John Ruskin (1819 – 1900)
I must stop writing because I’ve to draw a peacock’s breast-feather, and paint as much of it as I can without having heaven to dip my brush in. And when you have seen what it is, you shall despise it—if you can—for heaven itself. But for nothing less!
Secret Gardener 
BEAUTIFUL BLOG….BEAUTIFUL IMAGES….SINCERELY ANDREA:))
I’m so sorry I missed this at the time. (I’m going back through comments in search of something)
—Thank You—-
And I just got lost a little, when I meant just to glance at yours –in the crows and the sunflowers, and the camera’s close observation;
the dailiness of the world—as lived by so many more lives than just the human ones which have taken over and deformed it for everyone.
yes this is very sad…BEAUTIFUL DAY….SINCERELY ANDREA:))