A little fresh air would be good for you just now. The weather is lovely; and a little stroll in the park will bring the colour back to your cheeks. ~J. Palgrave Simpson, Victorian playwright
Today, I’m joining Robin over at Breezes at Dawn for the annual jaunt known as Walktober. We each take a walk (ride a bike, swim, skate, whatever), post about it (with pictures, if possible), and Robin gathers links to each post so we all can travel together and enjoy other parts of our amazing world.
The spiders with their pot-bellied bodies and beady eyes, are not beauteous objects, but a spider-web in the sunshine with dew upon it, is one of the loveliest things in the world. ~Dorothy Scarborough, American writer
Sparkling drops of water
Play upon her handiwork.
Inconceivable, isn’t it, that
Dew can magnify beauty
Even for such a short while?
Rare is the person on earth
Who can appreciate the weaver
Every bit as much as the creation
By which she’s famously known.
Note: This is an Acrostic poem. You got the message, right?
It takes hands to build a house, but only hearts can build a home. ~Author unknown
All day long.
Dreaming of the past,
When I was loved. Needed.
When I kept a family safe
From storms, robbers, and other ills.
Love and laughter filled my rooms, and I
Felt secure in fulfilling my purpose.
Now my family’s gone, and I sit alone.
My lawn untended; my paint peeling,
Grass in cracks, weeds overflowing.
Who will fix me up again?
Will someone please buy me?
Will someone love me?
I can give much!
Don’t let me
Note: Monkey and I pass this ranch-style house on our morning walks, and it never fails to sadden me. I hear the elderly owner passed away several years ago, long after his wife had died and their kids went to live out of state. A daughter came to look over (and, I assume, take what she wanted) after his death, but she hasn’t been back since. There’s no For Sale sign outside. This poem is a Double Etheree.
How magnificent the flower becomes as its youth passes! Even the flowers have their setting sun. ~Auguste Rodin, French sculptor
Autumn is in the air … finally.
The sun’s rays aren’t quite as penetrating, daylight hours are shrinking, the night sky is alive with different constellations from those we saw in May and June.
Sadly, what was dangled before our eager eyes — a return to normalcy after the pandemic of 2020 — has just as quickly slipped away, thanks to new strains of the virus. Awful news from abroad, unrest here at home, and global weather emergencies only serve to dampen our spirits, threatening to strip us of hope.
But beauty never fails to cheer. So, before the season passes, I’m going to share with you some of the pretty plants in my yard. May they make you smile the way they do me!
God is closest to those with broken hearts. ~Jewish saying
Yesterday, I made my own pilgrimage of sorts.
Back to where I was 20 years ago, when I first heard the news of the terrorist attack on our nation.
There’s only one person who needs a glass of water oftener than a small child tucked in for the night, and that’s a writer sitting down to write. ~Mignon McLaughlin, American journalist and author
My writing muse has taken flight,
Her disappearance is a fright.
No work in stages,
No counting of pages.
I swear, this just doesn’t feel right.
The drought will pass, or so I’m told,
No need for me myself to scold.
The muse will come back;
I’ll give her no flack
When a manuscript I unfold!
Part of the secret of success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside. ~Author unknown
Mama’s been tied up with stuff — a flurry of work, various appointments, and a visit from the Domer — so I seized her laptop for a post of my own. Cool.
Here’s what I’m wondering: What is it with humans and food?
We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival. ~Winston Churchill, British statesman and former Prime Minister of the United Kingdom
We all complain sometimes about our circumstances.
Things don’t go according to plan. People don’t act the way we think they should. We build up our hopes for something, yet it doesn’t come through.
I wonder if plants ever feel that way.
In teaching you cannot see the fruit of a day’s work. It is invisible and remains so, maybe for twenty years. ~Jacques Barzun, French-American historian and writer
I just learned that one of my former teachers died last year … from COVID-19.