Dark hills against a hollow crocus sky
Scarfed with its crimson pennons, and below
The dome of sunset long, hushed valleys lie
Cradling the twilight, where the lone winds blow
And wake among the harps of leafless trees
Fantastic runes and mournful melodies.
The chilly purple air is threaded through
With silver from the rising moon afar,
And from a gulf of clear, unfathomed blue
In the southwest glimmers a great gold star
Above the darkening druid glens of fir
Where beckoning boughs and elfin voices stir.
And so I wander through the shadows still,
And look and listen with a rapt delight,
Pausing again and yet again at will
To drink the elusive beauty of the night,
Until my soul is filled, as some deep cup,
That with divine enchantment is brimmed up.
by Lucy Maud Montgomery
The promise of tomorrow
And the hope of dreams come true…
A reminder of the childhood
That’s still a part of you…
The wonder of a miracle
From which this love began…
There is so much found in the touch
Of holding a grandchild’s hand.
~ Author Unknown ~
“Over The Line”
White Linen Heaven
A warm sunny day of youth
Memories of white linen sheets
Hanging on the line to dry
The air filled with fragrance oh so sweet
The edge of each sheet decorated
with grandma and mothers loving hands
Crafted embroidery of brilliant flowers
Even a few monograms
After they dried in the summer sun
Mother takes them in to iron there
A sprinkle of water and starch
Then pressed with loving care
My job was to help make the beds
Mother snaps the sheets out
I help make the corners match
Tuck the corners in so they won’t fall out
When all is done a long wait for evening
I couldn’t wait to crawl in
Between those crisp cool sheets
Of white linen heaven
Clotheslines: Public opinion is shifting
Hanging out the laundry is being touted as a way to go green at home. But some Minnesota communities have bans against the old-fashioned practice.Clotheslines save money, conserve electricity and burn calories. They have also been banned in several suburbs and neighborhoods.One afternoon last summer, I went to the hardware store, bought a length of clothesline and 100 wooden clothespins, went home, and hung out the wash
We’re talking about a time long long ago,
Happy places, happy faces, things went slow.
Folks strolling along down the sidewalk,
Aways stopping with their neighbor to talk.
Listen to the children’s laughter in the air,
Up and down each street, they were everywhere.
The sound of a ball hitting hard off the bat,
The thump of roller skates over each crack.
The enjoyment of a front yard is a thing of the past,
Back then you’d hear father’s yelling, get off the grass!
Lemon aid stands and croquet sets ready to go,
Now the front yard is just something to mow.
Ah, but the very best was the front porch time we spent,
After work, after school, after dinner, their we went.
Parents sitting on porch swings and in the wicker chairs
Children hanging on the rails and sitting on the stairs.
Young and old gathered on the porch summer nights,
Drinking ice tea while chatting about the days news.
Lingering on until aglow became all the street lights
Walking back home feeling no better life could they choose.
The very best thing I remember about my porch,
On rainy days when we couldn’t go out to play,
Mother would make cookies and call our friends,
And on the porch we would laugh and play all day.
by Eileen clark
From My Porch After the end of a long hot day At the end of my rope - with nerves all frayed I sat on the porch…to rest a spell As the sun slipped… slowly behind the hill Calmed…by the lingering…after glow I watched…the summer night unfold Crimson streaks…on a sky of blue Melted…in a thousand…different hues Got lost…in the dark…without the light Leaving…just their shadows…in the night And in fields…of clover…across the way The crickets…began…their serenade As fireflies danced…with sheer delight Glowing…in love…with this summer night And there…ahead…at the end of the road Above the bridge…where the river flows It rose - like magic - before my eyes An orange moon… so big…it filled the sky
Poem by ~Elaine George
Painting by ~ Eileen Clark ( Watercolor)
The Best of Elaine George
The afternoon is bright,
with spring in the air,
a mild March afternoon,
with the breath of April stirring,
I am alone in the quiet patio
looking for some old untried illusion –
some shadow on the whiteness of the wall
some memory asleep
on the stone rim of the fountain,
perhaps in the air
the light swish of some trailing gown.
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.
March bustles in on windy feet
And sweeps my doorstep and my street.
She washes and cleans with pounding rains,
Scrubbing the earth of winter stains.
She shakes the grime from carpet green
Till naught but fresh new blades are seen.
Then, house in order, all neat as a pin,
She ushers gentle springtime in.
The March wind roars
Like a lion in the sky,
And makes us shiver
As he passes by.
When winds are soft,
And the days are warm and clear,
Just like a gentle lamb,
Then spring is here.
My Chocolate Blog ~ https://foreverchocolate.wordpress.com/
the sauce in a big way all winter.
Amidst blizzards they wrestle
unsuccessfully with the dark comedy
of their lives, laughter trapped
in their frigid gizzards. Meanwhile,
the mercury just plummets,
like a migrating duck blasted
out of the sky by some hunter