Nature Sculpting the Landscape

 

    If you live in Tenerife or any of the principal Canary Islands, it's impossible to not realize that the landscape has been resculpted by volcanic explosions in years gone by.  

    The last one in Tenerife was November 18 1909. The following extract from a poem by William Cowper, although written about Mount Etna, Italy, is very appropriate and could have been written about Mount Teide.

 Slept unperceived, the mountain yet entire;

When, conscious of no danger from below, 

She towered a  cloud capped pyramid of snow,

No thunders shook with deep intestine sound

The blooming groves that girdled her around.

Her unctuous olives and her purple vines

Unfelt the fury of those bursting mines

The peasant’s hopes, and not in vain, assured,

In peace upon her sloping sides matured.

When on a day, like that of the last doom,

A conflagration laboring in her womb,

She teemed and heaved with an infernal birth,

That took the circling seas and solid earth.

Dark and voluminous the vapor rise,

And hang their horrors in the neighboring skies,

While through the Stygian veil, that blots the day,

In dazzling streaks the vivid lightning's play.

 But oh! what muse, and in what powers of song,

Can trace the torrent as it burns along?

Havoc and devastation in the van,

It marches over the prostrate works of man;

Vines, olives, herbage, forests disappear.

 

Heroism by William Cowper (1731-1800)

Come To My Sun–land!

 

 

    Do the first, second, and third words or lines of poems and books capture your imagination when you first read them? 

    Yes, it is a rhetorical question, I know. For many of us, that's why we keep reading an author’s work. It reminds us of something we've already experienced or want to add to our bucket lists.

    Today, I've included an excerpt from a poem written by Joaquin Miller, which reminds me of the  sights I've seen on my trips around Tenerife.

    I've also included a collage of some of the pictures I've taken along the way. Hoping that if you haven’t already visited the island, you will definitely want to add it to your travel bucket list.

Come to my sun-land! Come with me,

To the land I love; Where the sun and sea

Are wed forever; where the palm and the pine

Are filled with singers; where tree and vine

Are voiced with prophets! O come, and you

Shall sing a song with the seas that swirl

And kiss their hands to that cold white girl,

To the maiden moon in her mantle of blue.

The Arizonian by Joaquin Miller

The Bells Are Ringing

 

     All over Puerto De La Cruz, the name of Tomas De Iriarte is celebrated, with a street, a school and a library bearing his name. Born in the city in 1750 the poet was educated in Madrid under the supervision of his uncle Juan De Iriarte, who was librarian for the King of Spain.

    Every time I visit the city, I can't help but take photos of the cathedral and churches of the city and surrounding areas. Since it's the time of year when church bells ring out regularly, I've included a fable by the poet and some of my photos.

   

The Cathedral Bell and The Little Bell

In a certain cathedral a huge bell there hung,

But only on solemn occasions was rung;

It's echoes majestic, by strokes three or four,

Now and then, in grave cadence, were heard never more,

For the stately reserve and its wonderful weight,

Throughout the whole parish, its glory was great.

In the district the city held under its sway,

Of a few wretched rustics, a hamlet there lay;

And a poor little church, with a belfry so small,

That you hardly would call it a belfry at all,

There a little cracked cowbell, that in it was swinging,

For the poor little neighbor who did all the ringing.

Now that this little belfry might ape in renown,

The cathedral's huge tower, that loomed up up over the town;

That briefly and seldom on festivals noted,

The safe little bell should be rung it was voted,

By this cunning device, and their rustical eyes,

It's tinkle soon past for a bell of great size.

 

A fable by Tomas de Iriarte

Here Comes the Sun

 

    April 1963, three young men from Liverpool, UK packed their suitcases and headed for Puerto de la Cruz, Tenerife, the Canary Islands. They had been recording their first album in the EMI studios, in Abbey Road, London and now needed a break.

    These, lads were called Paul, George and Ringo. The fourth member of the pop group, John had decided to go it alone and holiday elsewhere in Spain. Whether, you were born in 1963 or not, I'm sure you will recognize the name of the band, The Beatles.

    If you read my blog, or follow me on Instagram you will know that I’m a regular visitor to this beautiful city and when I was back there in May I couldn’t help but think about them walking the same streets and taking in the same beauty as I was.

    I’ve included a few photographs of some of the same places that I know they visited. Although sixty years on, the place has probably changed a little! 

    It’s the first time I can say  that I’ve followed in the Beatles footsteps. If you want to see any more of my photographs, catch me on Instagram @christinarowellauthor.

  Hoping you’re having a great week guys and we’ll catch up soon.