Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
L'aura del campo 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos' ♣ Federico García Lorca ♣ L'aura del campo. A breeze in the meadow. So it began the last day of Spring, 2005; on the 16th day of the month of Light of the year 162. This is a supplement to my daily journal written to a friend, my muse; notes I do not share. Here I will share what the breeze has whispered to me. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I LV COMMENTS! On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links: These pictures rotate. Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
It was only as we were clearing away the dinner did we work out that Michael had eaten FOUR Yorkshire puddings with his roast chicken. ~ Ann Carter. Yorkshire Pudding It was only as we were clearing away the dinner did we work out that Michael had eaten FOUR Yorkshire puddings with his roast chicken. The cats were fawning over their new hero. He smelled delicious. And those pesky dogs were history. They had also got to nibble on the chicken while he was engrossed with the gravy slithering down his chin onto his not-so-white-anymore shirt. They'd lick that clean later. Earlier that day: ― Honey, What're we having for supper tonight? ― I dunno. You were the one who forgot to go to the store. The Yorkshire puppies were yapping around her ankles. ― And these dogs need feeding... soon. Go see if there's any fresh kill on the road. Alan called his son Michael to help him in the search. They went out with the puppies tripping over each other on the way. ... to be continued ... © Kåre Enga [171.14.06.09a] |