Tuesday, April 27, 2010
"The seasons are shifting, The winter shades lifting,
The springtime is filling
Earth's children with mirth.
The daffodil yellow, The south wind so mellow,
The gentle rain falling,
Upon the green earth.
The song sparrow singing, New life quickly springing,
All nature is telling
A tale of rebirth:
The deep wells of being, Beyond each day's seeing,
O'er flowing with new Life,
Restoring the earth."
- David Bumbaugh, Spring
'Daisies are the friendliest flower, don't you think?" A line from You Got Mail.
I found this lovely picture of a girl nymph celebrating the coming of Spring. Beautiful!!!
Posted by bloubell at 9:52 AM
Monday, April 26, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
This was a lot of fun to do, I am happy with the outcome. The shrine itself is handmade, I took a class from "Roses on my table" for the basics and added my own embellishments. My husband made another one out of wood, So that is next. Hope you like it.Any feedback is appreciated.
Posted by bloubell at 8:52 AM
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
A challenge for spring, It says: You have to believe in happiness, Or happiness never comes....Ah, that is the reason a bird can sing, On his darkest day he believes in Spring. by Douglas Malloch " Hope Springs eternal"
A triangle shaped bottle , Really don't like the shape.There is no definite area for something lovely to rest.
Posted by bloubell at 4:24 AM
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Too much blood thinner, caused a subdural hemetoma. MRI today. Hoping for the best with no after shocks. Thankyou for your concern and prayers. MRI showed no change since the catscan. appt. in UW coming up, hands and legs have improved.It is all good so far.
Posted by bloubell at 8:42 AM
Friday, April 2, 2010
The "Avenue," so called by the Newbridge people, was a stretch of road four or five hundred yards long, completely arched over with huge, wide-spreading apple-trees, planted years ago by an eccentric old farmer. Overhead was one long canopy of snowy fragrant bloom. Below the boughs the air was full of a purple twilight and far ahead a glimpse of painted sunset sky shone like a great rose window at the end of a cathedral aisle.
Its beauty seemed to strike the child dumb. She leaned back in the buggy, her thin hands clasped before her, her face lifted rapturously to the white splendor above. Even when they had passed out and were driving down the long slope to Newbridge she never moved or spoke. Still with rapt face she gazed afar into the sunset west, with eyes that saw visions trooping splendidly across that glowing background. Through Newbridge, a bustling little village where dogs barked at them and small boys hooted and curious faces peered from the windows, they drove, still in silence. When three more miles had dropped away behind them the child had not spoken. She could keep silence, it was evident, as energetically as she could talk.
A Spring poem....
The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You're one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you're two months back in the middle of March.
Robert Frost (1874–1963)
Posted by bloubell at 3:59 AM