Easter

Easter
Lily in Autumn

Tigress by Ellen Tsagaris

Tigress by Ellen Tsagaris
This is a story of Jack the Ripper with at Twist!

Ellen Tsagaris' The Bathory Chronicles; Vol. I Defiled is My Name

Ellen Tsagaris' The Bathory Chronicles; Vol. I Defiled is My Name
This is the first of a trilogy retelling the true story of the infamous countess as a youn adult novel. History is not always what it seems.

Wild Horse Runs Free

Wild Horse Runs Free
A Historical Novel by Ellen Tsagaris

With Love From Tin Lizzie

With Love From Tin Lizzie
Metal Heads, Metal Dolls, Mechanical Dolls and Automatons

Google+ Followers

The Legend of Tugfest

The Legend of Tugfest
Dr. E is the Editor and A Contributor; proceeds to aid the Buffalo Bill Museum

Emma

Emma

Like My Spider

Like My Spider
It's Halloween!

Moth

Moth
Our Friend

Little Girl with Doll

Little Girl with Doll
16th C. Doll

A Jury of her Peeps

A Jury of her Peeps
"Peep Show" shadow box

Crowded Conditions

Crowded Conditions

Follow by Email

Opie Cat's Ancestors

Opie Cat's Ancestors
Current Cat still Sleeps on Victorian Doll Bed with Dolls!

First Thanksgiving Dinner

First Thanksgiving Dinner
Included goose and swan on the menu!

Autumn Still Life

Autumn Still Life
public domain

Boadicea

Boadicea
The Original Bodacious Woman

Angel Monument

Angel Monument

Popular Posts

Total Pageviews

Gadget

This content is not yet available over encrypted connections.

Kiowa Doll

Kiowa Doll

Sketch of children playing

Sketch of children playing
Courtesy, British Museum

Gadget

This content is not yet available over encrypted connections.

Small Dolls, Clay and Cloth

Small Dolls, Clay and Cloth

A Goddess

A Goddess

Labels

  • I (1)

Search This Blog

Pages

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Relief

Well, two weeks and $400 later I am once again feeling much better; how clear everything looks after a good night's sleep and minimal pain. I think stress and allergies are what are going to kill us, at least most of us. Maybe we should step up our efforts in med research to cure them. It has been a trying couple of weeks, peppered with good things like our fantastically successful launch for The Legend of Tugfest, some great antiquing, blissful weather, good friends, and time to spend with family. There were lucky days where I found a dollar in tne middle of nowhere, or heard from an old friend, and devastating days, where a friend chose to end his life, though he was very young, and another decided not to speak to me because his misguided professional ambitions and personal greed overtook his feelings for me and his friends. Oh well. Some of us will grow up. It is also a much smaller world than we think, and I discover this everyday. We are all related in some way, both good and bad. Our local grocery is now carrying black petunias. Black flowers are "in," and I plan to plant a few more pots. The moles and vholes seem to be leaving us alone, though I pretty much came face to face with a raccon the other night. Am still looking for new ideas for water sustainability and concerving our oceans and rivers. Would love to hear of any books or materials. I'm also into nature writers these days, and would be happy to take book recommendations. I'm am involved once again in the local bookfairs and will try to sell books at several bookstores. My goal is go get my name out there as a writer/poet, and I am getting some place and am very greatful to 918Studio, Rivertown Creative and MWWC. In some ways, I probably owe them my life and well-being. Happy planting, and here is a poem in honor of my late friend S, a marathoner, and of his sister-in-law, who as it turns out, I've known for quite some time. To an Athlete Dying Young The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. To-day, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town. Smart lad, to slip betimes away From fields where glory does not stay And early though the laurel grows It withers quicker than the rose. Eyes the shady night has shut Cannot see the record cut, And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears: Now you will not swell the rout Of lads that wore their honours out, Runners whom renown outran And the name died before the man. So set, before its echoes fade, The fleet foot on the sill of shade, And hold to the low lintel up The still-defended challenge-cup. And round that early-laurelled head Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead, And find unwithered on its curls The garland briefer than a girl's. Alfred Edward Housman

No comments:

Post a Comment