A Poem

Early Spring By Tennyson

Once more the Heavenly Power

Makes all things new,

And domes the red-plowed hills

With loving blue; 

The blackbirds have their wills,

The throstles too.

Opens a door in Heaven; 

From skies of glass

A Jacob's ladder falls

On greening grass, 

And o'er the mountain-walls

Young angels pass.

Before them fleets the shower,

And burst the buds, 

And shine the level lands,

And flash the floods;

The stars are from their hands

Flung through the woods,

The woods with living airs

How softly fanned,

Light airs from where the deep,

All down the sand,

Is breathing in his sleep,

Heard by the land.

O, follow, leaping blood,

The season's lure!

O heart, look down and up,

Serene, secure, 

Warm as the crocus cup,

Like snow-drops, pure!

Past, Future glimpse and fade

Through some slight spell,

A gleam from yonder vale, 

Some far blue fell; 

And sympathies, how frail,

In sound and smell!

Till at thy chuckled note,

Thou twinkling bird,

The fairy fancies range,

And, lightly stirred,

Ring little bells of change

From word to word.

For now the Heavenly Power

Makes all things new,

And thaws the cold, and fills

The flower with dew;

The blackbirds have their wills,

The poets too.

Winter Love

Winter  Butterflies

By Marilyn Helmer

Lacy snowflakes
fill the skies
With dainty winter
butterflies.
They flit and flutter
gently down
On crystal wings
to frozen ground.

If you were coming in the Fall

Emily Dickinson

If you were coming in the Fall,

I'd brush the Summer by

With half a smile, and half a spurn,

As Housewives do, a Fly.

If I could see you in a year,

I'd wind the months in balls --

And put them each in separate Drawers,

For fear the numbers fuse --

If only Centuries, delayed,

I'd count them on my Hand,

Subtracting, till my fingers dropped

Into Van Dieman's Land.

If certain, when this life was out --

That yours and mine, should be

I'd toss it yonder, like a Rind,

And take Eternity --

But, now, uncertain of the length

Of this, that is between,

It goads me, like the Goblin Bee --

That will not state -- its sting.

Pie and Pals

Isn't she a beauty! We got to have the Wood kids over to play and then afterwards we had a little birthday celebration for this lovely momma. I made my first Banana Pudding Pie (see recipe below) and Tobin ate my piece! (He didn't really it's an inside joke). Since Jody is a real life Bee Keeper, this poem is dedicated to her.

The Song of the Bee

By Marian Douglas

Buzz! buzz! buzz!


This is the song of the bee.


His legs are yellow;



A jolly, good fellow,


And yet a great worker is he.

In days that are sunny


He’s getting his honey,


In days that are cloudy


He’s making his wax:


On pinks and on lilies,


And gay daffodillies,


And columbine blossoms, 


He levies a tax!

Buzz! buzz! buzz!


The sweet-smelling clover,


He, humming, hangs over;


The scent of the roses


Makes fragrant his wings:


He never gets lazy;


From thistle and daisy,


And weeds of the meadow,

Some treasure he brings.

Buzz! buzz! buzz!


From morning’s first light


Till the coming of night,


He’s singing and toiling


The summer day through.


Oh! We may get weary,

And think work is dreary;


‘Tis harder by far


To have nothing to do.

_________________________________________________________


Banana Pudding Pie 

• Vanilla Wafer Crust (recipe below)
• Vanilla Pudding (recipe below)
• Whipped Cream (recipe below)
• 3-4 medium bananas, cut into slices
• 20 vanilla wafers plus more for decoration (see note)

Vanilla Wafer Crust:

• 2 1/2 cups (about 30) crushed vanilla wafers
• 1/2 cup butter  I used coconut oil and it was fantastic.

Vanilla Pudding (doubled)

• 1  1/2 cup sugar
• 2/3 cup all-purpose flour
• 4 large eggs
• 8 egg yolks
• 4 cups milk
• 4 teaspoons vanilla extract

Whipped Cream:

• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1/4 cup powdered sugar
• 1/2 tsp. vanilla

For the crust:

In a medium bowl, stir together crushed vanilla wafers and butter  or coconut oil until blended. Firmly press on bottom and up the sides of a 9-inch pie plate.

Bake at 350° for 10 to 12 minutes or until lightly browned. Remove to a wire rack, and let cool 30 minutes or until completely cool.

For the pudding: Whisk together sugar, flour, eggs, yolks and milk in a heavy saucepan. Cook over medium-low heat, whisking constantly, 10-12 minutes or until it reaches the thickness of chilled pudding. (Mixture will just begin to bubble and will be thick enough to hold soft peaks when whisk is lifted. It must be thick and slightly bubbly to set up properly!) Remove from heat, and stir in vanilla.

Transfer to a medium bowl and cover with plastic wrap, making sure to press the plastic directly on top of the custard so it doesn't get a "skin" on it. Refrigerate til completely cool. (Can be made up to a day in advance.)

Whipped Cream: In a medium bowl, whip cream on medium high speed til soft peaks form. Slowly add the sugar and vanilla and continue to beat til thick and stiff. Don't overbeat or you'll have butter!

Assembly: Arrange half of the banana slices evenly over bottom of cooled crust. Spread 1/3 of cooled pudding over bananas, then layer with 20 vanilla wafers. Spread 1/3 more pudding over vanilla wafers, then add the remainder of the banana slices and cover them with the last of the pudding. Spread the whipped cream over the entire pie and decorate with more vanilla wafers if desired.

The layers from the bottom up should be: vanilla wafer crust, bananas, pudding, vanilla wafers, pudding, bananas, pudding, whipped cream

Refrigerate at least for 4 hours. Overnight is best. Consume within 2 days.

Also I used an entire box of vanilla wafers for the pie. If you want to decorate with additional wafers then get a second box to be on the safe side.

Make me. Eat me. Be happy.

________________________

Wildly Beautiful

Even in just this texted picture you can see that baby Isabelle is the loveliest baby. She is the calmest, sweetest, darlingest baby. Her parents must be magical. I LOVE her.

Sweet And Low

   by Lord Alfred Tennyson   

Sweet and low, sweet and low,

Wind of the western sea,

Low, low, breathe and blow,

Wind of the western sea!

Over the rolling waters go,

Come from the dying moon, and blow,

Blow him again to me;

While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,

Father will come to thee soon;

Rest, rest, on mother's breast,

Father will come to thee soon;

Father will come to his babe in the best,

Silver sails all out of the west,

Under the silver moon:

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

        

Poetry in May

Never the Time and the Place

by Robert Browning
(1812-1889)

Never the time and the place

And the loved one all together!

This path--how soft to pace!

This May -- what magic weather!

Where is the loved one's face?

In a dream that loved one's face meets mine,

But the house is narrow, the place is bleak

Where, outside, rain and wind combine

With a furtive ear, if I strive to speak,

With a hostile eye at my flushing cheek,

With a malice that marks each word, each sign!

O enemy sly and serpentine,

Uncoil thee from the waking man!

Do I hold the Past

Thus firm and fast

Yet doubt if the Future hold I can?

This path so soft to pace shall lead

Thro' the magic of May to herself indeed!

Or narrow if needs the house must be,

Outside are the storms and strangers: we

Oh, close, safe, warm sleep I and she, --

I and she!

Welcome April

The Golden Touch

The amber dust of sunset fills

The limits of my narrow room,

And every sterile shadow thrills

To golden hope, to golden bloom.

Sweet through the splendor, shrill and sweet,

Somewhere a neighboring cage-bird sings,

Sings of the Spring in this grey street

While golden glories gild his wings.

Clothed with the sun he breaks to song-

In vague remembrance, deep delight-

Of dim green worlds, forsaken long,

Of leaf-hung dawn and dewy night.

My prisoning bars, transfigured too,

Fade with the day, forsworn, forgot-

Melt in a golden mist- and you

Are here, although you know it not.

~Rosamund Marriott Watson

Mark and Mariah Musingly

She Walks in Beauty

By Lord Byron

I


She walks in beauty—like the night
  

Of cloudless climes and starry skies,


And all that's best of dark and bright
  

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;


Thus mellowed to the tender light
  

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.



II


One shade the more, one ray the less,
  

Had half impaired the nameless grace


Which waves in every raven tress
 

 Or softly lightens o'er her face—


Where thoughts serenely sweet express
  

How pure, how dear their dwelling place.



III


And on that cheek and o'er that brow
  

So soft, so calm yet eloquent,


The smiles that win, the tints that glow
  

But tell of days in goodness spent


A mind at peace with all below,
  

A heart whose love is innocent.

Did I miss September??

Nobody told me September is over and I had these lovely poems ready, but I am putting them on here anyway.

Departing summer hath assumed
An aspect tenderly illumed,
The gentlest look of spring;
That calls from yonder leafy shade
Unfaded, yet prepared to fade,
A timely carolling.
-  William Wordsworth, September

"The morrow was a bright September morn;
The earth was beautiful as if newborn;
There was nameless splendor everywhere,
That wild exhilaration in the air,
Which makes the passers in the city street
Congratulate each other as they meet."
-   Henry Wadsworth Longfellow