For dappled things

March was a terrible tease here in D.C.

One weekend we got this beautiful weather:


Followed, not too long after, by this:


But since March ended, spring finally got its act together, and more and more the days and the flowers and the breezes are reminding me of this poem I like, and which I thought you would like, by Gerard Manley Hopkins:

Glory be to God for dappled things—
   For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
      For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
   Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
      And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
   Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
      With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
 Praise Him.







Photos from ye ol’ iPhone, of Congressional Cemetery, some places in the Capitol Hill area, Lincoln Park, and the National Arboretum.



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