Tuesday, March 19, 2013


We're getting lots of snow here today on top of what fell last night. I hope that's it! Really now!!! Remember: tomorrow is the first day of spring. While it is so picturesque, I’ll be inside today, except to feed the birds. There's a bird feeding frenzy out there and I think I'll run out of food for them soon. I've noticed some Red-winged Blackbirds here the last few days and I'm trying to get some shots of them. I started a photo file to help identify the birds and I hope that I'm getting better in spotting and naming them. If I've identified any of these birds incorrectly, please correct me; I'd appreciate the help.  I'm taking some pictures from my window, where I can keep dry. For those of us that are fortunate enough to be indoors enjoy the view. 




Sunday, March 17, 2013


La brea ata ann!
It’s a lovely day!

Happy St Patrick’s Day to everyone and Happy Birthday to my husband Don, who is seventy-four today! Without a speck of Irish blood in him, he feels he’s an honorary Irishman and the luck of the Irish is always with him.

This year, we’ll be celebrating at home and watching the parade on TV. The corned beef is already up on the stove and filling the house with a yummy aroma that always brings me back to my childhood. To trace my father’s lineage, I dream of traveling to Ireland with him.  That’s where my dreams take me today-to my grandparents Ireland. We travel the coastline beaches of Cork, and look for the Blarney Castle, walk in emerald grass with sheep abounding and enter the magical woods of Glengarriff. With our ears filled with music and lullabies, stories of leprechauns and laughter, we would sip some tea in a cottage of sod and relish that time forever.

As I prepare dinner for tonight, I leave you with an Irish blessing:
“May you have warm words on a cold evening, a full moon on a dark night and a smooth road all the way to your door.”

Saturday, March 9, 2013


Many years ago, I found this poem by James Hearst in an old magazine. I copied it, framed it and around this time of year, I like to share it with some of my friends. Tonight we will be setting our clocks ahead and I thought it was time to share it again with you. It is like an old friend that speaks of spring and hope and faith and of course the glorious Forsythia.


You said, take a few dry

sticks, cut the ends slantwise

to let in water, stick them

in the old silver cup on the

dresser in the spare room and

wait for the touch of Easter.

But a cold wave protected the

snow, and the sap’s pulse beat

so low underground I felt no

answer in myself except silence.

You said, winter breaks out in

flowers for the faithful and

today when I opened the door

the dry sticks spoke in little

yellow stars and I thought

of you.

                     JAMES HEARST