Denne ser ut til å bli en tradisjon: Ranhein - Tangenfjæra - august ved solnedgang. Ett år siden vi var der nå, "vi" altså foto-gruppen - været var sommerlig og fint, litt for fint, klaget Helena - himmelen var jo bare blå, uten skyer......
Når solen begynner å bli lav, skumringen drar inn over fjæra, blir det en nesten trolsk stemning med pålene fra den gamle utskipingshavnen til Ranheim Papirfabrikk som silhuetter mot vann og himmel.Det gikk mot fullmåne og fjærelandskapet lå der langt utstrakt. Her er noen av bildene jeg tok denne kvelden:
It's August and the roses begin to fade. But they have rejoiced me through the summer this year too - Though Ihavenot somanynow that Iused to have, actually200 differentvarietiesat most. And maybeI'mno longersogood atcaring forthem. Yet they are faithful to me and seem to tell me that they are still here, maybe not so exquisitely beautiful - but fallen beauties also have charm.
Naturdagbok fra 1906 - Edith Holden - s.79-80
Here are some pictures of this year's rose-blooming:
Fading roses, fading summer, autumn is coming, appropriate to be a little sentimental then - "The Rose" with Bette Midler will fit into this setting - (Amanda McBroom is the writer of the lyrics):
"The Rose" Some say love, it is a river That drowns the tender reed. Some say love, it is a razor That leaves your soul to bleed. Some say love, it is a hunger, An endless aching need. I say love, it is a flower, And you its only seed.
It's the heart afraid of breaking That never learns to dance. It's the dream afraid of waking That never takes the chance. It's the one who won't be taken, Who cannot seem to give, And the soul afraid of dyin' That never learns to live.
When the night has been too lonely And the road has been too long, And you think that love is only For the lucky and the strong, Just remember in the winter Far beneath the bitter snows Lies the seed that with the sun's love In the spring Becomes the rose.
