Read In April 2019

Enjoyed two more Picoult books....

and many more of Thomas Perry's!

Jacqueline Winspear is one of my favorite authors.  The American Agent  is #15 in her Maisie Dobbs series.

Say You're Sorry by Karen Rose was over 600 pages and an okay read, but it could have been much shorter, taken less time to read, and still told the story. It's length is one of the reasons I'm not quite finished with....

The Last Bookaneer by Matthew Pearl which started out slow, but is gaining my interest.

One More Before Poetry Month Ends

An April Day

When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.

I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms.
   (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

Violets have always been my favorite early spring flower. They grew in the ditches and yard as well as the woods. I rarely make it to the woods anymore, but I still try to bring in a little bouquet from the yard.

Always have done.

Bluebells for Earth Day

The Bluebell

A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less of power. 
There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell.

Yet I recall not long ago
A bright and sunny day,
'Twas when I led a toilsome life
So many leagues away;

That day along a sunny road
All carelessly I strayed,
Between two banks where smiling flowers
Their varied hues displayed.

Before me rose a lofty hill,
Behind me lay the sea,
My heart was not so heavy then
As it was wont to be.

Less harassed than at other times
I saw the scene was fair,
And spoke and laughed to those around,
As if I knew no care.

But when I looked upon the bank
My wandering glances fell
Upon a little trembling flower,
A single sweet bluebell.

Whence came that rising in my throat,
That dimness in my eye?
Why did those burning drops distil —
Those bitter feelings rise?

O, that lone flower recalled to me
My happy childhood's hours
When bluebells seemed like fairy gifts
A prize among the flowers,

Those sunny days of merriment
When heart and soul were free,
And when I dwelt with kindred hearts
That loved and cared for me.

I had not then mid heartless crowds
To spend a thankless life
In seeking after others' weal
With anxious toil and strife.  

'Sad wanderer, weep those blissful times
That never may return!'
The lovely floweret seemed to say,
And thus it made me mourn.

 By Anne Bronte

The top picture of the bluebells is one I took yesterday at Preston & Shalea's. That whole corner of their yard (behind Deise in this photo of her and Ayden hunting Easter eggs) is full of bluebells. 

There are also many of these purple and white violets, a few of which I dug and brought home to transplant.

I had been waiting for the bluebells I brought from Mom's farm to open to go with this poem, and they are beginning to open, but their color is washed out. Maybe I have them on the wrong side of the house. And maybe, just maybe, I should have dug some starts at Shalea's yesterday and brought home to plant on the other side of our house along with the violets. 😉

Still An April Fool

I became an April Fool for this guy on our very first date.

Unable to resist your charms
And now I wake in your arms
Will you really treat me kind
Is this love, am I blind?

This is so very different
I am not sure how to feel
I find it rather difficult
Not sure if this is real

I guess it will take some time
To trust this hesitant heart of mine
And to listen to the hard lessons
Learned from broken impressions

I stopped living along the way
I realized that when I woke today
And the past is now just history
The now is all that matters to me
   (April Fool by Tia Maria)

Thirty eight years later and I'm still a fool for you.

Remembering a Golfer

Four days after Adam Scott became the first Australian to win the Masters Tournament in Augusta, GA in 2013, our friend Gene died at his home in Tucson. Gene was a huge fan of the game, visiting and playing golf courses when and where he got the opportunity.

Gene's daughter, Jodi, posted this photo of her Dad on Facebook this morning, remembering him on this sixth anniversary of his death. He has a golf club in his hands and is wearing one of his many souvenir golf shirts.

After his death, his wife debated what to do with the golf shirts. One friend suggested using them in a quilt. Another came up with the idea of using just the patches in some bell pulls. And that is what she did.

Kristina had these two with her when she was here last September. The smaller one was for her brother David, the larger one is her's. She also had some made for Gene's children.

It looks like the Overland Golf Course, Big Timber, MT patch in the middle was from the shirt he has on in the top picture.


There were also some of Gene's golf ties incorporated into the designs.

Close-up of Kristina's with some of Gene's favorite golf courses. I like the coral 1991 Ryder Cup Kiawah Island, SC ones at the top, but my favorite has to be the dark blue La Paloma one. (Because of the [paloma] dove.)

I think the bell pulls were an excellent way of using his golf shirt emblems.

Bud, Kristina and Gene the last time we visited them in Tucson nine years ago. Bud and I weren't big time golf watchers then, but since we have become viewing fans. We have become familiar with many of the course names on those bell pulls.

A Windy April Grace

April By Sara Teasdale

The roofs are shining from the rain.
The sparrows tritter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.

Yet the back-yards are bare and brown
With only one unchanging tree --
I could not be so sure of Spring
Save that it sings in me.