It's Sunday and it is a beautiful day. The words are weaving and the heart is growing softer, I can almost feel the sprinkling of magic covering me. You say it just another day? The love I carry with me and the blessings handed out so freely make every day special. So many things about this world are running on a negative spin, but many out there have banded together to make this time count towards a positive outcome. I am touched by the way kindness has just radiated outward, giving to those in need, opening up their hearts and homes. Can we please do this kind thing all year round?
Out of the clouds of obscurity did you come
Leaving the drops on some, and others none
Revealing her beauty in its most natural state
Stealing my perception
Of what's wrong and right
Shrouded this morning in a blanket of dew
Refreshing the state of dear Mother Nature
A gentle trickle of the spring rolls down, seeking a place to deposit its water. This has been an abundant week, almost too much. Enough water to drive little tiny ants indoors, thankfully the 30 little specs kept to the counter near the sink. I actually spied two of them as I was going off to bed last night, and this morning, they brought a few of their best friends. They seem to have found greener pastures to explore, however, I cannot say that I will miss them or want them back anymore.
They missed pie and ice cream, sorry to say... I am sure that might have encouraged them to stay at least one more day. The pie was delicious, apple this time. I think that the strawberries will be the very next. Have you ever made a strawberry pie? There is jam to be made, and some fruit to be frozen. For leaner days when there is no fruit. Sounds good, right?
The later days of Spring continue the beauty afforded by nature, and it is purely sublime. How can it be any other way? Today is a #BeautifulSunday by @Ace108, where we share our day in the most possibly beautiful way that we can. How can one refute the beauty of nature, laying at our feet? I am having the best of days, a definite #SublimeSunday in the making, by the Meister of my morning, @c0ff33a. I do love my @c0ff33 and he likes eclectic! A definite match, made in heaven. I want to thank @ace108 and @c0ff33a for hosting these fun challenges! Check them out!
I wanted to take a moment to wish each of you a wonderful week ahead. May the good things in life be yours in abundance, not only on special days of the year but every other day too. Sometimes, we have to just stop and appreciate our many hidden blessings, for this allows us to have a truly grateful heart. May your tomorrow and the days that follow be filled with the warmth of the season. It was 83 degrees (29C) here today, so there is plenty of warm to go around.
A little gravy, some call it sauce, made with love. An abundance of hot Italian sausage, meatballs made just the way the family loves them, pieces of leftover pork thrown in... simmered most of the day... Do you call it sauce or gravy or even ragu? Oh, it is an age-old discussion on the East Coast.
Some Italians will tell you that gravy was a term that their grandmother used for Sunday sauce because it is what they served at big family gatherings after mass. If someone said, “where’s the gravy?” they were looking for the sauce or topping. Geography has probably played a large role in the debate about where the term gravy came from. Early immigrants eager to assimilate to their American counterparts may have adopted the term gravy on the East Coast – we’ve all heard the term Brooklyn Gravy. source
After dinner, I planted some caladium and impatients. They are small, but, they are pretty fast growers! We will check their progress in a few weeks.
The peonies were absolutely amazing this year! Their perfume is deliciously elegant, although people are known to get headaches from them. My house smells like a florist shop tonight. Although it has been a fabulous day, it is time to call it! Thanks for coming along on my #beautifulsunday, it doesn't get any better than to be surrounded by love and breaking bread with each other! And just like that, this post is over! Come back tomorrow and we will do it again! Have a great week ahead!
All I have are my words, armed in my mind, written in pen, stand by stand. Oh, yes. Still by hand. It has a different feel. Altered not by keys, backspace, and delete, I write, erase, tear it to pieces and start all over again. And again.
It’s my way. I walk out to the deep end of the page and dive right in.
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
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