Pure joys

I have had a trying couple of days.  A flux of wonderful and hurtful, but through it all my duaghter has been oblivious and I am glad.  I watch her and think of Christ asking us to be like little children.  The pure joys that they experiance because of things like a train whistle in the distance, showing a favorite stufed toy the ABC's in a book, the spray of a sprinkler, or the magic of bubbles.

If only we adults could let go of our obsessions over money, our vehemence over politics, our judgments in the name of religion, and such.  The world would be a better place.  today I think I'll stop for a nap, drink a glass of coco, color for a while, and look for the pure joy in the day.

Sunrise and Longfellow

A excerpt from Longfellow's "Sunrise On a Hill" and a photo of today's sunrise.

I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch
Was glorious with the sun's returning march,
And woods were brightened, and soft gales
Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales.

. . . 

If thou art worn and hard beset
With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget,
If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep
Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep,
Go to the woods and hills! No tears
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.

 

Fall has arived and I can breath again.  Sweet Potato and Pumpkin are on the shopping list, along with fresh peaches and pears.  Most autmns I get so inspired and this one is no exception, but I have a two year old that is in full fury.  No quiet mornings, no calm nights.  I rise like a zombie in the morning and tumble like the dead into bed at night.

I hope that I can get decorated for Halloween in a timely manor, that Thanksgiving (spent in a hotel this year) will not be a nightmare, and the Christmas will be uplifting. 

I miss the solitary falls of my single life.  I love Rick and my Boo, but I would love to spend a day quietly writing and drinking coco.  I should make some goals for myself;  not the loose weight and lower cholesterol kind, but the finish a tatted snowflake, make sweet potato casserole for no reason, or sew a wall hanging kind of goals.  My mother calls these moments "hyacinths for the soul"  I call them roses in winter.

What kinds of roses would you gather in winter? Mine will be small, but loved.  How about you?