Like Father, Like Son

Happy Birthday, Chester!!!

A few months ago we were browsing through the Dadant catalog and saw this child's beekeeper suit. Chester expressed an enthusiastic desire to partake in his Daddy's hobby. I thought that was just the greatest idea, so for quite some time I planned on purchasing this outfit for Chester's birthday. Chester hadn't mentioned it again, and he really didn't seem to have his heart set on anything in particular in the way of birthday gifts. Yesterday I was poking around a little bit to see if he did have any expectations I wasn't aware of, and he said... so long as my birthday present has something to do with bugs I will love it!!! I sure was relieved!! This is a very buggy gift, and very bonding as well, and SWEET!!! Jason's honey extractor came the same day the child's beekeeper suit did, so hopefully they will soon be filling our home with the valuable and delicious liquid gold, which, by the way happens to be the only real food that does not spoil, or so I have read. I think we are all feeling very blessed in this household today!!! Thank YOU, Heavenly Father!!!

Birthday Blessings... Sweet Avé

Such sweet ways
From a caring heart
Teaching love
Right from the start
A harsh word
Rarely leaves your tongue
Though goals for you
Aren't always fun
The other children
Know you're kind
Help from you
They always find
My hope and prayer
For you, dear girl
Is that every trial
Becomes a pearl
And every tear
Makes a flower grow
Surely you will reap
All the love that you sow

They Said It

No honest poet can ever feel quite sure of the permanent value of what he has written: he may have wasted his time and messed up his life for nothing. T. S. Eliot

To a poet, silence is an acceptable response, even a flattering one. Sidonie Gabrielle Colette


Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does. Allen Ginsburg


As soon as war is declared it will be impossible to hold the poets back. Rhyme is still the most effective drum. Jean Giraudoux


If poets were realistic, they wouldn't be poets. Peter Davison


Poets don't draw. They unravel their handwriting and then tie it up again, but differently. Jean Cocteau


Poets should ignore most criticism and get on with making poetry. Anne Stevenson

Still Time

All I really want to do
Is sit and read a book or two
Dream away the lovely day
With coffee and and a little play
Smell the flowers, pet the dog
Watch the creek, find a frog
Imagine shapes in fluffy clouds
Hear my children laugh out loud
Spread a blanket, feel the breeze
Spend a day in blissful ease
Write a poem, draw a cat
Surely this is where its at
Someday as I am old and bent
I'll wonder where my youth has went
All my babes will be so grown
With lives and children of their own
Today I think I'll seize the hour
No matter if there's sun or showers
So long as they are here and young
With lovely little tunes they hum
Special moments, daydreams are
For some it takes them very far
Up a mountain, down a cave
The famous and the very brave
Had a mother, had a thought
Had a vision and a plot
No harm in thinking, that's just me
That is why we're here and free
Give them room to know their mind
Though it is fleeting, there's still time.

Contented Sigh

Loving the season
Loving the life
Loving the man
That calls me his wife
The air all around us
Is sensing the change
The coming of autumn
A time for sweet gain
Assessing the harvest
Chopping the wood
Securing the windows
Storing the goods
Stacking the grasses
Making time for the books
Unpacking the sweaters
From their summertime nooks
Of blankets there's plenty
The wood stove we'll fill
Potatoes we'll dig
From the gardener's hill
Hang them in baskets
In the basement, just so
Enjoying the pleasures
When the coming of snow
Forces us indoors
At least for awhile
The efforts of this time
Will then make us smile.

Through the Eyes of My Children

The children use the camera from time to time. Here is a post about some of the pics they have taken lately. Not only am I impressed with the quality of some of their photographs, but I am fascinated at the shots they choose to take. These pictures were all taken at our home. Glimpses of life through the eyes of my children...



























I am not sure which child deserves credit for which photos. Avé, Destiny, and Savannah mostly take turns using the camera lately, but Chester and Shiloh will occasionally take a turn practicing photography as well. It is a lovely form of art, and can of course turn into a career someday if they so choose and are able to develop the necessary skills. Around here that qualifies as highly educational and a form of expression that I hope to continue to be able to encourage.


























The young photographers notice and appreciate the beauty of the simple things... the pile of winter wood, the clean dishes and the bowls of ripe tomatoes fresh from our own garden, the sweet goats and flowers, the blue sky full of fluffy white clouds, the forest of summertime. They also deserve credit for the sunflower picture I posted at the top of my blog. This is our life, but I so often focus on the things that need done, the endless "to do lists". I get discouraged. I forget to stop and really see what is important. We are so blessed. What a privilege to raise such pleasant people in a home nestled snugly in nature.

Less Petit Rats... Much Less

Little ballerina
Running through the walls
Chewing at the plaster
Nibbling in the halls
Peeking so discreetly
Staying in the lurk
Warnings come so loudly
I mean to do you hurt
Brother feels so fondly
Me, I hate your guts
I wouldn't mind you nearly
If you stayed in your own hut
With all your many offspring
And all your stolen goods
Hang your little children
From the nearest wood
And watch the owls and cats
Haunt my garden grave
You'll wish you were a bat
This coming rat dooms day