Wednesday, February 27, 2019

Mid-Week Indulgence

The sun is shining brightly, I've treated ourselves to a little mid-week treat.
Love the name of the bakery "Sticky fingers bakeries".
*Drool*
 
 

Sunday, February 24, 2019

February Days

The rain has finally stopped.
Our state has endured the most rainfall on record in the past 139 years for the month of February, rivers are out of their banks, livestock has been moved to higher ground.
The grass is growing at a crazy rate, the little toad house has been occupied more than once this rainy season, the frogs are happy....
 
🐸 
 

Friday, February 22, 2019

Oliver Love


 
 
 
 
" Sometimes he curls up on my pillow during the night and I don't know he's there until I yawn and my mouth closes on a whisker. "

~Astrid Alauda
 
 

Monday, February 18, 2019

Little Things That Make Me Smile

English red transferware
Timeless pieces throughout the years
 


Friday, February 15, 2019

A Bargain Of Beauty

A baker's-dozen........... pots of blooming Tulips. 
All had been marked down to a mere $1.25 a pot.
Each individual pot holds three huge bulbs, all waiting to be planted in the warm, fertile soil of Spring.


Saturday, February 9, 2019

Thoughts Of Home



The Manor Farm
 
 
The rock-like mud unfroze a little, and rills
Ran and sparkled down each side of the road
Under the catkins wagging in the hedge.
But earth would have her sleep out, spite of the sun;
Nor did I value that thin glilding beam
More than a pretty February thing
Till I came down to the old Manor Farm,
And church and yew-tree opposite, in age
Its equals and in size. The church and yew
And farmhouse slept in a Sunday silentness.
The air raised not a straw. The steep farm roof,
With tiles duskily glowing, entertained
The mid-day sun; and up and down the roof
White pigeons nestled. There was no sound but one.
Three cart-horses were looking over a gate
Drowsily through their forelocks, swishing their tails
Against a fly, a solitary fly.
The Winter's cheek flushed as if he had drained
Spring, Summer, and Autumn at a draught
And smiled quietly. But 'twas not Winter—
Rather a season of bliss unchangeable
Awakened from farm and church where it had lain
Safe under tile and thatch for ages since
This England, Old already, was called Merry.


Edward Thomas 1878