To a child’s eye a lightning-bug outshines the brightest fixed star. ~O. P. Fitzgerald,Methodist clergyman, journalist, and educator
I Monkey here.
Every summer night, when Mama takes me outside for my Final Pee-Call, she stands around staring into the back yard.
What’s she looking for?
Sticks and stones are hard on bones.
Aimed with angry art,
Words can sting like anything,
But silence breaks the heart.
~Phyllis McGinley, Pulitzer Prize-winning American author of children’s books and poetry
You
Fooled me.
Or maybe
I fooled myself.
Earnestly craving
A peaceful atmosphere,
I acquiesced to many
Of your suggestions, traded dreams,
And hoped we’d never experience
Long, lonely years of silence between us.
***
But something happened — what, I’m just not sure —
And here we are, stuck in this cold war.
No talking. No contact. Nothing,
When I’d hoped for so much more.
It hurts to realize
You’ve hardened your heart
And just don’t care
Anymore.
Okay,
Fine.
Note: Poetry form is Double Etheree. “Et tu, Brute” were Caesar’s dying words in Shakespear’s play Julius Caesar to his friend Brutus, who sided with a clique to assassinate the ruler.
A friend dies or leaves us: we feel as if a limb was cut off. ~Thomas Jefferson, third President of the United States
My “tiny” break lasted longer than I’d anticipated … longer, in fact, than any other break I’ve taken since starting this blog a dozen or so years ago.
Thank you for your patience.
Good things, when short, are twice as good. ~Baltasar Gracián, Spanish Jesuit and Baroque prose writer and philosopher
My Tiny Tree now measures 7 1/2 feet!! It looks healthy and seems to want for nothing. How it manages to look so cool and collected in this blazing heat and humidity baffles me.
It’s time for a wee blogging break. I’ve turned off comments for this post and will be back soon. Have a safe, joyous Fourth of July!
A sow prefers bran to roses. ~French proverb
Beautiful to see
Multi-hued, sun-loving blooms
Toxic to dogs though
Hasn’t modern civilized life come to be little else than a fight for life against bugs? ~Dorothy Scarborough, American writer from the Southwest
My late dad loved insects and often pondered why he hadn’t chosen entomology as his profession.
How, then, did he end up with two daughters who aren’t fans of bugs, especially flies, mosquitoes, wasps, roaches, and most beetles?
All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves: we must die to one life before we can enter into another! ~Anatole France, French poet, journalist, and novelist
From the time I was a child, my dad used to remind me, The only things certain are death and taxes.
To that list, I’d add change.
Each prejudice we harbor occupies space where God would anchor more of His love. ~William Arthur Ward, American motivational writer
Symbol of times past
Evokes hurt feelings today
Unacceptable
Note: What do you think about these statues? Are they blatantly offensive, or are they merely a lawn decoration like gnomes? For further information, here’s an NBC News report.
Flowers give their lives to us… Near them, gold and silver seem of no value. ~Auguste Rodin, French sculptor
I Monkey here.
Bet you’ve been missing me, huh?
I told Mama it’s been FAR too long since I’ve taken over her blog, but she just shrugged her shoulders.
What’s up with that? I ask.
There once was a bug with red eyes.
Below ground it grows and lies.
It sheds its shell
On a tree it does dwell.
After mating, the cycle will reprise.
Note: Poetry form is Limerick.
Musings by an ND Domer's Mom 