Thursday, June 05, 2014

In Summer....

Oh summer, how I love you.
Idaho summer mornings can't be beat.
Dewy mornings,
cool breezes,
dappled sunlight through leafy trees,
fresh blue skies
(no pollution in my fair town),
birds singing...
Let's just celebrate summer today!

It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside. ~Maud Hart Lovelace, Betsy-Tacy and Tib, 1941

Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. ~Henry James


Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the blue sky, is by no means waste of time. ~John Lubbock, "Recreation,"The Use of Life, 1894


In summer, the song sings itself. ~William Carlos Williams

Then followed that beautiful season... Summer....
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape
Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

If it could only be like this always — always summer, always alone, the fruit always ripe... ~Evelyn Waugh

The best part about summer: cool, crisp, 6 am 6 milers through the north end! I love starting my day admiring the beautiful gardens that transform nearly every week ... first it was the tulips, then irises, poppies, peonies, and now a colorful explosion of roses at every corner! 
             ~Athena Barkdull (who just happens to be my son's incredibly awesome significant other..)


I think I need some more blue chairs,
cuz you can never have enough
(said the lady who owns many blue chairs....)
And then I want to create a field of flowers like in the
picture above,
and sit in them.
; )

Sing it Chad and Jeremy!!!!

Happy June days to you,
my little 
bon bons.
May you have a day where you can just sit and
enjoy the bounties of this earth!

Love to you all!!!

Must check out this little song from the movie
Made me giggle and feel happy.


Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Really Cute Kiddos

Can you imagine being able to paint these glorious pictures?
I can't even imagine how joyous it must be to have
such talent!
I am grateful for these people who
took the time to hone their talents.
Love them!!!

And these photos....

Have had the grand-kiddos again this week.
What joy to see their sweet little faces every morning.
"Good morning, Nana!"
they cheer.

Found this cute song on u-tube.
Never heard this one before.
A welcome addition to the 'garden' songs
sung by Primary kids!


Love to you all
my sweetie-kins!

Have a beautiful day!
I'm off to cuddle Mr. Cuddle-bug,
Miss Cuddle-pumpkin, and
Miss Cuddle-peanut!


Saturday, May 17, 2014


I'm a red geranium  lover.
Something about them makes my
heart sing
ever since I was a teeny-bopper.
; )


Life did not bring me silken gowns,
Nor jewels for my hair,
Nor signs of gabled foreign towns
In distant countries fair,
Clear DotBut I can glimpse, beyond my pane, a green and friendly hill,
Clear DotAnd red geraniums aflame upon my window sill.

The brambled cares of everyday,
The tiny humdrum things,
May bind my feet when they would stray,
But still my heart has wings
Clear DotWhile red geraniums are bloomed against my window glass,
Clear DotAnd low above my green-sweet hill the gypsy wind-clouds pass.

And if my dreamings ne'er come true,
The brightest and the best,
But leave me lone my journey through,
I'll set my heart at rest,
Clear DotAnd thank God for home-sweet things, a green and friendly hill,
Clear DotAnd red geraniums aflame upon my window sill.

Clear Dotby Martha Haskell Clark


The one below especially makes my heart sing....

I chose this poem in my junior English class
to analyze and present for my final project.
My sister Kathleen
(a university  English professor at the time)
taught me to see the symbolism in her
My first moment of love
for the red geranium.

From The Harp-Weaver
by Edna St. Vincent Milllay


So she came back into his house again
And watched beside his bed until he died,
Loving him not at all. The winter rain
Splashed in the painted butter-tub outside,
Where once her red geraniums had stood,
Where still their rotted stalks were to be seen;
The thin log snapped; and she went out for wood,
Bareheaded, running the few steps between
The house and shed; there, from the sodden eaves
Blown back and forth on ragged ends of twine,
Saw the dejected creeping-jinny vine,
(And one, big-aproned, blithe, with stiff blue sleeves
Rolled to the shoulder that warm day in spring,
Who planted seeds, musing ahead to their far blossoming).

I hope your weekend is filled with sunshine on you shoulders,
dirt under your fingernails
and lots of flowers.

Love to you all,
my little cutie-kins.

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