Saturday, November 08, 2008

From the Gypsy


There is something in the Autumn
that is native to my blood-
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple
and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples
can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by,
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters
like smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October
sets the gypsy blood astir,
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.

Bliss Carman

Sunday, May 11, 2008

My Sweet Baboo

On this Mother's Day I can' help but feel fortunate to be a part of "My Sweet Baboo's" life! I've been watching her for about six weeks now and even though it's a busy job, she has brought many smiles to my tired face. We try to go outside for a walk each day and that is helping me burn extra calories. (an added benefit!) Sometimes I wish I was stronger as she is getting heavier. As soon as she starts walking, I'll teach her to push me in the stroller!! With age comes wisdom. :)

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

In Memory Of . . .

When some beloved voice that was to you
Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly,
And silence against which you dare not cry,
Aches round you like a strong disease and new-
What hope? What help? What music will undo
That silence to your sense? Not friendship's sigh,
Nor reason's subtle count . . . .
Nay, none of these,
Speak, Thou, availing Christ! - and fill this pause.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "Substitution"

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Time For Fall (literally)

I can't believe the summer is gone and I didn't blog at all! I forgot about it. Thank goodness for my niece who gently (??) reminded me. I had a birthday since then, just a few weeks ago. I'm slowly getting over the shock that, yes, even I, am aging. It's a hard pill to swallow at first, but thankfully there's saliva!! What can I say? A famous quote comes to mind: "getting old is not for the squeamish". I was hoping for a easy decline, but instead "all dive" is ringing in my ears! Yikes and double yikes! The hardest part is seeing the looks people give you when they haven't seen you for a long time. First it's shock, then disbelief. Slowly a tender sympathy fills their eyes as they turn and walk away. Let em' look, let em' walk!! The best years of my life are ahead of me and I still have alot to offer! By golly, I'll show em'. This aging thing is going to be a piece of cake. (Make that two pieces of cake (chocolate), and throw in a bag of extra crunchy chips and a chocolate malt. If I'm goin' down, I'm goin' down with a well padded smile on my face!)

Till next time!

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Talents Differ

(This robin's nest is in our woodshed! The babies hatched a few days ago.)

"What are you doing there, Robin a Bobbin,
Under my window, out in the blue?"
"Building my nest, O Little One, Pretty One,
Doing the thing that you cannot do!"

"What are you doing now, Robin a Bobbin,
Under my window, out in the blue?"
"Brooding my eggs, O Little One, Pretty One,
Doing the thing that you cannot do!"

"What are you doing there, Robin a Bobbin,
Under my window, out in the blue?"
"Feeding my nestlings, Little One, Pretty One,
Doing the thing that you cannot do.

"And what are you doing, pray, Little One, Pretty One,
What are you doing, tell me now true?"
"Sewing my patchwork, Robin a Bobbin,
Doing the thing that you cannot do!"

Laura E. Richards

Thursday, March 09, 2006

A Walk Beside the Sea

One of my favorite pictures taken at St. George Island, Florida.

The Sea Gypsy

I am fevered with the sunset,
I am fretful with the bay,
For the wander-thirst is on me
And my soul is in Cathay.

There's a schooner in the offing,
With her topsails shot with fire,
And my heart has gone aboard her
For the islands of Desire.

I must forth again tomorrow!
With the sunset I must be
Hull down on the trail of rapture
In the wonder of the Sea.

Richard Hovey

A Flower

Walking through the forest,
I saw a flower -
Soft, pale yellow, delicate-
I picked it.

The trees wept with sadness.
The ferns bowed their heads.
The birds stopped their singing
and looked on with mournful silence.

D.Walsh 1970