It was only forty degrees this morning, my coffee tasted so good today! Take a peek at other Wordless Wednesday entrants here:)
I believe humans get a lot done, not because we’re smart, but because we have thumbs so we can make coffee. ~Flash Rosenberg
Photo Friday Subject: The Ordinary
I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me. ~ Isaac Newton
Me and the mister were sitting out on the deck last night listening to summer come to a close in our northern state. The sound of the crickets, tree frogs, and buzzing cicada’s got so loud at one point we looked at each other and laughed out loud. I remembered laying in my childhood bed with my head on the windowsill listening to the same sounds, knowing that September had arrived bringing cooler nights for sleeping and a new school year. That’s me on the right with my brother David, my sister Amy, and our happy little baby sister Carrie.
I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips. ~Violette Leduc
Take a peek at other Wordless Wednesday entrants here:)
Today’s word on Photo Friday is Exercise, something I should do more often. Still, the little yoga and stretching I do works wonders on keeping the aches and pains of Fibromyalgia and old(er) age from taking over. My birthday is in two weeks and this one will herald my final year in my forties. The idea of aging has never really bothered me since there’s really only one alternative! I think having lived a good part of my life dealing with health problems has given me a different perspective than some of my friends, I know first hand that how old you are in years doesn’t really matter, it’s how you feel. My mom seems to be a bit better as she settles into the nursing home for some rehab. The goal is to get her strong enough to go home. If she rallies that’s the plan, if not, we may have to begin hospice care 😦
Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory. ~Albert Schweitzer
I do not want to get to the end of my life and find that I just lived the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well. ~Diane Ackerman
I took my mom to get some bloodwork early this morning and then spent a few hours hanging out with her while my dad golfed. She’s not doing so well. It was nice to just be with her though, seems like I usually see her just long enough to drag her to and from doctor appointments. When I got home I decided to participate with a blog that has people post photos of the sky where they live. I went to the park across the street and snapped a few, one of which is gracing this post. There’s a busy playground on one side of the park, a ball diamond, and this lovely little fishing hole tucked between some hills. As I was looking at the peace-filled photos I wondered why I don’t grab a book and go plop down there on a bench to read sometime?
Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. ~Rachel Carson
In summer, the song sings itself. ~William Carlos Williams
I love when I come across a sentence or a paragraph in a book with words that seem to sing to me. Sentences that I read over again just so I can savor their cadence, their melody. When I was growing up my mother filled our home with books. We had a huge wall of shelves with everything from Faulkner to Fitzgerald to Conroy to Willa Cather on them. Before I could read grown-up books I would stand in front of those shelves and pull books out one at a time, I would feel their weight in my small hands and smell their yellowed pages. If we are fortunate, our mother’s love gives us many gifts while growing up, such as a sense of security, support, and comfort. My mother gave me those things and she also gave me words. Below is a quote from Leif Enger’s novel, Peace Like a River. The main character has briefly crossed over to that place between life and death.
At the moment I had no notion of identity. Nor of burden. I laughed in place of language. The meadow hummed as though thick with the nests of waking creatures, and the grasses were canyon colored, lifting their heads as I passed. Moving up from the river the humming began to swell-it was magnetic, a sound uncurling into song and light and even a scent, which was like earth, and I must’ve then entered the region of nests, for up scattered finches and cheeky longspurs and every sort of bunting and bobolink and piebald tanager. All these rose with sweet chaotic calls, whirling and resettling to the grass.
Leif Enger wrote those words but my mother gave them to me. Thanks mom.
bookbabie 