Blooming

Spring jumped out of nowhere and came on full force this past week. It smells heavenly on the farm; the lilacs and cherry blossoms are in full bloom. The tulips are up. My bleeding hearts and lilies of the valley all have flowers on them.

Expectant mothers are around every corner. The birds have built their nests and are sitting on their eggs. The geese at the pond have an egg they are eagerly waiting to see hatch. Baby bunnies and baby mice have been seen scampering around.

Even the young snakes have been seen.

Yep, spring is here...now I'd just wish the weather would realize it! I have another frost alert tonight, so I'm covering plants and wearing a sweater!

But I'm trying to appreciate this cooler weather because before too long its going to be hot and I'll be longing for the cool temps of April.

Beauty

I've decided I want to showcase how wonderful my sister is with words.  She paints a picture with her words.  And when I ran across another one of her poems I had to post it. I can't help but be proud of her!

 

Her inspiration for Beauty was a single pink rose.

 

 

Beauty

Pretty is a small word

Describing how I look.

It’s something like a photo

A picture in a book.

There’s so much more to me

Than what the eyes perceive.

It’s not about my face,

But more what I believe.

So when the wind begins to whip

And the freeze comes with the rain

When the temperatures all drop

And cold sings its refrain

You’ll find me standing tall

An inner strength will show.

I don’t easily wilt

I will always grow.

 

By: Casey Barnett

 

 

A Misty Road

A Misty Road

 

My stride pounded the road,

Never breaking pace.

Tiny clouds of dust I never saw

Created patterns of intricate lace.

The flora and the fauna

I know were in my sight,

But I hardly notice them

Along my daily flight.

Then one day the trees

Screamed from up above,

“Don’t forget to say hello

As you walk along our cove.

We strive each day to keep you

Safe from sun and rain.

We always give you music,

A rustling refrain.

Please don’t forget to say hello,

We love to hear your voice,

And don’t forget to smell the roses,

And each and every day rejoice.”

Now many think I didn’t

Hear the trees that day,

But they’ve forgotten what it’s like

To watch the flowers play.

Dancing along the wind,

Resting on the breeze,

As the mist weaves through the leaves

Of those wise old trees.

I’ll not forget the lesson learned

Along that familiar road.

The fog had cleared and I can see

More of my own abode.

 

-Casey M. Barnett
 

 

 

This poem is written by my sister from a photo that I took one misty morning driving to work in Kentucky.  (I tried to upload the photo but the computer and I are having a disagreement.  I will upload once we have worked it out.)