The Little Home

by Edgar Guest

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Image: Pexels  — Pixabay

The little house is not too small
to shelter friends who come to call.
Though low the roof and small its space
it holds the Lord’s abounding grace
and every simple room may be
endowed with happy memory.

The little house, severely plain,
a wealth of beauty may contain.
Within it those who dwell may find
high faith which makes for peace of mind
and that sweet understanding which
can make the poorest cottage rich.

The little house can hold all things
from which the soul’s contentment springs.
It’s not too small for love to grow,
for all the joys that mortals know,
for mirth and song and that delight
which makes the humblest dwelling bright.

From the book, Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest,
©1934 by the Reilly & Lee Co

 

Gliding Off

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is GLIDE
Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC) is IDYLLIC
Your Word of the Day this morning is EXCURSION

What waits for me? Who knows?
Beyond the rippling tide:
adventures – or a lazy day
of watching seabirds glide.

A siren call across the swell
pulls me from my chair.
Away to sea, my boat and me,
with hope of havens fair!

Idyllic isles or rolling seas,
excursions o’er the foam;
I’ll spend this month meandering
intriguing paths to roam.

Methinks the month will fly…
I’ll pass through sun and rain.
I shall return when “dog days” burn
and dock my boat again.

🙂

No, I’m not really gliding off into the rolling sea, but I am taking a holiday from blogging in the month of July. I’ll continue my Ragtag Daily Prompt duties Sunday evenings and I intend to keep posting interesting words & meanings on my Word Buds site but otherwise, you won’t see me here very much before August 2.

H--Closed July

Slow Down, Oh Speeding Clock!

It’s almost suppertime here on the prairie. The day has hastened on, as days seem to. It’s Saturday and the municipal landfill (aka “dump”) was open, so we filled our car with garbage & recycling and hauled it all to the dump. Every farm and acreage must look after their own out here in the country.

I rode along with Bob just for the fun of it. 😉 The weather today has been intermittently sunny and overcast; as we drove the maybe-sixteen miles there and back I observed the sky full of lumpy clouds that seemed to bumble along. They have passed on and the sun came out.

Right now my half of our office looks rather shambolic — a new word I picked up over at Merriam-Webster. As you can guess, it comes from shambles and means “a great confusion or mess.” In reparation for hauling recycling to the dump, and just on the general principle of getting rid of clutter, my husband (a bookkeeper) went through a bunch of old records yesterday and piled them at my corner, next to the shredder. Last night and this morning I was shredding and filling garbage bags with paper recycling — to be made into who knows what? I got half done; the rest awaits my attention.

But back to the title of this post and the incident that sparked it. Have you noticed that the days, weeks, months go by WAY too fast. I decided a few days ago to just make my morning coffee instant. I checked the date, as I do once every blue moon, I discovered that the almost full jar of instant coffee, which I bought about six months ago, expired Feb 1st, 2019. When six months turns into a year and a half, is that not proof that time goes by WAY too fast?

Speaking of blue moons, and other heavenly times, are you planning to watch the solar eclipse on Sunday?

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning was CLOISTERED, which comes from cloister, a religious enclave, a place or state of seclusion, which comes from the Latin root verb, “to close.” Since I rarely make tea for myself, I’ve cloistered a number of misc. assorted teas up in a top cupboard. Waiting there for me to get the notion for a cup of tea, the leaves are likely returning to the dust from whence they came.

However, my jar of instant coffee is in the main traffic area, right by the cocoa mix and peanut butter. How could I have neglected it so long? Not to be wasteful, I’m now drinking a lot of instant coffee. After all, those grounds are good forever — or at least another six months.

I have to admit, though, that apart from the swift flight of time, my problems are small ones — for which I’m very thankful. I had a blood test last week Monday followed by a phone consultation with my oncologist on Thursday, and she says my blood counts are all perfect: she can’t see from my blood-work that I ever had leukemia. And that’s something to rejoice about!

So I’ll close with this little poem:

We thank Thee, Father, for the care
that did not come to try us,
the burden that we did not bear,
the trouble that passed by us,
the task we did not fail to do,
the hurt we did not cherish,
the friend who did not prove untrue,
the joy that did not perish.

We thank Thee for the blinding storm
that did not lose its swelling
and for the sudden blight of harm
that came not nigh our dwelling.
We thank thee for the dart un-sped,
the bitter word unspoken,
the grave unmade, the tear unshed,
the heart-tie still unbroken.

The Siesta and the Flea

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is SIESTA

And my response shall be this humorous verse:

The Siesta & The Flea

Basking by the sea,
an hour of serenity
a siesta snooze for me
until a wandering flea
hops up on my knee.

Since he’s just a Spanish flea
él no lo entiende me
when I order him to leave:
Dejalo, beat it, flee!
But he seems to fancy my knee.
Not.
Swat.

Oh, Nature, please forgive
this may seem vindictive
but no pest’s gonna live
anywhere near me.
Amigable though he be,
he is still a Spanish flea.

🙂

I wrote this with some help from the Spanish translation program at Lexico.
Hope there aren’t glaring linguistic errors.

Friday Fragments

Hello Everyone,

Thanks to someone who just subscribed today, I now 2777 followers — rather an interesting number I think. I’d like to say thank you to every one of you who have taken the time to read my posts, to leave comments, and especially to follow this blog.

I’m going to be otherwise occupied with things around the home and yard for a few days, but thought I would dig into my DropBox files and share a number of verses with you this weekend. They may be haiku, free verse, or mini-poems — ones I’ve written and a few from other poets. I hope you’ll enjoy them.

Here’s one I wrote a few years back, and touched up a bit now:

Blazing peach and gold sunset
coddled by purple grey clouds
that seem to hold it back for us
to admire just a moment longer.

For awhile its glow delights us
but too soon, drawn beyond,
its gold slips into the treasury
of uncounted yesterdays.

Sunset.David Mark
Image by David Mark at Pixabay