In an Old Barn

In an Old Barn.

Tons upon tons the brown-green fragrant hay
O'erbrims the mows beyond the time-warped eaves,
Up to the rafters where the spider weaves,
Though few flies wander his secluded way.
Through a high chink one lonely golden ray,
Wherein the dust is dancing, slants unstirred.
In the dry hush some rustlings light are heard,
Of winter-hidden mice at furtive play.
Far down, the cattle in their shadowed stalls,
Nose-deep in clover fodder's meadowy scent,
Forget the snows that whelm their pasture streams,
The frost that bites the world beyond their walls.
Warm housed, they dream of summer, well content
In day-long contemplation of their dreams.

~ Charles G. D. Roberts 1860-1943

Spring Thoughts

"An altered look about the hills;
A Tyrian light the village fills;
A wider sunrise in the dawn;
A deeper twilight on the lawn;
A print of a vermilion foot;
A purple finger on the slope;
A flippant fly upon the pane;
A spider at his trade again;
An added strut in chanticleer;
A flower expected everywhere ..."

~ Emily Dickinson,

Winter Silence

"I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the

bone structure in the landscape - the loneliness of it - the dead feeling of winter.

Something waits beneath it - the whole story doesn't show."

~ Andrew Wyeth

Robin Redbreast

The fireside for the cricket,

The wheat-stack for the mouse,

When trembling night-winds whistle

And moan all round the house.

The frosty ways like iron,

The branches plumed with snow,-

Alas! in winter dead and dark,

Where can poor Robin go?

Robin, Robin Redbreast,

O Robin dear!

And a crumb of bread for Robin,

His little heart to cheer.

~William Allingham.

Dulce Domum. " Sweet Home"

"What a ripping little house this is! Everything so handy! "

~Mole's house: Wind in the Willows

Toad-ally Cute.

The First Sergeant has always loved a bargain.
Some people even go so far as to call him "cheap" but you didn't hear that from me.

When we were newlyweds, setting up our home, Sarge would spend his Saturday's roving around the local town-market, bargain hunting.
He surprised me with my first two sets of dinnerware bought from one of the market stalls, and the list of knick-knacks he bartered for, ranged from Royal Doulton figurines, to furry little Gunks.

Lately, he has developed the urge to bargain shop at the local secondhand and thrift shops.
On his way home from work yesterday afternoon, he stopped in the Goodwill store and found this cute little frog lamp albeit minus a shade.

I was trying to think of something I could use for the shade then it dawned on me....the old colander I had bought at an antique shop.
It fit perfectly !

I'm going to use it in the potting shed, the light shines through the holes, and creates a magical display, almost celestial.

I can't wait to see what treasure he brings home next week.

Sunshine And Shadows.

It's been awhile since shadows have appeared.
The ground has been covered in white, for most of it's February days.
Shadows 'don't do' white.



The wrought iron gate took on a whole new look, silhouetted against the wooden porch.



A strange circle of light appeared in the sky, and stayed there until nightfall.

Signs of warmer days , turns my thoughts to flowers.

Theme Thursday = Bell.

I'm joining the ringing of my bell in honor of a fellow blog friend Barry, An Explorer's View of Life: The Bell And You and everyone who is in the fight of their lives against cancer.

At 2:oo PM EST today (Thurs. 2-18-10) join us in the ringing of our bells, and saying a prayer for those fighting their own personal battle.
Ill be ringing mine as loud as it will clang....

If you would like to join or see who else is participating, pop on over : Theme Thursday
Or just ring your own bell !

2PM EST: Clang, bong, chime, dingdong, peel, ring; clink, jangle, jingle, tinkle, clap, clop, plonk !
Go Barry !!

In The Bleak Midwinter.

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,

In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

~Christina Rossetti 1872

Picture credit: This England/Delamere Forest/Cheshire.

Empty Nesters.

"Sweet bird! thy bow'r is ever green,

Thy sky is ever clear; thou hast no sorrow in thy song

No winter in thy year."

~ John Logan, 1748 - 1788

Winter Blast.

Just when we were having thoughts of Spring, another cold and icy blast blanketed the area overnight. We are once again under a Winter-weather advisory, with ice and snow making driving treacherous and inadvisable.

Within thirty minutes of filling the birdbath with warm water, ice has already begun to form.

Don't forget to give our feathered friends an extra scoop of birdseed !

Stay safe......

Home Alone.

Mum and the First Sergeant had to leave me guarding the house today.
Something about the need to earn money so they could buy more kibble .
Yum !

I showed them I was alert, and up to the job.
As they drove out of the driveway the house fell eerily silent.

I'll keep look-out from my favorite chair, scanning the horizons.

It's so warm and quiet in here ZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I dreamed of running through the fields, endlessly filled with plump, juicy mice.
Sshhh ! Don't tell "them" I took a cat-nap.

When mum and the First Sergeant returned home , it was dark outside. I wanted to tell them, all about keeping the mice away, but I overheard mum telling the First Sergeant, to give me a "heads up".......

Does anyone know what that means ?

Oh, well.....did you bring kibble ?

>^..^<

Antiques Roadshow UK.

If you have a passion for antiques or objects in general with a "history", and you subscribe to BBC America, a special treat is aired each afternoon.

Antiques Roadshow is a British television show in which antiques appraisers travel to various regions of the United Kingdom and appraise antiques brought in by local residents. It has been running since 1979.

A collaboration of WGBH's ANTIQUES ROADSHOW and the original BBC series now in its 24th season, Antiques Roadshow UK is packed with flea market finds, heirlooms, and junkyard gems—many with a royal pedigree. Antiques Roadshow UK boasts a lively team of savvy British appraisers and a delightful cross section of local citizenry.

It has traveled the length and breadth of the United Kingdom, from Lochgilphead in the Western Highlands to Selby in Yorkshire, from Caernarfon in Wales to Wisbech in Cambridgeshire, not to mention Birmingham and Blackpool.

Unlike it's US counterpart, the UK team of appraisers, air their program from historic sites scattered all across Britain.

There are special open-air shows from Forde Abbey, Knebworth House, Cliveden and Eastnor Castle, while another program comes from Glamis Castle Castle, childhood home of the Queen Mother.

The royal connection continues with a special Victorian ROADSHOW from the Victoria and Albert Museum to mark the centenary of the death of Queen Victoria.

Series host Michael Aspel (seated) with appraisers (from left) Eric Knowles, Paul Atterbury and Henry Sandon.

If you fancy a little getaway to the Sceptred Isle this is the perfect opportunity.

Winter Dreams.

" The cotage homes of England/By thousands on her plains."
~ Felicia Hermans

Where you'll find me, in my dreams.....

No Snow ?

The debut of their new techie weather- prediction equipment on the local news station last night, boasted "highly accurate" forecasting.
It failed to predict the new falling snow, we are once again experiencing here in middle Tennessee.
Pffffff. Poppycock.

What The Dickens ?

"I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year."

A Christmas Carol ~Charles Dickens, Ebeneezer Scrooge,

Several years ago, our small town, was graced by a visit from Gerald Charles Dickens, great-great grandson of the author 'A Christmas Carol '.

It was the highlight of the town's Victorian Christmas Festival, a seventy -five minute on stage performance and one-man show of a descendant of the beloved author Charles Dickens.

Gerald Dickens performed the dramatization with just a chair, a hat stand, a candle, his top hat, and a walking stick for props. The rest of the show was brought to life with his voice, facial expression, mannerisms, and energy.

Since the story is so well known, Dickens said he didn't have to worry too much about explaining the plot.

Everyone loved the story, and a closeness and camaraderie developed in the audience as we watched a talented storyteller enact his great-great grandfather's story with love and passion.

Fortunately for me, the audience struggled to understand the actor's Cockney accent. It created dead silence voids, where an appropriate applauding should have followed a punch line.

Mr. Dickens had been making note of this, and asked if I would accompany him on stage and help the audience participation, with a few prompting gestures.

{Gulp}

Would I accompany him on stage ?

Needless to say it was the best Christmas gift I could have received, and dare say, everyone in this town, is still talking about it to this very day.......

I know I am.

;)

"To Josephine

my Warrington friend".
~ Gerald Charles Dickens.

A Winter Idyl.

A Winter Idyl.

Winter offered a snowy cold day.

A time to make a pot of tea, and curl up with a new book.

A time to nest for one last moment.........

"Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers. "
~Charles W. Eliot

"You know you've read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend. "

~Paul Sweeney

The Old Front Porch.

I like Old.

Great Depression

worn-in (not worn-out)

favorite quilt

classic car.

I like the way Old feels.

Sheets washed a thousand times

frayed around the stitching

busting from stories.

I like the way Old sounds.

Creaky wooden floors

heaters that pop and snap

doors that slam like they really mean it!

I like the way Old looks.

chipped paint

worn corners

rust

not from neglect or carelessness, but from use.

I'd live in an Old house

with a big Old front porch.

One that heaves to tell me someone is home

and echos of little feet running across it.

I like Old.

~ Holly Glasgow

Dreaming Of Digging In The Dirt.

"Every gardener knows that under the cloak of winter lies a miracle ...
A seed waiting to sprout, a bulb opening to the light, a bud straining to unfurl.
And the anticipation nurtures our dream."

~ Barbara Winkler

Spot the Imposter.

Center Hill Dam and Lake.

Click to enlarge.

Center Hill Lake is a reservoir in middle Tennessee, located near Smithville, approximately eighteen miles southeast of our hometown.

Although we are considered landlocked, we are fortunate to have an abundance of over 60,000 stream miles and some 540,000 lake acres.

This picture was taken in 2004. After experiencing torrential rains and flooding, the decision was made to open the flood gates, an extremely rare event.

Created by means of a dam constructed by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in 1948, the lake had a dual purpose: electricity production and flood control.

Center Hill Dam is 260 ft (79 m) high, and it is composed of concrete and earth structures, with 8 gates that are 50 ft (15 m) wide each.

The lake, which is 64 miles (103 km) long, covers an area of 18,220 acres (74 km²).

Center Hill Lake has a storage capacity of 762,000 acre feet (940,000,000 m²) of water.

The lake has approximately 415 miles (668 km) of shoreline, with the deepest point at 190 feet (58 m).

The lake is well-known for water recreation and fishing.


Info credit: Wikipedia

Southern Girls.

THE DIFFERENCE IF YOU MARRY A SOUTHERN GIRL

The first man married a woman from OHIO . He told her that she was to do the dishes and house cleaning. It took a couple of days, but on the third day, he came home to see a clean house and dishes washed and put away.

The second man married a woman from MICHIGAN . He gave his wife orders that she was to do all the cleaning, dishes and the cooking. The first day he didn't see any results, but the next day he saw it was better. By the third day, he saw his house was clean, the dishes were done and there was a huge dinner on the table.

The third man married a girl from THE SOUTH. He ordered her to keep the house cleaned, dishes washed, lawn mowed, laundry washed, and hot meals on the table for every meal. He said the first day he didn't see anything, the second day he didn't see anything but by the third day, some of the swelling had gone down and he could see a little out of his left eye, and his arm was healed enough that he could fix himself a sandwich and load the dishwasher.

He still has some difficulty when he urinates.

Chuckle courtesy of a dear Southern lady.

An Old Wagon Wheel.

An Old Wagon Wheel
~E.D. Wilbur

Upon a fence, in a new coat of red,
Brought to use, no longer dead,
For many years it hung in a shed,
One of four, the year Gramp was wed.

It first was used, for a long, long drive,
For the honeymoon, in the year o’ five.
It took two days for them to arrive,
To that old hotel, so young and alive.

On a buggy it was, with a covered top,
Gram washed it out, with an old string mop.
It went for years, and it didn’t stop,
With an old grey mare, and a clippity clop.

The buggy was black, with wheels of white,
Dashboard of leather, and it carried a light,
After Sarah’s wedding, which lasted into the night,
The mare got them home, it must have been quite a sight.

It went for the doctor, when the kids were born ,
Covered with flags, a parade to adorn,
To fatten a goose, it went for the corn,
After all this, it was looking quite worn.

It sat so dejected, in the old churchyard,
Dear Gramp was gone, we all took it hard,
The family kept to themselves, the horse stood guard,
Tho Gram smiled through her tears, she appeared very tired.

The old grey horse, to a pasture green,
The shed for the buggy, a sad, sad scene,
In days gone by, it was sharp and clean,
But it rotted away, the wheels high on a beam.

Three wheels were broken, when the hurricane hit
That old wagon shed, and when it had quit
We put the last in the porch, where Gramp used to sit,
To remind us of him, and his rare dry wit.

Upon a fence, in a new coat of red,
Brought to use, no longer dead,
For those many years it hung in a shed,
Now the wheel is on show, on a fence, instead.