Oliver Love

 

What greater gift than the love of a cat?

~Charles Dickens
 

Mary Mary Quite Contrary

Our precious little great-granddaughter will be here in just five short weeks, we are beyond excited.

I have always loved traditional nursery rhymes, and remember learning them in nursery school at the tender age of four..

I believe they have led to my lifelong love and appreciation of poetry and prose.

I'm hoping little Ensley Kate, will share that same fondness.

 

Holding On

Despite a lovely wet spring, our summer months have been dry.
Rainfall has been scarce and the trees are showing early signs of Autumn.
Tennessee has some of the most spectacular Autumn palettes, I can't help but imagine this year the leaves will have already fallen off the branches, once the cooler weather arrives.
*Sigh*

 

 

 

Rain-Dancing

We haven't had a significant rainfall in over a month now.
The trees are showing stress.
Our water bill has tripled, but we figure it's cheaper than having to replace shrubs and trees.
Hopefully, this week we will be treated to a downpour, fingers crossed !
                                                      

Gifts From The Sky

 

There is something quite magical about finding a feather lying on the ground.
Discarded and no longer needed, yet still beautiful in it's perfection.

Folklore has it, finding feathers in your path, means you have angels in your life.

I treasure my gifts from the sky.

 

 

Cats Sleep Anywhere

 

 

 

Cats sleep, anywhere,
Any table, any chair
Top of piano, window-ledge,
In the middle, on the edge,
Open drawer, empty shoe,
Anybody's lap will do,
Fitted in a cardboard box,
In the cupboard, with your frocks-
Anywhere! They don't care!
                         Cats sleep anywhere.                         

~ Eleanor Farjeon (1881)

 

A Little Break

 

Taking a little bloggy break, chores are piling up :)

When I can gather the wind in my sails, I'll return.

Stay well dear friends !

x

 

Unfolding

“How does the meadow-flower its bloom unfold?
 Because the lovely little flower is free
 Down to its root, and in that freedom bold.”

 

~ William Wordsworth 

 

  

  

 

 

 

Coneflower: Wild Swan

 

Hotter Than A Pepper Sprout

The heat and humidity is relentless today, even the birds are staying inside their nests.

The head gardener has been house-washing for the past three days, quite the job I can tell you.

My job consists of window cleaning, and keeping a watchful eye out on the worker, as he negotiates the steep roof.

I believe this is more stressful, than doing the actual work !

Well...…not quite.

 😺

 

 

 

 

 

Sweet Wild Rose

 

 

 

  My Wild Rose.

I had a garden, which I kept
With busy hands and tender care;
And once, while carelessly I slept,
Fanned softly by the drowsy air,
A wild rose to my garden crept,
And blossomed there.

O, sweet surprise. It seemed to me,
Some fair hand, my heart to bless,
Had brought it there, from wood or lee.
It came unsought 'twas loved no less;
I stooped and touched it tenderly,
With soft caress.

I grew to love it passing well;
While strange exotics, rich and rare,
With heart of gold and crimson bell,
Paid grudgingly for constant care,
My wild rose, as in a woodland dell,
Bloomed fresh and fair.

I watered not, I did not prune,
I tied it not with cord or thong;
Yet, morn by morn and noon by noon,
Through days of summer, hot and long,
And underneath the midnight moon,
From branches strong.

Hung clustered blossoms sweet and red;
And day by day and week by week,
I trod the path which toward it lead.
Whate'er my mood. I did not speak,
But close against bowed my head
And pressed my cheek.

I think of it with sudden thrill.
Now wide lands lie, deep water flows,
Smiles many a vale, looms many a hill
Between me and the garden-close;
Yet fondly I remember still
My sweet wild rose.

~ Ellen P. Allerton. Walls of Corn and Other Poems 1894