It Is Not Enough To Be Busy. So Are The Ants. The Question Is: What Are We Busy About? Henry David ThoreauWords

It is not enough to be busy. So are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about? Henry David Thoreau Words to contemplate, Mr. Thoreau…..to be peculiarly specific, I was busy about pondering the way the ant hills in the pavement look like some strange colony on a foreign planet, the textural contrasts are just too cool….this now concludes “Morning Musings Before Coffee”, you may all return to your regularly scheduled lives ;-)….I’ll just be over here making my coffee…given the way my mind was waxing all sci-fi poetic, a rather good idea, don’t you think? Lol. Bon Mardi, mes amis!

How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold. William Wordsworth. Found these lovely wee volunteers along our garden path this morning…..may you know the freedom to plant yourself where He knows you’ll bloom the brightest, and in that freedom know the boldness to trust & make it happen…..because THAT, beholding that, is a thing of beauty…..Bon Mercredi, mes amis!

“Even in the smallest and humblest garden, a sturdy hydrangea at once proclaims the place as the abode of a real gardener rather than a mere purchaser of plants to cover the landscape.” —Washington Park Arboretum Bulletin, 2006. Okay, I’m not a gardener, I just appreciate those that do:-) & the growers that supply the lovely blooms I work with. Thank you! The creamy white hydrangeas I was working with the other day were so luscious, they deserved a close up…..Bon Lundi, mes amis!

Metamorphosis has always been the greatest symbol of change for poets and artists. Imagine that you could be a caterpillar one moment and a butterfly the next. Louie Schwartzberg This is Felix. He had the unfortunate distinction of hitching a ride on some greenery I harvested from our garden for a flower arrangement. So we left him on a sprig of greenery & put him in a jar whilst I finished said arrangement, so that he wouldn’t go exploring and get into mischief before we could release him back into the garden. Apparently, Felix was hungry. And being the lovely wee fellow that he is, ate the leaf in such a way as, to the kids’ estimation, a)thank us for not squishing him & b) remind us to keep our hearts open to whatever or whomever He has for us….be open to the adventure. You’re welcome, Felix, though we wouldn’t have squished you anyway, and thank you for your silently artistic reminder….my heart is open, let the adventure continue ;-)……Bon Lundi, mes amis!

There are as many ways of loving as there are people, and that wildflower variety is the great beauty of this dimension of existence. Jalaluddin Rumi. Reveling in the love of dear friends & family….everyone shows love so many different ways, they fill in all those wee cracks….thank you!! Yep, back to waxing poetic today, lol……Bon Dimanche, mes amis!

The rough burr-thistle, spreading wide Amang the bearded bear, I turn’d the weeder-clips aside, An’ spar’d the symbol dear: No nation, no station, My envy e’er could raise; A Scot still, but blot still, I knew nae higher praise. -Robert Burns from Epistle to Mrs. Scott of Wauchope House. Aye, Mr Burns, the thistle is quite the thing of beauty…..hoping your day is full of beauty as well…..Joyeux Vendredi, mes amis!