05/02/2023
We are all of us stars, and we deserve to twinkle.
- Marilyn Monroe
If you are going to rise you might shine as well.
We are all of us stars, and we deserve to twinkle.
- Marilyn Monroe
“Success is getting what you want, happiness is wanting what you get.” ―W. P. Kinsella
“Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterwards.” ―Vernon Sanders Law
“Simply shine your light on the road ahead, and you are helping others to see their way out of darkness.” – Katrina Mayer
“The first recipe for happiness is: avoid too lengthy meditation on the past.” —Andre Maurois 👌
“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
The Scarlet Oak Tree (Quercus Coccinea)
A scarlet oak tree is a medium to large sized, deciduous tree native to eastern and central United States. The scarlet oak tree is a tree that has vibrant foliage in the winter — leaves stay attached to the tree well into the winter, creating a stark and stunning contrast on snow landscapes.
The wood of this tree is coarse, heavy, and strong. It is commonly used for inferior constructions, but it is not used for ties, fuel, and props. The scarlet oak tree adds a beautiful aesthetic because of its unique colored leaves; it is often used as an ornamental piece by many homeowners.
The bark of this tree is smooth and light brown. As it gets older, it starts getting edges and furrows in it. The color of the bark turns black. The inner bark has a beautiful red color. The leaves of the scarlet oak tree are simple and toothed.
The Paper Birch Tree (Betula Papyrifera)
The paper birch tree is a medium sized, deciduous, and short-lived tree that is commonly found in North America. It earned its name as “paper” birch because the trunk of this tree is thin and white and it peels off as paper would. This tree is shade intolerant and it can grow in many different kinds of soils.
A paper birch tree flourishes the most when it is planted alongside streams, swamps, and lakes. The wood of this tree is strong, light, hard, tough and light brown in color. The wood is used to make wood pulp, woodenware, and spools.
In nature, the paper birch tree is a very important food source for moose during the winter. Although the bark is low in nutrients, there is enough of it to sustain them throughout the harsh and barren seasons.
The bark of this tree is reddish brown or golden when, but it soon turns into chalky white as the tree matures. The trunk is covered with thin shards of papery layers that peel away like shreds of paper. Leaves are similar to the leaves of its siblings, alternately arranged dark green leaves that end in a tip.
Wisteria
Late spring when we first saw the house,
with its back door a cave obscured
behind those breaking waves of blue
and white surge-foam of sweet blossom.
Bees, pollen and petals made it
difficult to weave a way in;
and in the drench of sun-showers
the water-falls of flowers purled.
Summer slowed the fall to trickles.
And since you’ve missed most of autumn,
let me say the wisteria
now is mostly air and grey cloud.
The few curved spatulas of pods
rattle like the wood-slat clackers
of a ghost-dispersing wind chime,
high against Himalayan grey.
Written by
Mark Allinson
Quartz Crystals
Fables, fairytale or folklore,
Legends are they, and more.
So into a legend I will delve,
words from dusty shelves.
In image, I am a scribe.
The Chief of the Mineral Tribe.
Quartz Crystal, clear light of creation.
My arms 'round Brother To***co,
we blend with Mother Earth in celebration.
This sacred mineral, wisdom doeth bring,
and clarity in dreams, where I dwell.
Peace and Harmony, seen in my eyes,
Truth in words, Spirit in heart, doth swell.
My hands write the words of song,
words to soothe the savage beast.
Tears may come from pain or sorrow,
my mistakes with laughter, at least.
A native of the original path,
Praying, "As above, so below."
The Ancient ones of the universe,
call it, the way of the old!
Quartz Crystal I will be,
When my body dries to dust.
Back to Mother Earth I go,
or will my bones become rust?
by Helen Leone Wilcox
The Amaranth
Ah, in the night, all music haunts me here. . . .
Is it for naught high Heaven cracks and yawns
And the tremendous Amaranth descends
Sweet with the glory of ten thousand dawns?
Does it not mean my God would have me say: —
“Whether you will or no, O city young,
Heaven will bloom like one great flower for you,
Flash and loom greatly all your marts among?”
Friends, I will not cease hoping though you weep.
Such things I see, and some of them shall come
Though now our streets are harsh and ashen-gray,
Though our strong youths are strident now, or dumb.
Friends, that sweet torn, that wonder-town, shall rise.
Naught can delay it. Though it may not be
Just as I dream, it comes at last I know
With streets like channels of an incense-sea.
by Vachel Lindsay
Beautiful Lavender Farm Tour
Our trip to the Lavender farm
Was nothing if not astounding
The Lavender plants were beautiful
And also the flowers surrounding
We were able to buy the products
Made from the Lavender flowers
All wrapped in pretty Lavender paper
We could have looked at them for hours
Then we strolled out to the pond
It was really beautiful and so serene
I wanted to take pictures
Of everything I’d seen
The bees were buzzin’ ‘round
Drinking the nectar so very sweet
They felt the way that we did
The farm flowers were such a treat
So come to see this special place
They might even give you a little snip
To take home with you, my friend
As you enjoy your Lavender Farm Trip!
by Marilyn Lott
What is a Desert?
Sands, unbroken by mosque or minaret,
Unstruck by tower or battlement;
Sands, endless, unbounded, eternal;
Sands, quivering with reflected heat,
Undulating as waves upon a frozen sea,
Conjoining the sky in a coppered haze
Where monstrous demons, sight-conjured,
Tread reelingly a dance of sun-desire,
Twisting and turning in a burning maze,
Tireless, grotesque, sinister.
Billow on billow of extended barrenness
Horizons unto the uttermost beyond,
As endless as the vast, unclouded firmament
Within whose scintillating waste of blue
The sun's wide curvature burns far and still.
No spot of verdure meets the ever-seeking eye,
No icy pool where anguished thirst may be slaked,
No green oasis rearing crested palms aloft.
None of these, but in their stead,
Against the palpitating sheet of heat
Fantastic scenes appear and disappear,
Mocking mirages that quicken the eye with hope.
Magic cities stretch, white-walled, their rampart lengths,
Gay with a thousand fluttering pennons;
Swift, heeling ships on sparkling waters ply,
Each prow a-dazzle with the wind-flung spray;
Broad-limbed trees spread emerald shade
By charmed springs in forest deeps;
Cascades, all silverly gleaming,
O'er-leap some greeny-ferned hillside;
Plains, diapered with verdant flowers, reach afar,
Luring wearied feet to tread imagination's way,—
Empty visions of an empty land
Born of a brain whose nucleus is fire.
by Arthur Crew Inman
All about Sunset Poem
Royal blue sky scattered sapphire clouds
On horizon embroidered in navy blue attire
Summoned by the onset of marigold sun
Emitting amber gold on tuscan yellow fire
Where tapestry of fluffy lavender floats
Decorating patterns of designs periwinkle
Mosaic of colors then spray-paint the water
Spreading a layer of golden yellow cover
Shimmering gold dust on twilight ripples
Abutting brushstrokes of dark blue egyptian
I saw you briefly where first time we met
On the lonely bridge that extends into bay
But as the dark landmass peeked its head
And the lifeless vegetation glinted despair
The tangerine breeze announced your exit
Quivering our aura beneath glittering riffle
Copyright © Vijay Pandit
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