Yellow Colour / Cor Amarelo
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"Cors Caron is a raised bog in Ceredigion, Wales. Cors is the Welsh word for "bog": the site is also known as Tregaron Bog, being near the small town of Tregaron. Cors Caron covers an area of approximately 349 hectares." Wikipedia
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It made me smile. Wild Bank Vole. Just for FUN!!!!!
Image taken yesterday.
Tornarem a donar les mans i el cor
a cada nou amic que ens ho demani,
sense escoltar la por d'un nou esqueixament
o d'un estar més sols cada vegada.
Núria Albó
A rare glimpse of some blue sky and Sun today. 4 shot panorama taken with my little Nikon1 handheld. Stitched using Microsoft ICE
"Cors Caron National Nature Reserve is a vast area of wetland filling the broad valley of the River Teifi near Tregaron.
The reserve includes three raised bogs - areas of deep peat that have built up over the last 12000 years.
The raised bogs are surrounded by a complex and unique mix of habitats - reedbeds, wet grasslands, woodland and rivers, streams and ponds.
The variety of habitats makes this reserve a fantastic place for wildlife and its ever-changing shades of red, brown and yellow provide a rich counterpoint to the green of the surrounding hills.
Despite first appearances, there has been human habitation here from the earliest times and the bog itself was, for centuries, at the heart of the area’s life and economy.
Peat was a vital fuel until the middle of the 20th century and you will find evidence of peat cutting everywhere."
National Resources Wales naturalresources.wales/days-out/places-to-visit/mid-wales...
Hoje me peguei pensando porque, em inglês, tristeza é azul, como na expressão "I'm feeling blue today". Acho que a tristeza, assim como a felicidade, tem uma cor diferente para cada um.
Nessa brincadeira de pensar nos sentimentos em cores e nesta segunda-feira cinza, em vários sentidos, foi um dia bom para brincar de lápis-de-cor.
Post novo no meu blog: Caixa de lápis de cor
"Cors Caron is a complex of raised bogs along the (upper) Teifi valley, comprising peat domes surrounded by a range of reedbeds, wet grassland, rivers, streams, ponds, woodlands and farmland.
"It may be the most intact surviving example of a raised bog landscape (macrotope) in the UK, covering an area of c.330 hectares."
The boardwalk in the picture is now barred from access - a vital shame, because it led to the essence of the river bank (of the Afon Teifi) which is now inaccessible to the public.
A medida que avanzamos
se estropea la medida.
Tú mira un poco hacia atrás
y comprueba cómo el tiempo
no tiene la misma medida.
Antes, ¡a ver quién corría!
y ahora, no sabemos detener
el reloj de nuestra vida.
¡Todo es correr y correr!
Hasta las cosas se hacían
para que siempre duraran.
Ahora no dura ya nada,
ni dura la poesía
de ver cómo el tiempo flota
haciendo del mismo una nota
que prolonga un calderón.
Todo es correr y corremos,
y qué pena es no parar
sabiendo que llegaremos
todos al mismo lugar.
Er Cor di San Lucano is an amazing place the locals care so much about Cor that they have always jealously guarded it as a family jewel. Until a few years ago, in fact, only the residents of the place knew the way up, handed down from father to son, many could boast of having asked their girlfriend right up there to marry me. The legend says that er cor was formed by a bolt from the blue at the passage of San Lucano.
Solo nei sogni gli uomini sono davvero liberi,
è da sempre così e così sarà per sempre.
John Keating “L’Attimo fuggente”
Only in dreams men are truly free,
it has always been so and will be so forever.
John Keating "Dead Poets Society"
Thanks for your visit :)
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Colors in the feet.
"Pé do meu samba
Chão do meu terreiro
Mão do meu carinho."
(Pé do meu samba - Caetano Veloso)
Només em queda mirar a dins, mirar al cor de les persones i de les coses, segurament hi podré trobar veritat, confort i companyonia.
No sé si m'arribarà bé el missatge, ja que el meu, de cor, està dolgut i se sent poc propens a confiar, a obrir-se.
No em queda cap més remei, però, que seguir confiant i cercant que haig de fer per desfer tot aquest malefici que m'aclapara i, a estones, sembla que no em deixi respirar.
Estic far de fer pena, però encara més tip i far estic de fer-me pena.
Com aquesta rosa, tinc el cor embolcallat i amagat. Per l'aroma que encara es pot flairar sé que encara queda un bocí de cor a dins de la rosa i també a dins meu, l'haig de recuperar.
M'estic perdent aquesta primavera, no la sé aprofitar.
La rosa ha perdut l'olor, la fragància i no puc ni sé com recuperar-la.