After another afternoon and night of snow

I went out this morning to fill the feeders,

the difference from previous mornings was not

so much the robin in the tree but the absolute

riot of exuberant birdsong that heralds spring

and the return of light.

" For winter's rains and ruins are over,

And all the season of snows and sins

The days dividing lover and lover,

The light that loses, the night that wins;"

                     Atalanta in Calydon

                                                  Algernon Charles Swinburne

  

 

As it snowed again Thursday and you were about to

be treated to more pictures of the frozen trees

it the yard, and birds or more likely squirrels at the feeders

as they are cleaning me out, when I received my Easter

present. Just as well, the snow is melting fairly quickly.

But we will doubtless have more snow so your not off

the hook yet.

But my Easter present generated a new subject. It was a copy

of Charles R. Knight The Artist Who Saw Through Time

by Richard Milner, Abrams, New York 2012

ISBN 978-9-8109-8479-0. ( Thanks sweetie )

"Charles Robert Knight

(October 21, 1874 in Brooklyn – April 15, 1953 in Manhattan)

was an American artist best known for his influential paintings of

dinosaurs and other prehistoric animals. His works have been

reproduced in many books and are currently on

display at several major museums in the United States."

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

I mentioned in an earlier post Sunday, November 13, 2011

how much I loved dinosaurs as a child,and this interest in dinosaurs,

early mammals, and early man has never really disappeared. Knight and

Zdenek Burian (I posted several photos from his work on my poetry

site for a poem called Lost Things,Friday, January 21, 2011) created

the images that fed the  wonderful world of my childhood imagination

( too late I realize I have to thank my parents for supporting this interest )

and played an important part in my first career in Archaeology

( great memories but no money there ).

by J . Augusta illustrated by (the great) Zdenek Burian

So this was a great present. I have quickly scanned the book

and found a wealth of information on Knight's career and the

many struggles he had to present his version of the past through

his murals and sculptures. The new information that

we have received on dinosaurs in the past few years, especially

the many finds in China mean the images shown in my books

and my beloved collection of Papo dinosaurs could well be wrong

and that Tyrannous may look more like a Secretary bird than

a Monitor lizard. But truth be told it is the images of Knight and Burian

that still roam the Jurassic plains of my imagination or peek out

of the stories of Ray Bradbury, the films of Ray Harryhausen

roaring defiance down  through the years.

Figures from the Bronx Zoo

Papo Dinosaurs

 "Out of the debris of dying stars,
   this rain of particles
   that waters the waste with brightness...

   The sea-wave of atoms hurrying home,
   collapse of the giant,
   unstable guest who cannot stay..."

                                                        Little Cosmic Dust Storm

                                                     John Hanies

Our house decorating stalled by colds, which have

also left us house bound I was reduced to watching  nature

out my window. As is often the case a White-Tailed Jackrabbit

rested under the spruce. It decided to give us a hand with

the spring cleanup. The pictures taken thru our window seem a

bit fuzzy I still need to get my camera looked at.

“Every spirit builds itself a house; and beyond its house, a world;

and beyond its world a heaven. Know then, that the world exists

for you: build, therefore, your own world.” 

 

                                                                    Nature 

                                                                         Emerson
 

"For all men live by truth and stand in need of expression"

                                  The Poet

                                           Emerson

"The Universe is the externalization of the soul"

                               The Poet

                                        Emerson

"But man postpones or remembers; he does not live

in the present, but with reverted eye laments the past,

or, heedless of the riches that surround him,

stands on tiptoe to foresee the future. He cannot be

happy and strong until he too lives with nature in

the present, above time."

                             Self-Reliance

                                      Emerson