Annabelle Barley

We drove to Zebulon today for a little visit with Annabelle and her family.

She's not quite ready to come home with us yet - but, soon!

In the meantime, enjoy a few pictures of her, her siblings and the rest of the family.

We Love Love Love

Judy Bolin and Carlins Kennels

Looking for beauty

One of the chapters in Will Schwalbe's "Books for Living," is A Journey Around My Room. 

Mr. Schwalbe tells us about Lin Yutang, who he talks about a great deal, and his theories about "false travel." 

It's interesting. 

I did not agree with all of Lin Yutang's thoughts and feelings, but it was interesting reading. (I have some serious issues with anyone who thinks taking pictures inhibits one's ability to actually see and feel the travel experience. While it may inhibit some people's ability, I will argue to the death that it will inhibit everyone. Another topic for another day). 

Lin Yutang was a fan of a book written in 1790 by a French officer, Xavier de Maistre, sentenced to house arrest. 

During this period, Mr. de Maistre wrote "A Journey Around My Room" in which he visited with his belongings. 

I mentioned at Facebook yesterday how I felt the need for a little beauty in my life after listening to all the political nastiness. And I decided to take my own journey about our home. 

I visited with the artwork that covers our walls. 

Picked up bits and nibs of this and that - pieces of pottery, glassware, seashells, etc. that are crowding the tabletops and shelves. 

I pulled out a few much loved books just to reacquaint myself with why a certain book lives here.

I'm able to recall for almost every single thing in this house where it came from and why (I am puzzled, I admit, as to where the plastic Woody from Toy Store came from and why he's living here, but hey, he seems happy, so here he'll stay). 

The memories are often much more than the object. 

And they are, to us, beautiful. 

It's often said that homes are a reflection of the occupants. 

I believe this. 

And I believe that's as it should be. 

The fact that our little house is a jumble of mismatched stuff to the point of overflow probably speaks loudly (oftentimes too loudly) to our friends and family who come visit. 

I'm sure it's not a decorating style many would find to be the right decorating style for them, as there is no real "style" involved. 

But it was the perfect amount of beauty that my soul was in need of yesterday. 

This little nest of ours will be a refuge for the next four years. 

I'm thankful to have it. 

We will continue feathering it with bits and nibs and each of those small things will help block the ugliness while still allowing the light to shine through. 

We find our own beauty, don't we?

Barack Obama

photo from Michelle Obama's Facebook page

8 years. 

No scandals. 

No mistresses. 

No impeachment hearings. 

Just class and grace, personified.

Feeling the need for some beauty in my life after these last several hours. Recent reports and allegations of political events have me feeling as though I'm in need of a bath to help wash away the filth. No shower jokes necessary - we've done those. And I laughed as hard as anyone. Now? Now I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to manage to live with this much anger. HOW did we go from the grace of the Obama family to the disgrace of what's to follow?

click here for the full text and video of President Obama's Farewell Address (courtesy of The New York Times)

"Oh, Kaye!"

Hi, all!

I'm at Jungle Red today and I'm chatting about  . . . 




books!



Do drop by and say "Hey!"


http://www.jungleredwriters.com/

First Snow

The snow
began here
this morning and all day
continued, its white
rhetoric everywhere
calling us back to why, how,
whence such beauty and what
the meaning; such
an oracular fever! flowing
past windows, an energy it seemed
would never ebb, never settle
less than lovely! and only now,
deep into night,
it has finally ended.
The silence
is immense,
and the heavens still hold
a million candles, nowhere
the familiar things:
stars, the moon,
the darkness we expect
and nightly turn from. Trees
glitter like castles
of ribbons, the broad fields
smolder with light, a passing
creekbed lies
heaped with shining hills;
and though the questions
that have assailed us all day
remain — not a single
answer has been found –
walking out now
into the silence and the light
under the trees,
and through the fields,
feels like one.

–Mary Oliver ©

Meet Annabelle

There will never be another Harley


Harley was one of a kind, and he will always own a huge piece of our hearts.


But I don't think Harley would have wanted us to be as sad as we've been for very long, and not having a little bundle of fur with a huge heart has been very hard for us.


After much talk and many tears we started contacting some Corgi breeders and have met some of THE nicest people you could ever hope to find.


Judy Bolin of Carlins Kennels got in touch when she heard we were looking, and she sent this picture of a little 5 week old Corgi.

Now tell me.

WHO could resist this face??

Donald and I drove to Zebulon this morning to meet Judy and this furry little sweetheart.

She stole our hearts, of course.

And I think she kinda liked us too.

So.

Annabelle Barley will be coming home to Boone in early February.

I wish she could have met Harley - she would have loved him to pieces.

It might have taken Harley a little while to fall head over heels for Annabelle, but I think she could have won him over.  

And I think Harley will be wishing us all well.

And, if Annabelle enjoys the camera even half as much as Harley did, well, be prepared to see lots and lots of pictures.

Here's a few from today's little get together.

New Year Poem by May Sarton

Let us step outside for a moment
As the sun breaks through clouds
And shines on wet new fallen snow,
And breathe the new air.
So much has died that had to die this year.

We are dying away from things.
It is a necessity—we have to do it
Or we shall be buried under the magazines,
The too many clothes, the too much food.
We have dragged it all around
Like dung beetles
Who drag piles of dung
Behind them on which to feed,
In which to lay their eggs.

Let us step outside for a moment
Among ocean, clouds, a white field,
Islands floating in the distance.
They have always been there.
But we have not been there.

We are going to drive slowly
And see the small poor farms,
The lovely shapes of leafless trees
Their shadows blue on the snow.
We are going to learn the sharp edge
Of perception after a day’s fast.

There is nothing to fear.
About this revolution…
Though it will change our minds.
Aggression, violence, machismo
Are fading from us
Like old photographs
Faintly ridiculous
(Did a man actually step like a goose
To instill fear?
Does a boy have to kill
To become a man?)

Already there are signs.
Young people plant gardens.
Fathers change their babies’ diapers
And are learning to cook.

Let us step outside for a moment.
It is all there
Only we have been slow to arrive
At a way of seeing it.
Unless the gentle inherit the earth
There will be no earth.