My Paintings

Potted Flowers

Summers finally at it’s hot and humid end

This year’s not been much of a gardeners friend

Taking so much time to fill several of my large pots

With a verity of organic seeds, spending quite a lot

~*~

 I prepared well using the right mixtures of loam

Was looking forward to see many colors in bloom

With a watering can, I used exactly the right spray

 Matters not, it’s so dry, things are wasting away

~*~

All that came up was pathetic skinny sprouts

Using a catalog to order I should have had doubts

Flower images looked great on the side of the pack

Now I think it’s time I should get all my money back

~*~

In my minds eye I see lovely flowers along my deck

In the yellow pages all the nurseries I should check

Or better yet I really need to talk to my friend Jake

Well he gave me the best advice, all his flowers are fake!

Author Eileen Clark 2022

Image: wayfair.com

Fall · My Poems ~ Others poems

Kids Write Poems About Fall

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Fall

Fall this year will see me tall
I grew big over the summer
It’s the the best one of them all
The leaves are red and gold
This winter I will be olderby Jimmy age 6

Mom Photographer Takes Fairy Tale-Like Photos Of Her Children Enjoying Autumn

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Fiery, orange
leaves cover
the rich,
grass. A
monarch butterfly
flutters through
the morning air.

Emily C, age: 12, Year: 8, Selwyn House School, ChristchurchPoem:https://nzpoetrybox.wordpress.com/tag/poems-by-children/

http://photographycastiel.blogspot.com/2012/11/michelle-pumpkin-patch-family-portraits.html

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Image result for images of kids in the fall

Image:http://tinyxdreamer.tumblr.com/image/31739072247

autumn-children-photography-jessica-drossin-8

Falling Leaves

LEAVES, RED, ORANGE, AND FALLING
DYING, CHANGING, YELLOW, BROWN, AND GOLDEN
COLORS, BRIGHT, GLOWING, LIVELY
MAKE AN AUTUMN SHADOW FLOWING
COLORS BEYOND BELIEF
By Anita
Age 10

Poem: https://www.loriswebs.com/youngpoets/anita.htmlImage: https://www.demilked.com/mom-photographer-takes-fairy-tale-like-photos-of-her-children-enjoying-autumn/

autumn · Fall

Saving Fall Leaves

FotoFlexer_Photo

Did any of you do this ? Every fall my mom would have my brothers and I get a paper bag and go for a walk in the woods and collect colored leaves. When we got them home we would pick out the very best leaves, perfect shape and colors counted. We would then place them on a sheet of wax paper placing another sheet on the top and then go over it with a slightly warm iron. Mom would tape them to the glass on our windows.

It reminded me of stained glass windows when the sun shown directly on the glass, awesome. The nice thing was that they lasted for a long time right through the winter if you like. It’s such a little thing but I loved the time we spent doing this and I did the same with my children on down to my grandchildren and we all  loved it and every fall looked forward doing it.

I was thinking about it yesterday and wondered, do they even make wax paper anymore ? So I would try to find some pictures of pressing leaves by doing a google search and wow! I was quite surprised and delighted to see how many people still do this. Interesting thing is folks have found new ways to preserve their beautiful leaves and display them in very interesting ways and yes, they still do make wax paper! We kids called it pressing leaves, today some call them Suncatchers. It’s the little things that kids remember.

How To Preserve Leaves (6 Methods)

https://www.the-modern-dad.com/fall-learning-mrs-dunnigan/
http://www.thecraftycrow.net/2014/09/fall-crafts-for-toddlers.html
http://riverblissed.blogspot.com/2012/11/in-quest-of-light-lf-lantern-tutorials.html
Fall · My Poems ~ Others poems

To Autumn

Image result for beautiful images of Fall

To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

*

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;

Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,

Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

Steady thy laden head across a brook;

Or by a cider-press, with patient look,

Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

*

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,–

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn

Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

John Keats, 1795 – 1821

John Keats
Born in 1795, John Keats was an English Romantic poet and author of three poems considered to be among the finest in the English language.
My Poems ~ Others poems

An Autumn Evening

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