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December 26, 2007
An after Christmas wish
~from Alexander Pope, these peaceful words
The Quiet Life
Happy the man whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound.
Content to breathe his native air
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk,
whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire.
Whose trees in summer
yield him shade.
In winter fire...
Posted by Carol at 10:53 AM | Comments (0)
December 23, 2007
Dickens got it right
Last evening I completed my 32nd annual read of Dicken's A Christmas Carol. If ever there was a book to put my thoughts where they ought to be at the celebration of Christ's birthday, it is this one. The characters, setting, plot and overall message are perfectly written by Mr. Dickens.
"... for it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself."
Merry Christmas to all and God bless us, everyone!
Posted by Carol at 12:11 PM | Comments (0)
December 22, 2007
Aunt Sylvia's Smile
My Aunt Syliva passed away on Thursday morning - well into her 90's she had lived a full life in the truest sense. A teacher for over 40 years (starting out in a rural one room school), a farm wife and mother, avid quilter and traveler etc etc. But the one thing that I will remember her for is her constant smile and ready laugh. A trait she likely inherited from her parents - my paternal grandparents - and one that her sisters and brothers (my father!) all share and that I really try to emulate every day. As my aunt joins her two sisters, a brother, and parents in heaven I am sure they are sitting down to a great discussion as the Cherrington family likes to do, followed by a rousing game of cribbage!
Posted by Carol at 2:25 PM | Comments (0)
December 16, 2007
Happy Birthdays
Yesterday, to my dear sister Judith Lynne and today, to the most dear author Jane Austen.
Posted by Carol at 11:56 PM | Comments (0)
December 11, 2007
Spam Poem
This "poem" came along with a spam email for an online drugstore ~ as if adding this would make a person want to place an order?! I wonder if it is a poor translation of a real poem?
A row of country cottages,
but with front walls only.
I stand at the window,
and try to look homely.
Our lives are not our details,
our eyes see not our diaries.
I knew you well with zero tell,
because I only drew the ironies.
Poetry as the frog that cannot jump,
art as the frog that tried.
There is a distance no words can trump,
that anchor of the heard inside.
Like fifteen nuns riding a single motorcycle, on a road trip to find the best printing shop.
I hear physical world maintainers find the go, and spiritual world maintainers find the stop.
Funny thing is, I sort of like this poem:)
Posted by Carol at 9:21 AM | Comments (0)
December 9, 2007
Snow falling on leaf bags
We have had our first snows of the season this week - on Wednesday and Friday we woke up to several inches of gently fallen flakes, the kind that rests on every branch and object on the ground. Photo ops abounded. As I drove along the streets of our neighborhood early Friday morning, I saw alot of "Leaf it at the Curb" bags waiting for city pickup and covered with a lovely layer of snow. Another reminder of how we went from summer to fall to winter in a very few weeks!
Posted by Carol at 6:00 PM | Comments (0)