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?
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.
This is the sensory season. Trees are in leaf… It is a green world… Walk through an orchard and you can smell as well as feel the strength of grass underfoot, new grass reaching tall toward the sun. Boughs naked only a little while ago, then bright and heady with bloom, now rustle with leaf and tingle with the strength of fruition. Listen, and you can almost hear the pulse of sap and the mysterious workings of chlorophyll. The air vibrates with bird song… All the senses tingle, alive with the season as the world itself is alive. Nothing is impossible at such a time. ~Hal Borland, American writer, journalist, and naturalist
The world will always be beautiful to those who look for beauty. ~Margaret Renkl, American writer
This week has been gray, rainy, and dreary, but before it hunkered in, Monk and I took several long, lovely walks to enjoy the Spring.
A rose can say I love you,
Orchids can enthrall.
But a weed bouquet in a chubby fist—
Oh my, that says it all!
~Author unknown
If dandelions
show up, isn’t it likely
Spring will show up, too?
Note: Poetry form is Haiku. Happy Easter to one and all!
Oh, look, here’s a big bee just tumbled out of an apple blossom. Just think what a lovely place to live — in an apple blossom! Fancy going to sleep in it when the wind was rocking it. If I wasn’t a human girl I think I’d like to be a bee and live among the flowers. ~L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables, 1908
When it snows, you have two choices: shovel or make snow angels. ~Author unknown
Winter is a time of promise because there is so little to do — or because you can now and then permit yourself the luxury of thinking so. ~Stanley Crawford, American writer and farmer
‘Tis the season for us to hibernate,
Hole up indoors and try to acclimate
While the snows outside start to accumulate
And the frigid temperatures rush to accelerate.
The wise prepare for this transition to incubate:
They gather food when the weather is adequate,
Gas for the car and wood for the grate;
Books, movies, puzzles while they isolate.
This season of quiet gives us time to cogitate
The meaning of Life and how we might mitigate
The miseries others face and extrapolate
Things we can do to make peace proliferate.
Of course, none of us can ever anticipate,
Nor can anyone fully appreciate
How long, how dreary this time we tolerate.
Ideas germinate, but we procrastinate.
We mean to get things done, but wait!
A nap is calling, so we vacillate.
Clean closets, tax prep, and such might motivate.
Maybe tomorrow. Today we vegetate!
Note: This is some sort of rhyming verse, I think.
The Christmas tree is a symbol of love… ~Andy Rooney, American radio and TV writer
I
Become
Dazzling
When my lady
Hangs decorations
On my branches and then
Steps back to admire the view.
Red ornaments and golden bows
Make me feel like a real Christmas tree,
Proving once again all trees are special.
Note: Poetry form is Etheree. I’ll be taking a few days off to celebrate the holidays with family and friends. Please, everyone, have a safe and beautiful Christmas and New Year’s Day!
Musings by an ND Domer's Mom 