Indulge me yet another night prowling monochrome shot. It made me think of this poem by Wordsworth -- well, actually I thought of the first two lines of this poem by Wordsworth. (I love Google.)The sun has long been set,
The stars are out by twos and threes,
The little birds are piping yet
Among the bushes and trees;
There's a cuckoo,
and one or two thrushes,
And a far-off wind that rushes,
And a sound of water that gushes,
And the cuckoo's sovereign cry
Fills all the hollow of the sky.
24 comments:
Lovely poem by Wordsworth. Sweet little well lit cottage. How late is it? What are the owners of the house doing? Poker party? Someone is sick? Maybe it is not as late there as it is here. I have a case of insomnia and I am wondering if all the rest of the world is safe in their beds, rooms darkened and fast asleep.
No sounds, no thrushes, no water that rushes. And I am the cuckoo who cannot sleep.
Yesterday's Papers: Yes, Laurie, I do prefer the look of the silver Gold Line trains (there's an oxymoron for you) and they are becoming more plentiful. The white ones may even get phased out; I'm not sure if that's the plan. But the silver ones are much less comfortable to ride. One wonders whether the decision makers knew this when they decided to buy them. If you and your daughter want to see a lot of silver ones all together, take the Gold Line downtown. After Cypress Park station, you'll pass the old county jail on your right, and you'll cross the LA River. On the far bank of the river is the Gold Line maintenance yard, and you'll see lots of silver trains lined up.
If you keep on going into Union Station, as you make the last turn down toward the station, below on the right you will see a little area with several old railroad cars from the 40s, 50s, and 60s. This area is known as "The Garden" and it's where privately-owned railcars, known among railroaders as "private varnish," are stored. These cars are used for private rail excursions and parties. They hook them on to the backs of Amtrak trains and go. They are fun to look at. Lots of people probably don't even notice them there.
Don't know that poem but it's lovely. I can hear the dishes clanking in the old sink and the children whispering because they don't want their parents to know that they are still awake, imagining a Christmas filled with snow and presents. I love the line of the big black tree trunk as a natural frame. Terrific that I can read the house number painted on the curb - just as plain as day. :~)
Night photography is certainly your trump card. AWESOME.
love the Wordsworth quote. But Laurie, this looks spooky to me! Maybe it's the monochrome...maybe you are a stalker! :)I always looks forward to your shots.
If this shot had not been taken from behind the looming tree, it might look sweet. But the vantage point of your angle, incorporating the dark column of the trunk, imbues it with a sinister vibe, as if someone is watching. Boo Radley, maybe?
Your shots always seem like the opening paragraph in a novel!
Laurie, this is one of your best night prowler images. So ordinary on first glance yet so film noir too. Love it! And the Wordsworth is icing on the cake.
Still, Boo Radley was a guardian angel after all. Laurie, which were the two lines of the poem you did remember?
Scratch my question, I see. Funny, the only two I remembered were the last.
i like this photo!!!!!
I'm with KM, looks spooky, I like it though!
you knocked this one out of the ball park, lady. (glad you didn't break their window.)
and the Wordsworth, sublime. he lived up to his name.
This looks cheerful to me! They've done a great job of claiming that front porch space with the stylish windows, glowing brightly into the night. The street light overhead illuminates the leaves on the fine old heritage tree nearby, showing that all is well.
hi there! i just randomly found your blog when i was googling kaldi coffee house-
i live in south pas too and LOVE IT. so excited to check out more of your blog!
Prowl all you want. It's your blog. Little sweet houses with big yards.
Wordsworth suits perfectly. This is strangely haunting. You really do have he essence of a peeping tom in this shot.
It did look a bit spooky to me at first. My thought was that of a potential ecard - the kind you click on various places and things happen.
The poem does bring it to life, though, as if I had clicked to see the stars twinkle. Cllicked to see the birds piping. Clicked to see the cuckoo and thrushes and the wind that rushes.
I like the imaginary sounds Wordswoth has created in my thoughts. And the picture has come to life.
In the velvet darkness,
Of the blackest night,
Burning bright,
There's a guiding star.
No matter what or who you are.
There's a light
Over at the Frankenstein place.
There's a light
Burning in the fireplace.
There's a light, light
In the darkness of everybody's life.
NOW, Mister Earl has my kind of number!
Looks cozy to me. I too love your night shots. Do you ever sleep? Do you pack heat when you go out alone at night like that????
V
LA, on my way back from seeing a client 2morrow, I'll try to stop by Skylight(chatterons) and snap a couple of pics 4 U. Inside as well, if i get permission.
I'll give them 2 u 2 do whatever.
The original Chattertons was in Pasadena at oakland/colorado.
Terrific post. Wonderful poem. Lovely old, small houses (this & the craftsman one). I work by Cal Heights neighborhood & try to drive thru weekly. I posted them last Sept on: http://mostlylacounty.blogspot.com/2008/09/california-heights-homes.html
So sweet, and the poem too! But this picture actually reminded me, rather oppositely, of Night of the Hunter. Do you know that film? Amazing...
Greetings everyone!
Welcome J Luque and Crystal! Thank you for your kind words.
Dixie Mom, what were you doing up in the wee small hours? I'm the one who never sleeps in this family!
Mister Earl, you and San Diego Farmgirl have got me excited about exploring these retro trains. Thanks for the heads up.
Jude, thanks for the props, but I still bow before you, the digital photography master.
Ken, Tanya, Babooshka and Yak, I think it looks a little spooky and peeping-tom-ish, too. The reason I shot this house is becuase the light in that room was actually so red. We're talking RED. Like red, red, red, red, red glowing red. It looked so warm and wonderful -- but the finished photo looked like I photoshopped it to be weirdly red. It was so high contrast it really worked in mono. But heck, the stalker framing of the shot is all mine. What does that say about me? :-)
Snapper, thanks so much!
Altadenahiker, hey, between us we might could stumble through the whole poem by heart!
Knox, thank you!
Elaine, I love your take on things. Initially, I thought it looked warm and cheerful -- with that red window. Until I saw it on the computer and it started feeling like a shot by Gregg Toland. (Happy accident. I love Toland's cinematography!)
PA, I prefer sweet little houses and big yards to mansions on tiny lots that look like they might sink the land they're one. I guess it's all about negative space.
Shanna -- int4eractive daily photo blogging! Now that's the future of the medium! Except that none of us would ever leave the computer to do anything else...
Virginia, ha! This dyed in the wool liberal packing heat? (Well, I am from Texas...) Actually, this was shot around 8:00PM. The nice thing about winter is all the darkness. I know, I'm weird to think that. What did our fellow Southern gal Blanche Dubois say? "I like the dark, the dark is comforting to me!" But to answer your question, no, I rarely sleep!
Cafe, thanks!
And Tash, I'm off to check out your link.
Thanks for the Rocky Horror interlude Mister Earl! And thanks to all of you for keeping me so happily addicted to this blog. Til tomorrow...
Ms. Baroque, I didn't see you before! Welcome! (Everyone, check out Ms B's fabulous poetry blog. I discovered it today and it's well worth a look for lovers of verse.
Night of the Hunter! Great film, and I agree, there is a similar mood. I think I have an alter ego who thinks she's a film noir director...
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