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A Library Visit//Cleveland Public Library
When we decided to move away from Ohio, we compiled a list of places we had never gotten around to visiting and favorite places we wanted to revisit. One place I had always intended to see was the Cleveland Public Library. I was regularly told what an amazing library it is and how beautiful it is. I was in Cleveland regularly for the volunteer work I do, and yet, somehow, I had never made it to the library. I remedied that on my last trip to Cleveland. Nothing is too far from Lake Erie in Cleveland and that is true of the library. Look at the beautiful views out the…
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On The Other Side
Well. I live in Pennsylvania now. It has been several months of decisions, chaos, boxes (so many boxes), and maybe a few tears. Have I mentioned I hate moving? Every single time, I insist I am never moving again. And yet, every single time I find myself packing up all our possessions and relocating. We don’t seem to believe in moving locally; we only do long-distance moves. I do see one more move in my future since we are renting a townhouse now and will eventually want to buy a house if the market ever cooperates. However, I am hoping we can make that a local move. We shall see.…
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A Poem for a Thursday #329
I have featured William Stafford’s poetry a number of times before. I enjoy his conversational style and his focus on nature and the everyday beauty of things around us. I think this poem is beautiful. Just lying on the couch and being happy.Only humming a little, the quiet sound in the head.Trouble is busy elsewhere at the moment, it hasso much to do in the world.People who might judge are mostly asleep; they can'tmonitor you all the time, and sometimes they forget.When dawn flows over the hedge you canget up and act busy.Little corners like this, pieces of Heavenleft lying around, can be picked up and saved.People won't even see…
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A Poem for a Thursday #328
Marjorie Pickthall was born in England in 1883. She lived there until her family moved to Toronto when she was six. Pickthall started to write poems and short stories as a child and sold her first story to the Toronto Globe when she was fifteen. She went on to publish a number of melodramatic adventure novels, and a volume of poetry was published after her death. She died at the age of thirty-eight. Her poems are currently viewed as gentle, refined, and dated. I did enjoy this poem about daisies. It does come across as very old-fashioned but I am fine with that. See, the grass is full of stars,Fallen…
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Trinket Tuesday
First of all, I am fully aware that today is not Tuesday. However, I have been meaning to tell you about Trinket Tuesday for weeks now. Yesterday was my last Trinket Tuesday so now seems to be a good time to finally write this post. I am sure you are thinking to yourself, “What is Trinket Tuesday?” (You are also probably wondering how many times I can use the phrase “Trinket Tuesday” in one post. The answer is I will use it so often it will soon lose all meaning and simply become an annoying sound that rings in your head forever.) Trinket Tuesday sprang into being one slow week…
