Tag Archive | Life

#TenderTuesday . . .Radiate boundless love…




” Radiate boundless love towards the entire world.”

~ Buddha











Text & image source: Marianne Gillis https://www.facebook.com/marianne.gillis.773

New Week Inspiration ❤️ ☀ . . . . New Every Morning






New Every Morning

Every day is a fresh beginning,
Listen my soul to the glad refrain.
And, spite of old sorrows
And older sinning,
Troubles forecasted
And possible pain,
Take heart with the day and begin again.

~ Susan Coolidge.










Artist Bettina Baldassarri
Text & image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://www.facebook.com/Snowwolfswoodlandnook/











#FridayFantasy . . . Turquoise, the magical birthstone of December






If cold December gave you birth—
The month of snow, and ice, and mirth—
Place on your hand a turquoise blue,
Success will bless whate’er you do.

~Author unknown, “A Gem for Every Month,” c.1883












Artist Angela R. Sasser
Text & image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://www.facebook.com/Snowwolfswoodlandnook/











#PoeticThursday . . . . A Little Wren in Winter




A Little Wren in Winter

She flits among the holly leaves,
a tiny dappled short-winged wren;
she sings with joy above the eaves,
announcing hope throughout the glen.

Her songs now tell of longer days,
of glistening snow and evenings,
replete with vibrant trills that raise
a zest for feasts and frolickings.

While winter’s razor teeth can bite
frail birds aloft in freezing zones,
bel canto saves the wren tonight;
her chest beats warm as she intones…

refrains that ring of golden skies,
of warmth that balmy springtime brings.
A little wren in winter flies
among the holly leaves and sings.

By Barbara Gaye Wood.










Artist Mike Stinnett
Text & image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://www.facebook.com/Snowwolfswoodlandnook/











#TenderTuesday . . . Mystical magical misty eve




Mystical magical misty eve
Like a veil of protection we all sometimes need
Thoughts of times long ago
Hands holding warm glow
Winter’s night often bring
Memories of cosy nights at home
Sat with love ones fire bright
Talking laughing into the night
Hot chocolate mince pies
Warmth flickering before our eyes
Shapes appearing as the fire builds
Wondering, playing games, naming the shapes
Sleepy contented complete
Magical Mystical Winter’s Eve.

~ Shalimar










Artist Danny Abraham
Text & image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://www.facebook.com/Snowwolfswoodlandnook/











December!




A Calendar Of Sonnets – December

The lakes of ice gleam bluer than the lakes
Of water ‘neath the summer sunshine gleamed:
Far fairer than when placidly it streamed,
The brook its frozen architecture makes,
And under bridges white its swift way takes.
Snow comes and goes as messenger who dreamed
Might linger on the road; or one who deemed
His message hostile gently for their sakes
Who listened might reveal it by degrees.
We gird against the cold of winter wind
Our loins now with mighty bands of sleep,
In longest, darkest nights take rest and ease,
And every shortening day, as shadows creep
O’er the brief noontide, fresh surprises find.

Helen Hunt Jackson












Artist Jo Grundy
Text & image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://www.facebook.com/Snowwolfswoodlandnook/











Grandma’s Sewing Box!






Spools of thread and needles
Slipper cushions filled with pins
Some tipped with colored beads.
Grandma’s sewing box was filled
with everything she seemed to need.

She would sit and darn Grandpa’s stockings
Or maybe sew a button on a shirt or two.
She always seemed to know what color of thread to use
She always knew just what to do.

She would place a thimble on her finger
And with needle strung of colored thread.
She would push the needle very carefully in
What ever had needed, Grandma’s special mend.

I would rummage through Grandma’s sewing box
It was like a treasure chest she saved for me.
She would let me play with all the colored buttons
And tried to show me how to needle point
A butterfly and bunny scene.

She would take my little fingers
And thread my needle with thin pastel yarn.
I will always remember my Grandma’s sewing box
And the times, I would visit her on the farm.

Linda Winchell.










Artist unknown
Text & image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://www.facebook.com/Snowwolfswoodlandnook/









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