I want to share a little treat I discovered thanks to google alerts. A lovely young lady with a gorgeous voice, an adorable ukulele and a name that fits perfectly ( tina verbena). You all have to stop what ever you are doing and have a listen to this. Tina and the picture perfect ferns I observed unfurling themselves in the forest this week are my way of celebrating hitting one million views. I thought typepad would have had a little snail brass wind orchestra playing a marching tune but perhaps that will happen when little old RF hits a billion.
Time to harvest some fiddleheads and enjoy them with dinner.
The most wasted of all days is one without laughter. ~e.e. cummings
Just popping in to hopefully make you smile and let you know that I have been talking to my magnolia tree for the last month, asking it to please be in full bloom on May 1 st and it has been listening. Just like these stones with their soft furry magnolia bracts.
"What can turn us from this deserted future, back into the sphere of our being, the great dance that joins us to our home, to each other and to other creatures, to the dead and unborn? I think it is love. I am perforce aware how baldly and embarrassingly that word now lies on the page—for we have learned at once to overuse it, abuse it, and hold it in suspicion. But I do not mean any kind of abstract love (adolescent, romantic, or "religious"), which is probably a contradiction in terms, but particular love for particular things, places, creatures, and people, requiring stands, acts, showing its successes and failures in practical or tangible effects. And it implies a responsibility just as particular, not grim or merely dutiful, but rising out of generosity. I think that this sort of love defines the effective range of human intelligence, the range within its works can be dependably beneficent. Only the action that is moved by love for the good at hand has the hope of being responsible and generous. Desire for the future produces words that cannot be stood by. But love makes language exact, because one loves only what one knows." — Wendell Berry
Happy Earth Day!!!!!
Please get to know and love your own little patch of earth you call home.
I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers. ~Claude Monet
I believe I owe having become a crocheter to the stones. If it were not for them I think I would likely be spending more time knitting, sewing, embroidering, reading. It isn't that I don't do these things, I do but I would do more of them if it were not for those smooth, hard, heavy, pieces of the earth's crust imploring me.