On a Carousel.

On a Carousel by the Hollies

Riding along on a carousel 
Trying to catch up to you.
Riding along on a carousel 
Will I catch up to you?

Horses chasing' cause they're racing
So near yet so far
On a carousel, on a carousel.

Soon you'll leave , then I'll loose you
Still we're going around 
On a carousel, on a carousel.

Round and round and round and round and round. 
And round and round and round with you.
Up,down,up,down,up, down too.

Riding along on a carousel 
Trying to catch up to you 
Will I catch up to you?

Now we take our ride together 
No more chasing you
On a carousel, on a carousel.

On a carousel, on a carousel!

Harps and Horses

We spent a wonderful Sunday afternoon enjoying brilliant, healing vibrations as a beautiful harpist made magic with her harp.

Our, almost ten year old, granddaughter found it rather amusing to be the only child in a room full of aging hippies. A fact that she stopped noticing once that she was totally absorbed into the music.

The relaxing sounds of the harp brought a relaxing, peaceful feeling to the room as the harp filled the room with its vibrations.

We, our granddaughter, more than anyone, loved the two encores that were gifted to us.

Our day got even better as we were given a basket and permission to gather fallen apples and feed them to the horses.

Six gorgeous deep brown horses soon gathered near the fence by which we stood.

In the words of our granddaughter, the horses had come to say thank you for the sweet treats that we had provided them.

Just as we had said, thank you for the gift of a wonderful afternoon of music, fellowship, and horses.

Create a Joy Moment

Pick a bouquet of wild flowers from the side of the road. Inhale the scents of the pinks and whites, the mauves and golds. Wrap the stems with string, and tie a bow.

Eat a big piece of chocolate cake. Allow the intoxicating aroma a warm cocoa to tickle your senses.

Take a walk in the forest and bathe in its goodness. Breathe deeply, sit quietly, and observe nature. Hug a tree.

Read your favourite book again. Remembering the journey of self-discovery and joy that it opened.

Write a poem. Share ideas, express ideas, and create imagery.

Dance like no one is watching. Be full of joy and let your spirit dance and sing.

Grab a canvass, a paint brush, and three of your favourite colours. Watch as your lines, colours, and composition light up what once was white.

This Dead Tree

We have this dead tree
in our yard.
When it died
I took it very hard. 

For that beautiful 
Norwegian Spruce,
I dug the hole.
I planted the roots.

It was a tiny sapling,
less than two feet high.
From a distance 
you couldn't see it with your eye.

For thirty years
strong and high it grew.
Providing shelter and
shade anew.

Then came along
that ugly gypsy moth.
Their tiny mouths
chewing all the needles off.

Unlike the mighty oak,
this tree could not keep its health.
Instead, it died
all by itself.

Now it still stands
still tall and proud. 
It's branches thinning 
and dropping 
to the ground. 

Little birds
still on it perch.
Lots of bugs and insects
love its berth.

We'll leave it standing 
until it falls down.
Providing nourishment 
for everything around.

My Little Piece of Eden

I began the process of building this garden when my children began leaving home to pursue post secondary education.

Back then, the area was a small forest partly on our lawn but mostly in our field

A large, three trunked, old Manitoba maple tree was its focal point. Under its enormous boughs was the remaining sands of a large sandbox that was slowly being over run by a variety of ground covers and grasses.

An old apple tree, a lilac bush, and a number of oak and maple saplings covered the area. I trimmed and clipped and trimmed some more. I added a bench, a bit of a stone wall, a few hostas, and some English ivy.

A beautiful shade garden emerged. A canopy that provided shelter from the rain for the person resting on the bench.

Then, one day, while I was away, one of the three large trunks of the manitoa maple tree came crashing down, taking with it most of the oak and maple saplings. By the time I returned home, the remaining two trunks, now unsafe, had been taken down. A mass of branches and wood were all that remained.

I cried. I mourned the loss of my beautiful trees and the comfort they had provided me.

Then the sun came out. New opportunities poked out their little heads.

The hostas and the periwinkle began to bloom. The stump ends of the fallen trees , I covered with beautiful pieces of stained glass.

A Soul Sister project. Beautiful women creating beautiful art.

Another stone fence was added.

Friends shared pieces of their hydrangea bushes. My husband shared his lilies.

A pet cemetery found a home in the old sandbox.

Fairy houses found themselves a home.

Birds moved into the bird house.

Little feet run along the pathway that runs through the center of the garden.

Monarchs fly amongst the milkweed.

Lily of the valley and english ivy run rampant, as does the goutweed.

I celebrate my new garden as I pull weeds and apply grass clippings to keep them from coming back.

Mostly, I enjoy sitting on my bench.

As I celebrate my new sunny garden and the blessings it brings, I continue to mourn the loss of my shade garden and the protection it gave me.

Dry Rivers

Dry river……cry river…..My river is dry…..cry….try……my….bye……Said I……

Why do I continue to return
to the same dry wells.
Never, there, has my thirst ever
been quenched.

The steam rises,
the river bed swells.
The cards are on the table
and everything is drenched. 

Why do I constantly return?
Stay! the big mouth yells.
This time, I walk away,
my heart is wrenched.

The narrative has changed,
the way the story tells.
My soul,
it is entrenched. 

I am leaving,
silencing the bells.

Mariposa…2024…Playing in Harmony…

A sculpted hand. The perfect stroke of a paint brush.

Imagine 
The pink panther 
Leaning on a lamp post
A fedora,
on its head.
A long, white,
ivory cigarette holder
in his hand....

You can not put a price
On peace of mind. (WP)

Let my life be a prayer. (KW)

Bruce Cockburn, member of the Mariposa Hall of Fame…photo credit Darlene Gross.

I sincerely hope the young artist at this weekends festival listened to the lyrics of icon's songs.

Until next year…..

Playing in Harmony….

Until next year….

Joe, the Pig

There was a pig,
and his name was Joe.
He had a new job
but he just wouldn't go.

They gave him a corn cob,
and they gave him a bed.
All he did
was slap himself in the head.

He said, 'I can't go!
I belong in the zoo!'
'Where I can be seen!
by people like you!'

So he smiled, 
and he ran
to the zoo and said,
'Here I am! Here I am!

I AM YOUR MAN!!!!!!

Lavender Fields

Grandparenting, one of the greatest gifts that God has bestowed upon me.

Colours of lavender and lilac, mauve, and violet. Purple, light purple, pale purple, and dark purple. Pale purple, with a hint of pink.

Lavender lemonade from the Bank Cafe. Made with lavender from the Purple Hill lavender farm.

Pollinators busy at work during this International Pollinators Week.

Grandpa and Grandma, chilling with Cooper, and breathing in the sweet aroma of lavender fields. Photo by Cooper’s mom.

There are so many great places, so close to home, to explore and discover, in this great country of ours.

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