tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73455050843857907252023-07-18T23:45:21.617-07:00A Banner of CrimsonAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17416688929079190293noreply@blogger.comBlogger145125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-40128327288394822992014-08-20T19:09:00.001-07:002014-08-20T19:57:37.048-07:00The Goodness of GriefTonight the sky is like a pink sea, a dusky blue wrapped in a single, endless cloud the velvet color of a blushing peach. As is usual when inspiration strikes me, I am alone, on my apartment balcony, cradling coffee to soothe the dull ache in my temples, my bible on my knees. The silence, outdoors, is less deafening, more embracing.<br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Perhaps, rather than inspiration, it is desperation that prods me to write, to push the weight of words off my chest.</span></i><br />
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I am weary of being weary. I long for courage. I long to be wrapped in the lion-heart of my Savior, to be comforted as only He can comfort. I have sought that comfort in the world around me, people and places and things, but have returned still thirsty and desperate.<br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Because the comfort I long for cannot be manmade</span>.</i> The depth of warmth and peace my soul aches for, scratches at my insides for, is too vast to come from anyone but an infinite God.<br />
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It doesn't go away, this ache. I am more aware of it than I have ever been. I cannot escape it. Even wrapped in worship music and scripture, the ache finds me whenever I am alone; it comes crawling after me, pushing the ball of salt water, that I refuse to acknowledge, up and out, through my eyes and over my cheeks.<br />
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But here, suddenly, is the incalculable truth. <i>I must face the ache.</i> Hold out my arms and let it wrap me up. Somehow, my soul sees that this ache <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">will give me wings</span></i>. The ache pushes up the red staircase of my throat, out into beating song, or through my fingers in red, bleeding words. It hurts, but it hurts less than when it is an empty, unacknowledged weight I carry around in the pit of my stomach.<br />
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This is grief. This is growing up.<br />
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Am I explaining the beauty of this? <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Do you see it?</span></i> The beauty of pain and tears and trial? "Count it all joy" is suddenly completely clear. There is a goodness and a grace in grief that no words can truly paint.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTcEJ2u7WtRO5-J23yHavd8BQd-tynJQcNO_Az_VlGrc8Eqse-2jeGcRr562930OsYmGWcGc0Wlqi-rr7Rdd-Lyx-xfdTahVKOWZ9zuLge6DSHlmbiPy7WTyLHPfCY-3NZwxLz7AU5KfiT/s1600/d26290902ee7bbcbd9f8b130902af1a6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTcEJ2u7WtRO5-J23yHavd8BQd-tynJQcNO_Az_VlGrc8Eqse-2jeGcRr562930OsYmGWcGc0Wlqi-rr7Rdd-Lyx-xfdTahVKOWZ9zuLge6DSHlmbiPy7WTyLHPfCY-3NZwxLz7AU5KfiT/s1600/d26290902ee7bbcbd9f8b130902af1a6.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So please, World, don't give up.</span></i> Don't let fear guide you, fear of pain or sorrow, of loss or betrayal or loneliness.<br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Let this great goodness guide you:</span></i> </div>
that an infinite God made Himself man and died, simply so that we, peasants and slaves, could enter the castle of the King, and sit by the fire, and talk <i>with Him</i>.<br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And be filled.</span></i></div>
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<i>With all my heart,</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Aquiline, serif; font-size: large;">Emma Pearl</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Aquiline, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Note: These images are not mine; they were discovered on that little gem we call Pinterest.</i></span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328158228135690147noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-8557761499426144532013-08-23T21:57:00.004-07:002013-08-23T22:10:50.431-07:00How To Say It<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I'm sitting in the dark of my apartment living-room. </span></i> I don't know what I'm going to say, what words I'm going to put here. I know only that I need to write. I need to write because it's in me, because it's good, and a reminder of all things good, and because my Mom, my sweet Momma, was so supportive of my writing, and so proud. She saw something in me, and she pushed me to pursue it, the push I needed... the push I'm feeling dreadfully alone without.<br>
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I'm so weary of these emotions, these heavy, weighted emotions. But, they're not done with me yet. <br>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Not yet.</span><br>
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It's so difficult to see God's goodness anymore, even though I've seen so much of it, been blessed so strongly by it. Now, in the dark, in the depth of this intolerable loneliness, it's difficult to trust that goodness.<br>
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This is heavy ya'll, and I'm sorry. I don't want to grouch. I want to say sweet, artistic, heart-blessing things. But I have to tell the truth.<br>
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The truth is, life isn't easy. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> Life hurts.</span></i> And I wish it would stop.<br>
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And, yet, deep down, there <i>is </i>goodness. There is, because it was goodness that led me to open my computer, to ease my grief with the pressing of words onto this page, to open the black box of my loneliness, and share.<br>
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Because, dear readers, we must always share. The hurt and the hope, the cold and the warmth, the truth, heavy, hard, and sweet. Bittersweet. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But still sweet.</span><br>
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And all this heaviness, the broken words scattered here, are tokens of the goodness that will never leave us, nor forsake us.<br>
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A goodness I will find again, someday.<br>
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<i>Thanks for listening,</i><br>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Freebooterscript;">Emma Pearl</span></span><br>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="text Isa-11-2" id="en-ESV-17887" style="position: relative;"><br></span></i></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="text Isa-11-2" id="en-ESV-17887" style="position: relative;">And <sup class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: normal; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-17887B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)"></sup>the Spirit of the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> shall rest upon him, </span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Isa-11-2" style="position: relative;">the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, </span></span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Isa-11-2" style="position: relative;">the Spirit of counsel and might, </span></span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Isa-11-2" style="position: relative;">the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>. </span></span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="text Isa-11-3" id="en-ESV-17888" style="position: relative;">And his delight shall be in the fear of the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>. - </span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="text Isa-11-3" id="en-ESV-17888" style="position: relative;">Isaiah 11:2</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="text Isa-11-3" id="en-ESV-17888" style="position: relative;"><sup class="versenum" style="display: block; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; line-height: normal; position: absolute; text-align: right; vertical-align: top;">3 </sup></span></i></span></div>
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Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-41787262324502627262013-07-17T19:45:00.005-07:002013-08-08T21:28:32.478-07:00Home is...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">A </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">place to create.</span></div>
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Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-30483455190061405932012-10-17T14:59:00.000-07:002013-08-09T13:56:32.442-07:00In Praise <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Is it offensive,</span> do you think,<br />
when I gush about my family?<br />
When I smile a secret smile,<br />
remembering my mother,<br />
my father?<br />
I know I am lucky, that so few<br />
men and women<br />
my age<br />
were raised faithfully<br />
from the opening of newborn eyes,<br />
the stretching of red, warm, limbs,<br />
into the realization of firm adulthood.<br />
<br />
There are few of us who recognize<br />
the weakness<br />
of our parents,<br />
the humanity of the men and women<br />
who conceived us<br />
birthed us<br />
loved us,<br />
few who know that<br />
honor,<br />
and respect,<br />
mean blessing that humanity,<br />
blessing those humans,<br />
once warm and new themselves,<br />
for doing their very best,<br />
for heaving shining swords<br />
at the sharp edge of life<br />
that runs toward us,<br />
their children,<br />
for fighting while bleeding because<br />
they would not see<br />
one they love<br />
broken,<br />
wounded,<br />
maimed.<br />
<br />
They are never perfect.<br />
No. So often they are wrong,<br />
so wrong.<br />
Yet, so often they are right<br />
beyond right.<br />
We have not lived<br />
the long and painful years<br />
they have.<br />
How can we argue?<br />
How can we not love the very ground<br />
their youthful feet once walked?<br />
How can we not honor the effort<br />
they made,<br />
to build us and shape us,<br />
bright monuments<br />
to the goodness<br />
that can be found,<br />
that is,<br />
warm and breathing<br />
in the raw imperfection<br />
of the human race?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Qj4aMBGpOUeLSbZTPrP41TrRAKh0MsiE51uIERQt9GTiGI0OLnyLXcqokyfDEOXQ4kNsgA3hSN36ijIgmUTQHjwL11pWkq1GyFiQ6NBWaaqUXstqwsgY5WtAFX48sivwrnhtITsoa0c/s1600/IMG_8930.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Qj4aMBGpOUeLSbZTPrP41TrRAKh0MsiE51uIERQt9GTiGI0OLnyLXcqokyfDEOXQ4kNsgA3hSN36ijIgmUTQHjwL11pWkq1GyFiQ6NBWaaqUXstqwsgY5WtAFX48sivwrnhtITsoa0c/s640/IMG_8930.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Freebooterscript;">Emma Pearl</span></span><br />
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<i>This poem is a little different, less old fashioned in tone, one might say, than my normal writing, my attempt to be poetic in a modernist manner. That, and a bit of a rant, the words that flow when a blessed person like myself, being away from home, misses her family very much. Hope you enjoyed!</i><br />
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Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-49145890175180714412012-07-25T11:30:00.000-07:002012-07-25T11:31:09.359-07:00The Gifts He Gives<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Posting over at <a href="http://www.bluegnus.com/everlypleasant/2012/07/25/the-gifts-he-gives/">Clickety Clack</a> today. Thanks to dear Everly for hosting me. Enjoy!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'freebooter script', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">- Emma Pearl - </span></div>Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-84667525522484756622012-06-24T15:15:00.004-07:002012-06-24T15:15:54.697-07:00I Am A WriterI am a writer.<br />
Though my weariness slides over me,<br />
pushes me to rest,<br />
wraps me warm in sleep,<br />
keeps me<br />
from making music with words,<br />
<br />
I am a writer.<br />
Though my days are wound tight together,<br />
task after task stacked<br />
like dominoes,<br />
<i>things that must be done</i><br />
jammed hard against my head<br />
<br />
I am a writer.<br />
Though I fear I shall never learn to focus,<br />
never learn to sacrifice<br />
for this passion for words,<br />
this hard, aching, desire,<br />
to grab ahold and never let go.<br />
<br />
But I am a writer.<br />
Though words rarely leave my fingertips,<br />
my heart still holds ,<br />
warm, and breathing,<br />
the breath of words,<br />
beating beside my heart.<br />
<br />
I shall never give up,<br />
never give in,<br />
never stop trying,<br />
because, regardless of anything,<br />
my heart knows.<br />
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<i>I am a writer.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'freebooter script', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large; font-style: normal;">- Emma Pearl - </span></i><br />
<br />Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-34508714157906265742012-06-17T21:56:00.001-07:002012-06-17T22:01:58.997-07:00Circles<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">My brother James carves wood, <i>literally. </i> </span><br />
He works the rough grain with knife and chisel and turns a blank slab into something unbelievable.<br />
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<br />
We had dear friends for dinner some evenings ago, shared chili and cornbread, then upside-down plum cake and poetry. Afterwards, the twilight waiting behind the dusk, we walked to the wood shop to see James's latest project.<br />
<br />
He is building a table, a sort of of altar table, for a Methodist worship conference. He designed it himself, a table with two sturdy, yet graceful, legs supporting an expanse of hand scraped surface. The table comes apart, to be assembled and reassembled, and is fastened together with detailed mortar and tendon, a table with no metal, only warm, brown wood. It is as if an ancient carpenter had taken a thick tree from the earth and shaped it with medieval tools and skillful hands. The table is clean, and pure, a masterpiece of careful craftsmanship.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(Below is the completed projected. Pretty stunning, right?)</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div>
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The sun hung low, pressed against the horizon, when we left the building scented with wood. The evening, still but for the clicking of crickets, <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">met us with peace.</span></i><br />
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<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">There is such a goodness in this changing of seasons,</span> this refreshing of old memories, and this chance at new beginnings, this <i>circle that wraps up our lives. </i> The circle brings us back, to where we were, shows us how we've changed, how old things are no more, and awes us with God's faithfulness.<br />
<br />
Here I am, in another summer, watching my little siblings carouse about the yard in the glee of childhood, feeling the weight of new responsibilities, the crowded, unavoidable business of this time of year, yet stilled by the weight of quiet. Summer, with its stifling heat, its long days of labor in a sweltering kitchen, heat cooled by sudden and furious rains, has a stillness to it, a stillness that pulls me from the kitchen, in the quiet of evening, to the sunset in the night air, echoes of childish laughter on the gray night breeze.<br />
<br />
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<br />
And I find, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">in that stillness</span>, a place to pause and press my heart up against my soul, to listen to the beat I know so well, remember my own childhood, my old dreams and old passions. They are still there, under my adult skin, wound tightly, balled up in my throat. <i>Write. </i>They say. <i>Write about everything. Write about life, its goodness, and its grief.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
Adulthood does come. We do move on. But in our moving on, our childhood clings to our quickening feet, clamoring to be remembered, to be carried with us. The seasons, with the warmth of memory, remind us of what we've left behind, carry us full circle, and offer us a moment, like an hour on the round path of a clock face, to start again,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> to remember, and to reflect.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnKN347m9EDrYPm-JjcQJLKYNYResaUKvq8gBWqwL5HWNASWCLSIa5zdIRCpGYMIk6HQ2koVV2tgthqp-tcJ8jl3LYzCiYjFCe8lYOFaiJX7Ua4D4Cs3WM-qH9ysozvhMnBKg1FvU7PgI/s1600/_MG_7061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnKN347m9EDrYPm-JjcQJLKYNYResaUKvq8gBWqwL5HWNASWCLSIa5zdIRCpGYMIk6HQ2koVV2tgthqp-tcJ8jl3LYzCiYjFCe8lYOFaiJX7Ua4D4Cs3WM-qH9ysozvhMnBKg1FvU7PgI/s640/_MG_7061.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">May I offer you a blessing?</span> That this summer, as the heat pushes up against you, and your lives are filled and full, that your heart will come full circle, and our Father's grace, and faithfulness, will awe you and inspire you, and grant you peace.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'freebooter script', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">- Emma Pearl - </span></div>Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-28567011713939303172012-05-30T21:08:00.009-07:002012-05-30T21:13:21.385-07:00How I'm Doing This<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">There are several elements to my writing,</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPUd2X4PbXdGVLamlrd0oXTyPwanLy2arZbGtRT43v_HHLusQ2uB7g6L2whK5_hV2VRGi9o8hcClXj9tTOx8-eC0vwZuEGrfpTfq1G43G5Gp7W0XoCMu1DVDs7rZxqp_A8jcIXEKfkSk/s1600/Lovis-Corinth-A-Reading-Girl_width350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPUd2X4PbXdGVLamlrd0oXTyPwanLy2arZbGtRT43v_HHLusQ2uB7g6L2whK5_hV2VRGi9o8hcClXj9tTOx8-eC0vwZuEGrfpTfq1G43G5Gp7W0XoCMu1DVDs7rZxqp_A8jcIXEKfkSk/s320/Lovis-Corinth-A-Reading-Girl_width350.jpg" width="248" /></a>all of which I love.<br />
<br />
First, there is my novel,<br />
my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">magnum opus</span>,<br />
<i>Wandrian.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
Then there is poetry,<br />
songwriting,<br />
the lyrical magic of words,<br />
my old and new passion.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6SegjVxNY8JfnpeJvA1k0AywgcOCw88WX-UZgSnj43CQActP8vPfW5e3uLj3j7GB3cUUI6vWiGz1bY--XOTtu7euU_mBWAsO18UjVTWcSVdAMcJM2CPJg7MYw5naT1NP98A0FM4BNfBI/s1600/Emma+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6SegjVxNY8JfnpeJvA1k0AywgcOCw88WX-UZgSnj43CQActP8vPfW5e3uLj3j7GB3cUUI6vWiGz1bY--XOTtu7euU_mBWAsO18UjVTWcSVdAMcJM2CPJg7MYw5naT1NP98A0FM4BNfBI/s400/Emma+2.jpg" width="265" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
After these</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
comes blogging,</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
sharing life.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
with you,</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
my dear friends,</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
old and new.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Lastly</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
there are more academic</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
forms of writing</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
articles, essays, and</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
more professional pieces.</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbOeSzo3vCZ1t8TXjbg07Blsm4yeIlVUoZ7GO1ByVghrCHDTBUTh02nXIeKdU9VHef9PA9OhkJ2cQUXiEqkydDouonf2M8RCe9HKLqt5MbJ7I2KeHLnAFrrSiTgdAeeUh5biD2nK44Fyk/s1600/girl+reading+outside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbOeSzo3vCZ1t8TXjbg07Blsm4yeIlVUoZ7GO1ByVghrCHDTBUTh02nXIeKdU9VHef9PA9OhkJ2cQUXiEqkydDouonf2M8RCe9HKLqt5MbJ7I2KeHLnAFrrSiTgdAeeUh5biD2nK44Fyk/s400/girl+reading+outside.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
How to pursue</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
all of these?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here is my plan.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here, daily,</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I shall share a poem.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And, weekly,</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
a picture of my life,</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
my home,</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
my heart,</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
also here.</div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGMnBqyJtc5kCjV0dz1wbnTntaipYB5QBfLQdDcbVwzT69BfScLdMkFgppG5qLiw6Loc1h02BeY69XdYn6Hq4das8H--gPVSeYTWyje44UZF3gOs5SHEz3FGMa9u9A8uiBh3nov0_ed6o/s1600/young-girl-reading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGMnBqyJtc5kCjV0dz1wbnTntaipYB5QBfLQdDcbVwzT69BfScLdMkFgppG5qLiw6Loc1h02BeY69XdYn6Hq4das8H--gPVSeYTWyje44UZF3gOs5SHEz3FGMa9u9A8uiBh3nov0_ed6o/s320/young-girl-reading.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Also weekly,</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
on <i><a href="http://thoughtsonwandrian.blogspot.com/">Thoughts on Wandrian</a></i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I will share a piece</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
of that week's work</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Sometimes</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
one may overlap into the other.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Sometimes,</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
thoughts shared on</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><a href="http://blessbonny.blogspot.com/">Bless Bonny</a></i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
may appear here</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
or poems written for here,</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
pop onto</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><a href="http://thoughtsonwandrian.blogspot.com/">Thoughts on Wandrian.</a></i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><br /></i></div>
And yes, some of this will be in a form other than free verse, such as just plain prose. <br />
You shall see. I promise.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'freebooter script', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">- Emma Pearl - </span><br />
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</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<i><br /></i></div>Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-47467407696487165342012-05-29T21:05:00.002-07:002012-05-29T21:05:28.016-07:00I Decided To Wear A Skirt Today<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left; text-indent: 28px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>I wore my olive colored blouse today.</i></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I wore it with my mustard colored skirt.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I clothed my feet in sandals - brown and</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">black - wrapped my wrists in brassy, shining</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">bangles. I shook out my hair, wrapped it up,</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">a nest of brown and gold behind my ears.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Smooth hoops of burnished brass adorned my ears.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A smile I could not do without today</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">adorned my face, supported and held up</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">my burgeoning heart. Today I will skirt</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">my pain, step around it, bear a shining</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">countenance, and strong and starry eyes, and </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">a mouth turned up at the corners, joy and</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">warm laughter from my throat, and at my ears.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have decided to forget today.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My mouth is warm with words, the sun shining,</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">and soft round my waist falls my yellow skirt.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I shall spin and swirl, and sew my heart up,</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">step out my door and carry my feet up</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">the street, a girl young and beautiful and</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">fresh, my hands lifting and tossing my skirt</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">around me, shunning the wind in my ears</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">having decided to breathe free today,</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">to dress myself in hope, bright and shining.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Outside my door, the street is hot, shiny</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">with heat waves, quivering up and down, up</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">and down, heavy with quiet, near midday,</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">the hour of sandwiches and soup and </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">tea served in glasses that mirror bright eyes,</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">eyes bent on hiding, attempting to skirt</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">the truth shaken by sun from the black skirts</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">of the night, sending blushes round our ears.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We only want to lock our memory up,</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">forget, for a day, the “things” of life and</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">greet the world awake, ready for this day.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So I shall wear my bright skirt, and lift up</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">my face, shining with this, in my heart and </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">in my ears. “Nothing shall ruin today.”</span></span></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'freebooter script', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">- Emma Pearl - </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">A Sestina written Spring 2012 at Stephen F. Austin State University</span></i></div>
</div>
</div>Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-6350385542812979382012-05-27T21:30:00.001-07:002012-05-27T21:30:18.650-07:00He Really Is Faithful<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i>It happens.</i></span><br />
It really does.<br />
That pain, that old, old struggle,<br />
the weakness and worry<br />
that jars,<br />
and jolts,<br />
and refuses to stay away,<br />
does go away.<br />
<br />
It does,<br />
when adulthood has crept<br />
into your soul,<br />
when your pressing forward<br />
and pushing on<br />
has changed you.<br />
<br />
You discover,<br />
talking over things,<br />
that old fears,<br />
maybe not present ones<br />
but old ones<br />
are gone,<br />
forgotten,<br />
vanished.<br />
<br />
And you know,<br />
then,<br />
that all fears, all pain<br />
will slide away,<br />
as you keep pushing,<br />
keep forcing,<br />
keep <i>praying</i><br />
you know, then,<br />
that peace will come<br />
<br />
at long last.<br />
<br />
<i>Because He really is faithful.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'freebooter script', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">- Emma Pearl -</span></i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
Poem #2 in my <i>- A Poem A Day -</i></div>Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-62349573822097754012012-05-26T21:54:00.003-07:002012-05-26T21:56:02.177-07:00Plum Tart<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">It was not hard.</span><br />
I piled purple plums<br />
clinging, wet, to each other,<br />
glimmering with a ripe glimmer<br />
and shiny with sugar.<br />
I poured and pressed them,<br />
into pastry rolled<br />
thick and buttery.<br />
I pulled the limpid dough<br />
up<br />
and over the rich red fruit,<br />
then put it in the oven.<br />
The hour fled by,<br />
warmed by the gradual growing<br />
of the deep scent,<br />
the quivering aroma<br />
of summer,<br />
of childhood,<br />
of goodness wrapped in piecrust,<br />
a medieval sort of luxury,<br />
a messy, gooey,<br />
glimmering<br />
goodness.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'freebooter script', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">- Emma Pearl - </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The beginning of my summer endeavor - <i>A Poem A Day</i></span></div>Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-21340581126381556562012-05-25T21:40:00.000-07:002012-05-25T21:40:06.268-07:00A New Beginning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">To all my readers, </span></div>
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new and old.</div>
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This is for you,</div>
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and for me</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96Wnzxzz0UXbMn72ElDuH2LPtAA2MYNFmnDAIqY4-JxUHmRnVkpdlW8XlfEeXNQtXTY8K7XdawyOF_mgUfC5bbI9dCGX6m6QdROyUZxXUAL0473GSQBAIRqODgjYLrtuQgNcMCRsjKmI/s1600/Girl_Reading_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96Wnzxzz0UXbMn72ElDuH2LPtAA2MYNFmnDAIqY4-JxUHmRnVkpdlW8XlfEeXNQtXTY8K7XdawyOF_mgUfC5bbI9dCGX6m6QdROyUZxXUAL0473GSQBAIRqODgjYLrtuQgNcMCRsjKmI/s400/Girl_Reading_2.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
I am beginning again,<div>
writing again,</div>
<div>
because writing matters.</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Words matter.</span></div>
<div>
Stories and songs </div>
<div>
cling to the red</div>
<div>
beating warmth of my heart.<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Adulthood </span>climbed up in my lap,</div>
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weighting me down,</div>
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crowding out my childhood.</div>
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I let go</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
for a while</div>
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of the things I loved,</div>
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but they still cling.</div>
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They pull at my bones,</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
tugging at the chords that tie my heart</div>
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to my soul.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGo-DZi3chDlNxyP54f3WULxdIOhW1E-s7WKtHgcDnFsCqFjRAv_RkfSDq3IXbrxo-ZVZFZSSU1OmCr6XkG76l5Cx4a3MD-4zeQcg8E7K4Wk6vIezQl08Dj0O5BFSSHjZMXxkLbbWwD-o/s1600/book-tea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGo-DZi3chDlNxyP54f3WULxdIOhW1E-s7WKtHgcDnFsCqFjRAv_RkfSDq3IXbrxo-ZVZFZSSU1OmCr6XkG76l5Cx4a3MD-4zeQcg8E7K4Wk6vIezQl08Dj0O5BFSSHjZMXxkLbbWwD-o/s320/book-tea.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">For a little while</span><br />
I had forgotten those dear old friends,<br />
treasured books and companions<br />
evenings spent in stillness.<br />
But no more.<br />
I am rising from heavy years,<br />
remembering the goodness,<br />
the sun and the earth,<br />
the <i>fearlessness</i><br />
of childhood.</div>
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I shall write again,</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
every day,</div>
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and I shall share it</div>
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here with you.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'freebooter script', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;"><i>-Emma Pearl-</i></span></div>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-32597261385137359422011-11-06T20:18:00.000-08:002011-11-20T13:32:56.071-08:00All These Years II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Autumn had already laid its cool hands on the fevered earth, and lent a <i>coolness</i> to the air, the day we celebrated Mother's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">birthday.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQNNrcrGZW74MJLRGAL1ZgFs9I4kL__QhNFHQ9zuFyOjZn59zzzviqYX4Nn_PIjVqCoQQWnjPRayv44WH4yiNDfgwCVgiRKvBx2CWdTY5aMlmc6ZoLIbxMBkoc4zsdOqDgtCMXsTA3F4/s1600/IMG_1747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQNNrcrGZW74MJLRGAL1ZgFs9I4kL__QhNFHQ9zuFyOjZn59zzzviqYX4Nn_PIjVqCoQQWnjPRayv44WH4yiNDfgwCVgiRKvBx2CWdTY5aMlmc6ZoLIbxMBkoc4zsdOqDgtCMXsTA3F4/s640/IMG_1747.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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We drank in the goodness of it, and spent all day outside.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsSGY-1IblDIa2kGpj2d_UFkjvuhLKkkiHwuVeYmZeiQ-zJFd51wmh3Ht7ZreSCSouCR398N3bQqEf-4TIgSRpoOBG8L5Z4ktNkU0XqMweMVOfokcVbkj5yLJHXGEvv5FWb4ZdUTyPAQ/s1600/IMG_1730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsSGY-1IblDIa2kGpj2d_UFkjvuhLKkkiHwuVeYmZeiQ-zJFd51wmh3Ht7ZreSCSouCR398N3bQqEf-4TIgSRpoOBG8L5Z4ktNkU0XqMweMVOfokcVbkj5yLJHXGEvv5FWb4ZdUTyPAQ/s640/IMG_1730.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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There were <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">garlic marinated burgers</span>, served on freshly baked hamburger buns, and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">oven roasted vegetables;</span> a blend of sweet potatoes, brussel sprouts, zucchini, squash, and onions. We filled our glasses to the brim with<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;"> <a href="http://www.wholeliving.com/133174/green-tea-apple-spice-drink"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">Apple Spice Green Tea.</span></i></a></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgrl0cUhUP6VEnICQhod1Zum3EZnkB9h4bJXZnZBDRj9nNUvnnYGPUsreF5vT-TrmxeRiWvDJaVf-zWFMPs63yK2HLKcyAq6RpPGS52CG96ukJQ1BSDsYPvCzXgkyvBPDrPvmq3BFY40/s1600/IMG_1739.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgrl0cUhUP6VEnICQhod1Zum3EZnkB9h4bJXZnZBDRj9nNUvnnYGPUsreF5vT-TrmxeRiWvDJaVf-zWFMPs63yK2HLKcyAq6RpPGS52CG96ukJQ1BSDsYPvCzXgkyvBPDrPvmq3BFY40/s640/IMG_1739.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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We shared gifts and conversation under the evening trees, then <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">German Chocolate Cake</span></i> and hand-churned Chocolate ice cream...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsYMtqFK0jgDK0JSTq0MLbTszVyN6VfRxNY1slrWLbwxWW7ns9VqgBwqTXAeH73C7FSa-hHn0ZAZf9bDyJw1YLwfQjR104QzY2nRPEWIsDlX0zlcnWqGyJV7u_OI_Pf53f_DbBs2cS6cU/s1600/IMG_1736.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsYMtqFK0jgDK0JSTq0MLbTszVyN6VfRxNY1slrWLbwxWW7ns9VqgBwqTXAeH73C7FSa-hHn0ZAZf9bDyJw1YLwfQjR104QzY2nRPEWIsDlX0zlcnWqGyJV7u_OI_Pf53f_DbBs2cS6cU/s640/IMG_1736.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Celebrating</span> Mom's <b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">50 years</span></i></b>, blessed by the goodness of God's gift to all of us.</div>
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Laughter came next, in the form of the two most adorable <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">clowns,</span> dancing comics on the lawn, performing magic tricks, and ending our evening with smiles across <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">every</span> face.</i></div>
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</div>Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-23504681976169664132011-10-19T20:47:00.000-07:002011-10-20T12:52:55.268-07:00All These Years<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">T</span>his is Momma's birthday breakfast :)</div>
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Yes. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This photo is real.</span></i></div>
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I can't hide it, I am so proud of cooking my first omelet! </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">7:00 </span>on Sunday morning found us 4 sisters in the kitchen,<br />
chopping veggies, mincing garlic, preparing herbs,<br />
and whisking eggs to the sound of<br />
Nat King Cole singing from Emma's laptop.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">... it was still early for some :)</span></div>
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We then paraded over to the Little House where Mom and Dad were deep in a planning session for Mom's long dreamed-of landscaping on our farm.<br />
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THEN, came the birthday <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">party</span></i>... stay tuned for part II!!</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17416688929079190293noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-37381266981726152802011-10-11T15:57:00.000-07:002011-10-11T16:02:46.265-07:00On the Inside<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Dear Father in Heaven,</span> <i>must</i> <i>life be so hard?</i> Must every step I take be riddled with challenges? Must every hope, every dream, every whisper of happy things, be marred by old pain and older despair? What is it You are saying? <i>What is the cry of Your heart?</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>I am listening.</i> You have my attention.</span><br />
<br />
And I hear it, in the stillness of the tears that are balling up in my throat, I hear His words, simple, unchanging.... <br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>Press forward. Don't despair.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I am with you.</span></i></div>
<i><br /></i><br />
So I shall press on, because, beyond everything that seems so close and weighty now, He stands, immovable, unchangeable, <i>truthful</i>.<br />
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<i>And I know that my heart and hope is in His hands. </i>No matter the battle on the outside,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> <i>I am safe on the inside.</i></span><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
With all my heart,<br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Emma</span></i></div>Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-18111466003793815502011-07-24T15:05:00.000-07:002011-07-24T15:06:29.767-07:00Joys of July<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Tomato</i> soup for lunch. Sliced <i>tomatoes</i> for dinner. Canned <i>tomatoes</i> for winter. I love <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">July!!</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17416688929079190293noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-63809023957958378102011-07-03T10:47:00.000-07:002011-07-03T10:47:13.658-07:00the Surfboy<div style="text-align: center;">Matt is a surfer.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He makes his own wooden surfboard.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzi6UzJOf8w2o7CW9nPKkbna3HfFkqfZDLTtdnTF_1cKjZi66yfPsD4Jsk69UM9VtTsKuHg6jCNthEwRoZ3NFPEZWcnhMJzIA3xNIIgN1EQMVEkMKf0O38s7vpE9pFCo8o4GC6klTrY4/s1600/IMG_7026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzi6UzJOf8w2o7CW9nPKkbna3HfFkqfZDLTtdnTF_1cKjZi66yfPsD4Jsk69UM9VtTsKuHg6jCNthEwRoZ3NFPEZWcnhMJzIA3xNIIgN1EQMVEkMKf0O38s7vpE9pFCo8o4GC6klTrY4/s640/IMG_7026.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">And goes adventuring on the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">lake!</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17416688929079190293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-61365075231415538332011-06-12T16:51:00.000-07:002011-06-12T16:55:43.488-07:00Dear Poet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My dear poet is turning </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">21.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKi18l81Wysk9tsQZ24YxLvjZSPePx2XF3Nj88GOGOXlzo0A7Yl97ucKSQg6E3Zb6ZaN-fdaJMbcY5Xwx9xjYbnoBXV5yIpKzkqA9K_hWW0IRRQuXABz2g7o6JMK-3SP-iJb_8ErsqxY/s1600/lydiaparty%2Cmay2011-79.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKi18l81Wysk9tsQZ24YxLvjZSPePx2XF3Nj88GOGOXlzo0A7Yl97ucKSQg6E3Zb6ZaN-fdaJMbcY5Xwx9xjYbnoBXV5yIpKzkqA9K_hWW0IRRQuXABz2g7o6JMK-3SP-iJb_8ErsqxY/s640/lydiaparty%2Cmay2011-79.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(^photo by </span><a href="http://www.rachelleighphoto.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Rachel Leigh</i></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">)</span><br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I love her so much. She inspires me and encourages me in<i> so</i> many ways.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmfYDMz99rgkKfadMLnKskBdYTdchf0VNkJpfxdwyGHe6zAUWKHRZJ36Ejp1fSr6-Ta-a91jOhJFyGKjuaA7MBKzMIebFNoe-eBVSBumsFdHCI-qHccXiFczG8K5AE1yCepRL0NfGiTAU/s1600/IMG_6967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmfYDMz99rgkKfadMLnKskBdYTdchf0VNkJpfxdwyGHe6zAUWKHRZJ36Ejp1fSr6-Ta-a91jOhJFyGKjuaA7MBKzMIebFNoe-eBVSBumsFdHCI-qHccXiFczG8K5AE1yCepRL0NfGiTAU/s640/IMG_6967.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
She is beautiful and loving. </div><div style="text-align: center;">What a wonderful sister I have. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzeFVbOv-fMfksKttPEEoGvTpjX5Vnu-UyB3Dglq2bt3VcDVxYF6YzyHlgdYsmBAutzqGmFcQGIXFaeO3unftfRYUpEq0JQkDeVaW0nbkHefKUiAxntRZB7QoHyUMKMhaDYq_9eL0y0Y0/s1600/IMG_6996.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzeFVbOv-fMfksKttPEEoGvTpjX5Vnu-UyB3Dglq2bt3VcDVxYF6YzyHlgdYsmBAutzqGmFcQGIXFaeO3unftfRYUpEq0JQkDeVaW0nbkHefKUiAxntRZB7QoHyUMKMhaDYq_9eL0y0Y0/s640/IMG_6996.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">A poet, cook, seamstress, and songster. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> She's an artist </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">in all these things.</span> </span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69SkyVlABD0zQmn0KiAB8ICANuTCKVbvSeS3k41gzUf2WBztGZ7UenF1dxf_zopj9ytzzmu0sGMnNyJewoVcafWIusB7K0_opnhWlkw5EN3iqGbsusQCdoAmxRvwBt-_H2w7zE2mOKAI/s1600/IMG_6113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69SkyVlABD0zQmn0KiAB8ICANuTCKVbvSeS3k41gzUf2WBztGZ7UenF1dxf_zopj9ytzzmu0sGMnNyJewoVcafWIusB7K0_opnhWlkw5EN3iqGbsusQCdoAmxRvwBt-_H2w7zE2mOKAI/s640/IMG_6113.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">I love my dear Emma! </div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">-Grace</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>p.s. </i></span>Birthday dinner pictures coming soon!</div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17416688929079190293noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-65744640090533917252011-05-15T18:39:00.000-07:002011-05-15T18:47:12.363-07:00Little Grace<div style="text-align: center;">My little Grace turned... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">16??</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5RTr8fk19JnNGKgGek9OOxYvFKu_IrlwBYjtMzml1CEOaTxzNN9IToIyxIxDzLlmlP4fHvI7MZE7E_sYa-ArAdhNrLcufGZecG4ohRrHJ2n6uYk5TgP-m-74rG3aSr_looW00vBQ7bBg/s1600/IMG_6234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5RTr8fk19JnNGKgGek9OOxYvFKu_IrlwBYjtMzml1CEOaTxzNN9IToIyxIxDzLlmlP4fHvI7MZE7E_sYa-ArAdhNrLcufGZecG4ohRrHJ2n6uYk5TgP-m-74rG3aSr_looW00vBQ7bBg/s640/IMG_6234.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">My <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">little</span></i> Grace? You mean... my <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">talented</span></i>, accomplished, brown-eyed beauty little <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Grace?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuql7EbvEYvFbrojG4YUSqUkeRLv_to1jjWbRMcwComD7tq4EeaT4mEl6fLpT6hLrOR8A_1AG_m0_dO33juRWE6P0-SP2E-6WCNsDR58WT_KtGurpYwgwqLgWmlGvu1TRTDYFaprtsr-c/s1600/IMG_5981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuql7EbvEYvFbrojG4YUSqUkeRLv_to1jjWbRMcwComD7tq4EeaT4mEl6fLpT6hLrOR8A_1AG_m0_dO33juRWE6P0-SP2E-6WCNsDR58WT_KtGurpYwgwqLgWmlGvu1TRTDYFaprtsr-c/s640/IMG_5981.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Happy Birthday precious sister!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Emma and Johanna</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRvcG3ffN86BmoM_3EDAjKRc-wT3Q_1qGTZpIBNrgsTcmExOmPZxpJxywwrXcZ46jCafwdXXCJONWxFcLnBwoJBlLjqo3JELpY6gjArH8ZeOjH7yHMYahQuzt5as97hxCWocclNQDpY6Y/s1600/IMG_6220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRvcG3ffN86BmoM_3EDAjKRc-wT3Q_1qGTZpIBNrgsTcmExOmPZxpJxywwrXcZ46jCafwdXXCJONWxFcLnBwoJBlLjqo3JELpY6gjArH8ZeOjH7yHMYahQuzt5as97hxCWocclNQDpY6Y/s640/IMG_6220.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">(<i>photos by brother James)</i><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>POST SCRIPT: </b> And <i>yes,</i> we will be scheduling your birthday photo shoot soon, Grace! :)</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17416688929079190293noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-91567823683506933942011-05-02T21:09:00.000-07:002011-05-02T21:09:44.703-07:00Knowing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">The scent of warmth </span></i>greeted my weary senses when I entered my room last night. The clock said <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">12:41</span>, and after a cramped 8 hours in a car surrounded by pouring rain, the sweet touch of home pulled hard at the tension twisted through my frame.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJbrEq3OqfYRBQPVHO3sWZvfsR_giy45TlUWml0sOHoGOdDpl790BupFElJs9DpvbH2-FH_5yTLkwyrkgnP2bYC3qOvovexiUmZVMDf1i3oHmene9KA6R4Zkj26yzokks7YKqzpxgXRxA/s1600/IMG_5792.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJbrEq3OqfYRBQPVHO3sWZvfsR_giy45TlUWml0sOHoGOdDpl790BupFElJs9DpvbH2-FH_5yTLkwyrkgnP2bYC3qOvovexiUmZVMDf1i3oHmene9KA6R4Zkj26yzokks7YKqzpxgXRxA/s640/IMG_5792.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I put away my things, and curled up under my blankets, my head against a pillow that had afforded me little rest on the trip, now embracing my sleepy brain.<br />
<br />
Mom let us sleep in this morning, sleep so blessed, so comforting, that when I rose my mind was at rest. I was ready to begin again, to court the duties of the day with determined strength. But it did not last long. Those duties began to rush in. Math, so much Math, thoughts of the coming weekend and all I must do to prepare, of the coming weeks, even the coming months, and all the things for which completion seems impossible.<br />
<br />
I feel as if I am in the car again, caught in a never ending waiting, waiting for all these burdens to fall, waiting to be done with them, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">so that I may move on.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg308-og8090z49XNdyLBBYOT4QE1ntKsOI0eRxeQFNTo4y9Kfu478gpRSGqyjf5QiwU8LDuHrDR8OevBi8YXUPezKUt7-izB7_EzcooUXBFXw1IrB8kSt-65bK54VDmGWVmfktbt7XGDM/s1600/IMG_6000-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg308-og8090z49XNdyLBBYOT4QE1ntKsOI0eRxeQFNTo4y9Kfu478gpRSGqyjf5QiwU8LDuHrDR8OevBi8YXUPezKUt7-izB7_EzcooUXBFXw1IrB8kSt-65bK54VDmGWVmfktbt7XGDM/s640/IMG_6000-2.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">But there is no peace in waiting</span>, in waiting to reach a goal, in waiting to see my visions realized, in waiting for my own Mr. Knightley to bless me with his presence,<i> in waiting for God</i> to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">clear my head </span>of my own weaknesses and fear.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxreHEEjiDX-tsc3CBPit-MnNFwoafpRrXPISDyYMFceDwJnXYYTdrRLtviQpZEZfRWLJR0ivXcWK1lsDq_bu_RWVQrYcAmeuJoBc39KMtKBhO7WGpC21j-mUThQRLz4HRnfCC9HXyWfw/s1600/IMG_5712-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxreHEEjiDX-tsc3CBPit-MnNFwoafpRrXPISDyYMFceDwJnXYYTdrRLtviQpZEZfRWLJR0ivXcWK1lsDq_bu_RWVQrYcAmeuJoBc39KMtKBhO7WGpC21j-mUThQRLz4HRnfCC9HXyWfw/s640/IMG_5712-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
There is no peace here.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> None.</span><br />
<br />
So I must stop waiting, stop waiting and start doing. I must press forward, move my feet toward the light, no matter how far away it seems.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBN9hzX0WAZsCzVvjhC0WnNA2wosWcSint-jhEyNyn6pqVK9Lw6cm3K8nCqDk9lH3Ec1CpYcx-5jMmL5kTOlPF6CxXBsAcwXbnhMCapCEgAXrVqSm_PZDsxDb1DljMdenIWH9P4KET12U/s1600/IMG_3894-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBN9hzX0WAZsCzVvjhC0WnNA2wosWcSint-jhEyNyn6pqVK9Lw6cm3K8nCqDk9lH3Ec1CpYcx-5jMmL5kTOlPF6CxXBsAcwXbnhMCapCEgAXrVqSm_PZDsxDb1DljMdenIWH9P4KET12U/s640/IMG_3894-2.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><br />
And if I need stop, to be still, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I will not be waiting,</span> <i>I will be knowing</i>. Knowing that I am safe in His presence, knowing that no matter the future that nudges my present, nor the past that has shaped where I am now, I am wrapped in the blessedness of the moment. I am bound in a warmth I cannot express, and <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">my heart can be at peace.</span></i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>From the bottom of my heart,</i><br />
<br />
Emma<br />
<br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Note: I wrote these thoughts after a long trip home from Arkansas the weekend before last. Looking back, now, at the wisdom the Lord gave me, I am blessed again by the love no mortal man can describe.</span></i></div>Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-51548129324732320592011-04-06T19:40:00.000-07:002011-04-06T19:49:54.984-07:00Seven<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Yep, our little Matt turned <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">seven</span> years old yesterday. We surprised him with a chocolate cake and strawberries last night even though his "real" birthday party (which he double-checked before eating his piece of cake) isn't until Friday. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtn3ysfdKt21XCGmkGb6-djO1LFoAZEO0yf-Oy1tm-s9qGa6EHisSCJcg_EQ2Hui-FcJk2FAE9kF1-3Eyw-biLiZnWwKkjN41wUSX88_Xq5qqVlXGYsuR2SDjS-kh7NuqCA6kHftwdII/s1600/IMG_5342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtn3ysfdKt21XCGmkGb6-djO1LFoAZEO0yf-Oy1tm-s9qGa6EHisSCJcg_EQ2Hui-FcJk2FAE9kF1-3Eyw-biLiZnWwKkjN41wUSX88_Xq5qqVlXGYsuR2SDjS-kh7NuqCA6kHftwdII/s640/IMG_5342.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I don't think the reality hit him until today when he put on his hat, ready to help in the garden, and exclaimed, "Jo!! I'm the <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">only</span></i> one who is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>seven</b></span> in this family!"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrUTGil1C7hSK9bc8fqcghT87xXklSLTdtjM_7TunCy0Cl8h9ZHRbJkb_P7fZlkqlT8bWf1v-UnS8m811t721eD5w7pkM-JMC5V2VsuBXhH_9NaVyfwjrCXiPHDFIEJmP9knECfjnJNYs/s1600/IMG_5348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrUTGil1C7hSK9bc8fqcghT87xXklSLTdtjM_7TunCy0Cl8h9ZHRbJkb_P7fZlkqlT8bWf1v-UnS8m811t721eD5w7pkM-JMC5V2VsuBXhH_9NaVyfwjrCXiPHDFIEJmP9knECfjnJNYs/s640/IMG_5348.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Evidently, that is a very <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">exciting</span></span> fact. :)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><i>{when you're in a family of seven}</i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">He's a special boy. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV1D0WQEf6gSMbtpJEJJvsGSef7xnKur3bbO8MKAuZe5poPVgIIQNfk-sfmN2eCxDqVLSmZfjI9ukmwSy9pVMe_PNLrMj8wSXHSRAkiB1DA5diI8yuyC4_Ebqh-tj69lE86UzXly4VXsg/s1600/IMG_5351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV1D0WQEf6gSMbtpJEJJvsGSef7xnKur3bbO8MKAuZe5poPVgIIQNfk-sfmN2eCxDqVLSmZfjI9ukmwSy9pVMe_PNLrMj8wSXHSRAkiB1DA5diI8yuyC4_Ebqh-tj69lE86UzXly4VXsg/s640/IMG_5351.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17416688929079190293noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-72609125643582532022011-04-05T13:36:00.000-07:002011-04-05T13:38:08.471-07:00a Recital<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b>On April 10, 2011</b></span></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7Xz3XEMk9q7bPhFQ5sxyZu-usBzNFoBGqx0QgDr5mvT7z9-kUt-9KfgKOA2rPPTJaTmx2rqscIJ8fCWauQ3CnUGMvqb8XTZig8QcR95MAaMwwvwn_27p2VjYffMdD52pylIMs6MrQHs/s1600/IMG_5099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7Xz3XEMk9q7bPhFQ5sxyZu-usBzNFoBGqx0QgDr5mvT7z9-kUt-9KfgKOA2rPPTJaTmx2rqscIJ8fCWauQ3CnUGMvqb8XTZig8QcR95MAaMwwvwn_27p2VjYffMdD52pylIMs6MrQHs/s640/IMG_5099.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">A Rambellwood Recital</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">3 o' clock in the afternoon</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>{Refreshments to follow}</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
This Sunday there will be a gathering. We will come together in our small parlor and listen to music, watch small instruments held by small fingers, and hear small voices thrill our hearts. Then, too, there will be songs by the adults, all of us, together, sharing music. <br />
<br />
Do you have anything special planned this spring? Share it with us!</div></div>Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-69257590124629095412011-04-03T20:54:00.000-07:002011-04-03T20:54:20.309-07:00Late Is The Hour<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">It is late, very late. </span> Late, because, on a Sunday evening, one finds an early bedtime crucial in one's preparation for Monday. Late, because, after such a long week, one must rest, and rest well.<br />
<br />
But, this particular Sunday night, I have a particular reason for staying up. I discovered, in reading Everly Pleasant's blog, <a href="http://everlypleasant.blogspot.com/"><i>Clickety Clack</i></a>, something that peaked my interest, a conference for Christian women who write, or speak, and minister. A conference called <i><a href="http://shespeaksconference.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">She Speaks</span></a></i>. They are offering three scholarships, and I am barely in time for the second.<br />
<br />
The challenge? To write a story in six words.<br />
<br />
The example? Ernest Hemingway's, "FOR SALE. BABY SHOES. NEVER WORN".<br />
<br />
Intimidating, right? But a challenge to my writer's soul. So, I laid down my book, closed shut my eyes, and raised my prayers for wisdom, for words to speak His heart, for truth that was His.<br />
<br />
Here is what, with all my heart, I put on paper. <br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote>CANCER. <i>Terror.</i> Miracle beyond believing. JESUS.</blockquote><br />
There.... a story, simple, true, and brimming with all the joy I can muster.<br />
<br />
-Emma<br />
<div style="font: 13.0px Palatino; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Palatino; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div></div>Emma Pearlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05748489776196996868noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-69893298770792942702011-03-29T20:38:00.000-07:002011-03-29T20:39:18.293-07:00the Kitchen<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">... is where the <i>fun</i> happens! </span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOqetJFRzm_ZjQtQxpgjzpRy3FPCnLOMdjmdqswE0BL3e__yzNv9ZiZXGIxDvI3bt4Gkgt9jzDp-AoH_G28T4VWBQEb5AWWVZKt3KEjUlRCFb_Nm9wYM6GXtjtDJP92o8WtX1RP1BWDU/s1600/IMG_5725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOqetJFRzm_ZjQtQxpgjzpRy3FPCnLOMdjmdqswE0BL3e__yzNv9ZiZXGIxDvI3bt4Gkgt9jzDp-AoH_G28T4VWBQEb5AWWVZKt3KEjUlRCFb_Nm9wYM6GXtjtDJP92o8WtX1RP1BWDU/s640/IMG_5725.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>Mmmhmm...</i> :)</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17416688929079190293noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345505084385790725.post-60433494900333651472011-02-25T20:22:00.000-08:002011-02-25T20:25:48.560-08:00Signs of Spring<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Gerber daises</span></span> and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">oranges</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtmnVFpeGb5HvB64Mpy3_nCdoZOo3_l8fkMYCEJ5B-QrfBz71zUTpZpJ9bcdK1hYYQpidpua8VtTrfhIOE0YymlrU9yKjk67e9326OeA0DS416JnKZSgQ2k9KEIqkTY9_Bt_WlVsCTx4/s1600/IMG_5325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtmnVFpeGb5HvB64Mpy3_nCdoZOo3_l8fkMYCEJ5B-QrfBz71zUTpZpJ9bcdK1hYYQpidpua8VtTrfhIOE0YymlrU9yKjk67e9326OeA0DS416JnKZSgQ2k9KEIqkTY9_Bt_WlVsCTx4/s640/IMG_5325.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Sunshiny</span></i> outdoor activities</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj36wjLImRcm2duYXNud4aeq0pOPsNfagbrstFn2aEmLwpurXc756vXhWaEI9PN8-YZHnaporeyzBvf08xuWwCRQCwKTIsEQ_rXZstuI5-bZ_pF117HfQuG1Epe8kKESgVInErFuulqt7Q/s1600/IMG_5320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj36wjLImRcm2duYXNud4aeq0pOPsNfagbrstFn2aEmLwpurXc756vXhWaEI9PN8-YZHnaporeyzBvf08xuWwCRQCwKTIsEQ_rXZstuI5-bZ_pF117HfQuG1Epe8kKESgVInErFuulqt7Q/s640/IMG_5320.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Fresh Peach Pie</span></span> made from <i>last fall's</i> canned peaches</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8otQliFbydYV6AWj4-5-U-PuBCHYIEmwzTgHkleJnxgVTPd6AdD5iPnBBB876j8hezzQYx_UnEARG4FgAcrmnywbnsJmawPCwL-Cbwb-uRCLqQJdML6S2tsSXW7Mv5V33_RVztudGkI/s1600/IMG_5316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8otQliFbydYV6AWj4-5-U-PuBCHYIEmwzTgHkleJnxgVTPd6AdD5iPnBBB876j8hezzQYx_UnEARG4FgAcrmnywbnsJmawPCwL-Cbwb-uRCLqQJdML6S2tsSXW7Mv5V33_RVztudGkI/s640/IMG_5316.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Yellow</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">umbrellas :)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnwLltzP1Re7KWFijcza_XT66hV0ySoCZwqCiu0nql_8-IQS4uk6_928jgqFMUPz2Sh-sIpUp8CSatQpzj6wuDlAa6veMvcsifIpXdxxvW0Zi_TYuC3wZIZThr3THnLDDJGdXG2xe0X68/s1600/IMG_4455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnwLltzP1Re7KWFijcza_XT66hV0ySoCZwqCiu0nql_8-IQS4uk6_928jgqFMUPz2Sh-sIpUp8CSatQpzj6wuDlAa6veMvcsifIpXdxxvW0Zi_TYuC3wZIZThr3THnLDDJGdXG2xe0X68/s640/IMG_4455.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>"All signs of spring"</i>, I thought, smiling behind my camera.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Is it really here to stay, do you think? </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17416688929079190293noreply@blogger.com6