The Sunday porch: tea party

Tea on porch, 1887, State Library of Queensland, Australia“Group of women having a tea party in Queensland, Australia,” ca. 1887, photographer unknown, via State Library of Queensland.

Beautiful Platycerium or staghorn ferns on the wall and columns. These could be Platycerium superbum, which are native to Australia. The one on the left seems to be supporting another plant — maybe a coleus.

How quiet it is, how silent,
like an afternoon in Pompeii.

Louise Glück, from “A Summer Garden

Life in gardens: at the window

Window View, Norway, by Paul Stang, ca. 1910Stongfjorden, Norway, ca. 1910, by Paul Stang, via Fylkesarkivet i (County Archives of) Sogn og Fjordane Commons on flickr.

I love the striped curtains — and those here.

Life in gardens: daisy field

Summer, Preus MuseumSommer,” between 1910 and 1933, by Inga Breder, via Preus Museum Commons on flickr.

Inga Breder, was born in Bodø, Norway, in 1855.  As an adult she lived in Oslo (then Kristiania) and became an amateur photographer, competing in and judging competitions.

The Sunday porch: relay station

Baltimore stoop, J. Vachon, Library of CongressThis photo was among  a set of 1938 photos of Baltimore, Maryland, by John Vachon, via Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division (all four pictures).

Dover, DE, Library of Congress“Resident of Dover, Delaware,” July 1938, by John Vachon.

Mail, Omaha, NE, Library of Congress“Morning mail, Omaha, Nebraska,” November 1938, by John Vachon.

Store porch conversation, Library of Congress“On the porch of a general store in Hinesville, Georgia,” April 1941, by Jack Delano.

And this.

Life in gardens: Paul et Henri

A repeat from December 2012. . . . I love this bleary little photo.

Paul et Henri

Paul and Henri at Cornusson, Parisot Commune, in the Pyrenees, France, ca. 1870 — like yesterday’s post  by Eugène Trutat, via the Bibliothèque de Toulouse Commons on flickr.

As from the house your mother sees
You playing round the garden trees,
So you may see, if you will look
Through the windows of this book,
Another child, far, far away,
And in another garden, play.
But do not think you can at all,
By knocking on the window, call
That child to hear you. He intent
Is all on his play-business bent.
He does not hear; he will not look,
Nor yet be lured out of this book.
For, long ago, the truth to say,
He has grown up and gone away,
And it is but a child of air
That lingers in the garden there.
Robert Louis Stevenson, “To Any Reader”