Bambi on the farm!

Here is one of the baby deers we raised on the farm back in the 90's. She was only 2-3 days old when she was rescued after her mother was killed on the road. Kept her in a box by my bed at first and had to get up every couple of hours to feed her with a bottle! She got big enough that we let her out during the day to run and then brought her in on the back porch at night. She didn't return one day. I like to think she is still in the woods waiting for me!!

Spring in the woods!

These are pictures I took in our woods in Illinois in the spring. I am starting my countdown to April when I go home. Spring in the woods... My favorite time of year; my favorite place to be. I am getting so homesick for family, but also for these woods and the peacefulness I find there!

And mushroom hunting!

Searching for the elusive yellow morel mushroom!

The peacefulness in the woods; listening to the birds singing, the squirrels chattering, the creek meandering by...it doesn't get any better than that!

Sharing Poetry!

Water-colour by Karin Boye

In the book "Astrid & Veronika" by Linda Olsson, information was provided for the poetry excerpts used in her book. After searching I found most were written in Swedish, but the following poems by Karin Boye were translated into English by David McDuff. I really enjoyed them and wanted to share with you!

Poet and Artist: Karin Boye
Book: "Karin Boye: Complete Poems"
Translated by: David McDuff
Link to Karin Boye Society provided above


MORNING
When the morning's sun steals
through the window-pane,
happy and cautious,
like a child who wants to surprise
early, early on a festive day -
then I stretch full of growing exultation
my open arms to the coming day -
for the day is you,
and the light is you,
the sun is you,
and the spring is you,
and all of beautiful, beautiful
waiting life is you!

SMALL THINGS
If you cannot manage one step more,
cannot lift your head,
if you are sinking wearily under hopeless greyness -
then be thankful for the kind, small things,
consoling, childish.
You have an apple in your pocket,
a book of stories there at home -
small, small things, despised
at the time, that radiated living
but gentle footholds during the dead hours.

IF THIS LIFE IS THE ONLY ONE...
If this life is the only one...!
Oh, these short hours...
An hour - how much an hour can become!
Those deep springs where no one yet has drunk,
the light-expanses no one yet has fathomed,
And we, we dully doze in cowardice.
Oh, these short hours...
O world of hidden possibilities,
O God in the becoming,
give us an undaunted piety,
a pure will,
and initiate us to the adventure of the spirit!