Photo by David Godlis via Craveonline.com – Take a trip back in Time to Miami Beach, 1974
Saturday Morning
July 15, 2017 by 13 Comments
Saturday
June 10, 2017 by 17 Comments
Saturday Morning
May 13, 2017 by 17 Comments
Happy in the morning
I open my cottage door;
A clear breeze blowing
Comes straight in.
The first sun
Lights the leafy trees;
The shadows it casts
Are crystal clear.
Serene,
In accord with my heart,
Everything merges
In one harmony …
~ Wen Siang (1210-1280), From Sleepless Nights: Verses for the Wakeful
Notes: Poem – Bluebird of Happiness Stuff. Photo: via Hidden Sanctuary
Saturday Morning
April 29, 2017 by 15 Comments
But this morning, a kind day has descended, from nowhere,
and making coffee in the usual day, measuring grounds
with the wooden spoon, I remembered,
this is how things happen, cup by cup, familiar gesture
after gesture, what else can we know of safety
or of fruitfulness?
– Marie Howe, excerpt from “From Nowhere” in The Good Thief: Poems
Notes: Poem Source: via violentwavesofemotion. Photo: Cup Tasting by Jürg Balsiger
Sunday Morning
April 23, 2017 by 16 Comments
There are mornings when the dog is smushed between us.
The sun breaks through the blinds with rays that warm our blanket tangled bodies.
Silent breathy snores, and the low mumble of a fan.
Picture perfect in my eyes.
Simplistic in others.
Too me?
This is the life.
~ Wandering Girl, “No one can take this from me”
Photo: via Newton
Saturday Morning
April 14, 2017 by 21 Comments
it is…quiet…morning
warm sunlight and cool,
crisp air streams through my open window.
my room is heavy with the smell
of flowers, vines, grass, and growth.
the only sounds are of…
a gentle wind chime,
and my own steady, deep breathing.
~ L. J. Buchanan, from Conceptual solitude
Photo: Heinz-Dieter with morning breeze
Saturday Morning
April 8, 2017 by 22 Comments
In theory, for example, sleep is a negative thing, a mere cessation of life. But nothing will persuade me that sleep is not really quite positive, some mysterious pleasure which is too perfect to be remembered. It must be some drawing on our divine energies, some forgotten refreshment at the ancient fountains of life. If this is not so, why do we cling to sleep when we have already had enough of it; why does waking up always seem like descending from heaven upon earth? I believe that sleep is a sacrament; or, what is the same thing, a food.
— G.K. Chesterton, Lunacy and Letters
Quote: WhiskeyRiver. Art via Mennyfox55
Saturday Morning
April 1, 2017 by 11 Comments
‘When I was a girl,’ she had once told a friend, ‘I was terribly sure trees and flowers were the same as birds or people. That they thought things, and talked among themselves. And we could hear them if we really tried. It was just a matter of emptying your head of all other sounds. Being very quiet and listening very hard. Sometimes I still believe that. But one can never get quiet enough…
~ Truman Capote, In Cold Blood
Photo: skringers.com
Saturday Morning
March 25, 2017 by 18 Comments
I see no pressing reason to get out of bed.
The lights are off
and it is raining
and the covers are the cave I dreamed of when I was a child.
– Barry Hannah, from Ray: A Novel
Notes: Photo: Dormír via Mennyfox55. Quote: Memory’s Landscape
