What a lovely little spot! Where is it? So greeeeeeen.

A beautifully tranquil scene accompanied by a tranquil and beautiful Irish poem , I could not ask for more . All the Best

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'In the cessation of Creation lies the cessation of Existence. A species that does not create will die.'

Excellent! The image is a perfect companion to the poem... or vice versa.
I want to find myself in that yard...

i adore picturesqueness!! i'll live the city and take the mountains!

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~ we are a little of everything; each time a person or a moment is bringing a piece of us on the surface ~S

oops leave wanted to say

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~ we are a little of everything; each time a person or a moment is bringing a piece of us on the surface ~S

A beauty of a shot, very magical looking, nice textures and lush greens, good work on this.

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My Sissie-poo `bren
°jark The Beat Goes On °matteo
Be civil..no verbal abuse, no spam.

He waits, wondering at the simple beauty of the stonework; at how the hands of time have carressed it's univiting image into something so appealing to the eye, so tempting to the
tread of hesitant feet. His hand pauses on the patchwork moss
taking comfort from its' soft surface, feeling the warmth of recently passed sunlight, slowly fading in light shadows. The tree so alive in stolen radiance spreads itself to the summer afternoon sky in a greeting as old as time, reverent and enraptured, bathing in brilliance.
He smiles at every welcoming portent, at all the night shadow dancing firelit smiles, that brought him to this moment of lost time. This precursor of merging worlds, where he might find a love beyond lore or a tragedy for future legend.
He stops; eyes falling on the wrought iron gate, the smile fading from falling eyes, glancing of disbelieving parted lips before it dissappears into the cooling shadows. He glances in the direction of the modest dwelling just out of sight searching for her face, a hint of her fiery hair through dark lonely windows and finds nothing. Was this some mischance some unintended act born of ignorant innocence. No, she must have known.

To the Fair Folk iron is anathema.

Head hung low he walks towards the darkened tangle of forest
slowly fading back into the ethereal, lost to human eyes forever.

And she waits...

How do you find such beautiful places at just the right time.
(Fav.)

A Beautiful Place.

Wish I could sit there.

this reminds me of one of my favorite childhood movies..the secret garden.
I just the the lush greens and natural beauty of it all.
beautious!