Carter's Water Garden


Saturday Schmaterday!

Saturday’s a mystery 

Any other day, less interesting 

Vacation day?

Holiday

Lazy day!

Later today… ?

Cold day!

Melancholy day.

Saturday Schmaterday…

Teetering on the edge of Spring. 

   ~ Mark C. 


Mark C.



Waterfall Wednesday | Let the LOVE Flow! | Carters Nursery, Pond & Patio | Jackson, TN

I just Love a flowing Stream and Waterfalls! And, its #waterfallwednesday! So heres a beauty to get you through the day…

“Forest, 
Nature, 
Love and Life, 
Natural, 
Vegetation, 
A stream of flowing water! 
The beauty of nature, 
The love of life, 
With the aroma of creation”

~ Edward Kofi Louis

Have a great #Waterfallwednesday

Mark Carter
Carter’s Nursery, Pond & Patio
2846 Old Medina Rd.
Jackson, Tn. 38305
Ph.# 731-424-2206
http://www.cartercountry.com



Monday’s and Waterfalls…

I’ve been up since early, but never found time for my BLOG today… I normally try to share a Waterfall on Mondays, so instead, how about one of my favorite poems about a special waterfall 😊

“Whenever I plunge my arm, like this,
In a basin of water, I never miss
The sweet sharp sense of a fugitive day
Fetched back from the thickening shroud of grey.
    Hence the only prime
    And real love-rhyme
    That I know by heart
    And that leaves no smart,
Is the purl of a little valley fall
About three spans wide and two spans tall
Over a table of solid rock
And into a scoop of the self-same block;
The purl of a runlet that never ceases
In stir of kingdoms, in wars, in peaces;
With a hollow, boiling voice it speaks
And has spoken since hills were turfless peaks.”

“And why gives this the only prime
Idea to you of a real love-rhyme?
And why does plunging your arm in a bowl
Full of spring water, bring throbs to your soul?”
“Well, under the fall, in a crease of the stone,
Though where precisely none ever has known,
Jammed darkly, nothing to show how prized,
And by now with its smoothness opalised,
    Is a drinking-glass:
    For, down that pass,
    My love and I
    Walked under a sky
Of blue with a leaf-wove awning of green,
In the burn of August, to paint the scene,
And we placed our basket of fruit and wine
By the runlet’s rim, where we sat to dine;
And when we had drunk from the glass together,
Arched by the oak-copse from the weather,
I held the vessel to rinse in the fall,
Where it slipped, and sank, and was past recall,
Though we stooped and plumbed the little abyss
With long bared arms. There the glass still is.
And, as said, if I thrust my arm below
Cold water in basin or bowl, a throe
From the past awakens a sense of that time,
And the glass we used, and the cascade’s rhyme.
The basin seems the pool, and its edge
The hard smooth face of the brook-side ledge,
And the leafy pattern of china-ware
The hanging plants that were bathing there.

“By night, by day, when it shines or lours,
There lies intact that chalice of ours,
And its presence adds to the rhyme of love
Persistently sung by the fall above.
No lip has touched it since his and mine
In turn therefrom sipped lovers’ wine.”

~ Thomas Hardy

See y’all tomorrow 😊

Mark C.