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Showing posts from October, 2015

Uncloistered

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  “She gazed ahead through a long reach of future days strung together like pearls in a rosary, every one like the others, and all smooth and flawless and innocent, and her heart went up in thankfulness. Outside was the fervid summer afternoon; the air was filled with the sounds of the busy harvest of men and birds and bees; there were halloos, metallic clatterings, sweet calls, and long hummings. Louisa sat, prayerfully numbering her days, like an uncloistered nun.” A New England Nun By Mary E. Wilkins Freeman (1852–1930)

Zefrank's Guide to Candy Trading

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It's all in good fun.

Reader, Consider

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Photoblog: File Your Negatives

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in the back of the book--right where it belongs!

Photoblog: A Few Of My Favorite Things

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"Overheard on a Salmarsh" by Harold Monro

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads? Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them? Give them me.         No. Give them me. Give them me.                 No. Then I will howl all night in the reeds, Lie in the mud and howl for them. Goblin, why do you love them so? They are better than stars or water, Better than voices of winds that sing, Better than any man's fair daughter, Your green glass beads on a silver ring. Hush, I stole them out of the moon. Give me your beads, I want them.                 No. I will howl in the deep lagoon For your green glass beads, I love them so. Give them me. Give them.               No.

Photoblog

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who knows what this is?