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 |  Look around. Let Nature nurture your Soul. I record images I sense and share them here. |
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NURTURE your NATURE  Nature can nurture our writing, can nurture our soul. What is the language of Nature? And how do we learn it? We look at the natural wonders around us and do not see them, hear, taste nor smell them. They do not touch us anymore than we dare touch them. And then we wonder why we feel so dead. To breathe in and live like a child again opens the Land of Wonderment. It's still there after all these years.   |
| 🏴 Loch Lomond 🏴 Song of my youth. Such a boring song... unless sung by Maxine Sullivan (1911-1987). I heard her sing this many years later as a white-haired senior singer. I was amazed by her version of a simple song sung by a great voice with immaculate style. I also grew up in an uber-White suburb (think German, German-Irish). Yes, we sang this song... without true emotion or any style (think J.S. Bach). Elvis may have learned from Negroes (that was the polite word at that time) but we sure didn't. Yes, we sang gospel songs. Yes, we were made aware that THOSE folks could sing and dance. No, there was little opportunity to actually have any experience that would have busted those stereotypes. I grew up in a segregated world... such a pity. I moved on from that later in life. This video clip is from a 1939 movie... and it shows. Lyrics (one version of the traditional song) By yon bonnie banks, And by yon bonnie braes, Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond, Where me and my true love Were ever want to gae, On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond. Oh! ye'll take the high road and I'll take the low road, And I'll be in Scotland afore ye; But me and my true love Will never meet again On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond. 'Twas then that we parted In yon shady glen, On the steep, steep side of Ben Lomond, Where in purple hue The Highland hills we view, And the moon coming out in the gloaming. Oh! ye'll take the high road and I'll take the low road, And I'll be in Scotland afore ye; But me and my true love Will never meet again On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond. The wee birdie sang And the wild flowers spring, And in sunshine the waters are sleeping, But the broken heart it kens Nae second Spring again, Tho' the waeful may cease frae their greeting. |
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