ToxicWaste ... Tyson Boogie ... Les Crevettes

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Sunday, November 21, 2010

52 colours - #3 - Goldenrod

so it's time for the 3rd colour of those 52 that Luna Jubilee so lovely presents to us every Saturday ...
Goldenrod was the choice of the week ... and it's the first tough one for me already ...
especially as I had to look up this funny word first.
Me pea brain thought we were supposed to do something golden and I already had lots of ideas for it ...
but nooooo ... Goldenrod is a kind of yellow ... named after this nice plant:

And those who have seen me at the bumblebee event in Sanct lately know that yellow is hörrör for me ... *grins* ...
I don't have any yellow stuff in RL and in SL it's not better ... I simply tint my white things yellow when needed ...
But I don't do that for a challenge .... lol

So I spend my busrides and lunchbreaks and more to think of an outfit and an idea for the pic ...
I fought with damn alpha problems and pixelated letters, with layers and glow ... I spent ages to find the right location again and I googled for Goldenrod poems ... lol
And guess what ... not only that I had a lot of fun doing so ...
I discovered yellow for me, which means I'll prolly hop around in that shirt a lot ;-) ...
I discovered a nice place (I really get into rezzing at strange places and exploring)
I discovered some nice poetry ...
Goldenrod ... the discovery of a colour ... lol
anyway ... here it is ... pics

location link
Y.A.Y. Nature & Garden Supplies, CASSARAH (128, 130, 22)

and Goldenrod poems ...


On roadsides,
in fall fields,
in rumpy branches,
saffron and orange and pale gold,

in little towers,
soft as mash,
sneeze-bringers and seed-bearers,
full of bees and yellow beads and perfect flowerets

and orange butterflies.
I don't suppose
much notice comes of it, except for honey,
and how it heartens the heart with its

blank blaze.
I don't suppose anything loves it except, perhaps,
the rocky voids
filled by its dumb dazzle.

For myself,
I was just passing by, when the wind flared
and the blossoms rustled,
and the glittering pandemonium

leaned on me.
I was just minding my own business
when I found myself on their straw hillsides,
citron and butter-colored,

and was happy, and why not?
Are not the difficult labors of our lives
full of dark hours?
And what has consciousness come to anyway, so far,

that is better than these light-filled bodies?
All day
on their airy backbones
they toss in the wind,

they bend as though it was natural and godly to bend,
they rise in a stiff sweetness,
in the pure peace of giving
one's gold away.

by Mary Oliver

and the next tough colour already knocked at the door ... Plum ... ;-)

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