Mainely Write

in the early morning hours a Boy slipped into this world so early that  he barely missed any part of the day. It was a great day to be born!
Chocolate cows quietly grazed on Morning dewed fragrant green fields, and Steaming fog lifted from night cooled meadows and ponds, While the sun glistened on feathery tassels of golden corn And giant puffy white whipped cream clouds floated in A blueberry sky. It was a beautiful day to be born!
but in the room  Little Eyes only  saw shadowy figures, eyes and  smiles and  heard  soft voices and felt caressing hands softly stroking his oh, so, soft face.
 It was a lovely day to be born!
Outside, the wide world was beckoning ‘Please, come out and play! There is a world of wonder awaiting you.' It was a wonderful day to be born!
but the world of wonder will still  be there tomorrow. right now he is OUR World of Wonder! It was a glorious day to be born!

Meet the newest member of the family; our first grandchild, Felix! What a handsome dude!
He waited to arrive until after our 8 hour drive. We got there at 2 am and he arrived at 4:15 am, weighing in at 7 lb. 3 oz. and standing 20 inches tall... if he could stand.
You know there has to be a poem in here somewhere! Just wait until I get some sleep! I've been up all night.

I took this picture of my son and his grandmother at our niece's wedding on Saturday.
Son Of mine Once so small Smiling on life Caped superhero Defender of the weak A sentry, righter of wrongs “How are you?” I’d ask. “Pretty fine.”
I listened in awe and watched with pride As he grew into a fine gentleman Devoted to family and friends Loving, giving, caring for all Secure in his convictions Trustworthy and honest Life smiles on him, too Quiet and strong I smile to Think of Him

Terzanelle The Terzanelle is a poetry type, which is a combination of the villanelle and the terza rima forms.  It is a 19-line poem consisting of five interlocking triplets/tercets plus a concluding quatrain in which the first and third lines of the first triplet appear as refrains.  The middle line of each triplet is repeated, reappearing as the last line of the succeeding triplet with the exception of the center-line of the next-to-the-last stanza which appears in the quatrain.  Each line of the poem should be the same metrical length.

Was It by Chance?

Was it by chance You’d understand? Was it by chance?
Just for today Someone was here, You’d understand.
How would you know With foreign ears? Someone was here
Offering love Within our doors With foreign ears
Extending hands Beyond a voice Within our doors,
A kindred voice. Was it by chance Your first day here? Was it by chance?
A muslim woman came to our church yesterday.  She spoke very little English.  We have a small congregation.  Was it by …

I am one day late for the August 10 for 10: Authors I Just Can't Live Without listing, but thought I'd like to do it anyway.  I may not be teaching now, but I still love picture books, and so will grandchildren when they arrive!
So here's my list of books I love to read to kids.  Some are old, some are newer, and the last I actually haven't read yet, but I'm pretty sure it will be a favorite after watching David Wiesner's video about it on his site.
So because it is the 11th day of August, I've listed 11 of my favorites.  They are old favorites.  I wasn't going for newer, so don't be critical.  These books are still good!
Besides, I'm tired.  I've spent all day yesterday standing in fog and mist watching while I have someone else's septic tank get cleaned and then doing a house inspection.  We'd better get this house.  I have a lot of money tied up in it already that ultimately will benefit the sellers! 
Today I've spent a coup…

Braving fog that's coming in Thistles by the sea Fog hovers o'er the sea and land And settles in on me.
Surging in to shore Comes a misty roll It overtakes my being And reaches to my soul.
Don your bright sou'wester Breathe deep the salty air As foggy day approaches To dampen tousled hair.
Wafting through the mist Sounds a distant horn Moans within the cloud All sailors to forewarn.
Tomorrow will dawn brighter For thistles by the sea Lifting prickled leaves and head They'll host a cautious bee.
The sun will kiss the waves The fog will lift at last And sailors will go out to sea Their nets again to cast.
And thistles by the sea Live on forevermore Through wind and wave and fog They'll stand beside the shore.

************************************* My grandparents were "Thistles", as was I.  They came here by ferry from Newfoundland just after they had their first child.  My grandfather was a seal hunter, sent out at the age of 10 or 13 to work on a seal boat; a fisherman and a lobs…

The house sits alone Waiting for someone Who will not come; A sealed box. Open it tenderly. Step quietly Inside this Glimpse of Someone's life: Clothing missing touches, Photographs with muted voices, Chairs dusty and cold, Books closed and stiff, Walls with faded, flowered curls. Each room holding memories Of someone. The house sits alone Waiting for someone To come To warm its core To rekindle life And love. We will be That someone now.

It seemed just another Sunday.
As we gathered in the back room though, we were missing five of our twelve choir members.  It was a bit unusual, but we'd manage.  We'd just have to reposition ourselves and sing louder!
We filed in to signal the start of the morning’s message service.  All appeared normal.  But as in a "what's wrong with this picture" page, the differences slowly became apparent.  A couple that was normally two rows from the back on the center aisle was sitting two pews from the front on the side aisle.  A mother and son who were usually in the back pew on the left, were one pew forward of their rightful seats.   It’s not like people own pews or anything, but it’s still somewhat disturbing when people are displaced.  You know that something is up with God.
We sang.  We finished.  Nothing else was different so far . . . We filed down and slid into to our seats, and the message began.
“Now!” I guess God must have said.
A baby cried.  Thi…