Daily things surprise me, and today it is the joy of my five your old girl who loves rocking to Wanda Jackson! Who would've have thought that she would connect to this rockabilly music? It is fantastic to be able to turn off the television, put some music on, and just groove all day whilst doing chores (and as she plays!). Awesome stuff! As you may know, it is quite often a challenge to entertain a child, let alone keep them entertained, therefore, thank you Wanda. You're awesome.
I'm waiting for the clouds to clear so that we can enjoy a bit more of the gorgeous sunshine that is metaphorically clearing the cloudy thoughts from my winter hibernation. I love the smell of the freesias, jasmine, honeysuckle that are blooming this early in the season and their scent permeates the air. My daughter has brought some inside, and we now have the essence of Spring in the home too.
Hopefully today my itch to stitch will be sated. I have many projects on the go, and wish to finish a flannel blanket/throw for my girl's use whilst she snoozes on the sofa of an evening....yes, she does crash on the sofa after a day of hectic playing, in total imitation of her Dad! She's chosen all these fat-quarter flannels that we found on sale many moons ago, and has helped me assemble them in a certain haphazard order. I'll post pictures once it's done
.
With Spring on our doorstep, I am inspired by Walt Whitman's poetry and have once again pulled a volume of his verse from my shelf to peruse when I have the chance. The chance can be when I have my cuppa in the morning, as it was this day, whilst the kids ate their breakfast. How's this one?:
Miracles
By Walt Whitman from Leaves of Grass
Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge
of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at
night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer
forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining
so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in
spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread
with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim--the rocks--the motion of the
waves--the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?
Whitman has encapsulated all that he sees as beautiful and indeed a miracle: the everyday, the everything, the life in the miniscule and the grandeur of it all. That's what I love about this poem.This poem says it all about how I feel about life in general and is the purpose of this blogspot. Even in moments of bleakness and sadness, I try to remember that life is full of daily miracles and I am surrounded by love and beauty.
So enough of sharing my thoughts; now for some stitching time (hopefully, if the kids will let me!).
Enjoy!
