Even In Winter

We seldom have snow. I can plant almost year round. Hubby bought some end of season bulbs for a song and gave them to me for Christmas. Only a gardener could appreciate such a gift. I'll be planting those as soon as possible. We planted winter rye this year to offset the gray woods. I added a cycad to my house plant collection after a trip to Lowes. There's always bird watching.

Birds of Tennessee

The River

You know a dream is like a river 
Ever changin' as it flows 
And a dreamer's just a vessel 
That must follow where it goes 
Trying to learn from what's behind you 
And never knowing what's in store 
Makes each day a constant battle 
Just to stay between the shores 
And I will sail my vessel 
'Til the river runs dry 
Like a bird upon the wind 
These waters are my sky 
I'll never reach my destination 
If I never try 
So I will sail my vessel 
'Til the river runs dry 
Too many times we stand aside 
And let the waters slip away 
'Til what we put off 'til tomorrow 
It has now become today 
So don't you sit upon the shoreline 
And say you're satisfied 
Choose to chance the rapids 
And dare to dance that tide 
And I will sail my vessel 
'Til the river runs dry 
Like a bird upon the wind 
These waters are my sky 
I'll never reach my destination 
If I never try 
So I will sail my vessel 
'Til the river runs dry 
There's bound to be rough waters 
And I know I'll tke soome falls 
With the good Lord as my captain 
I can make it through them all 
And I will sail my vessel 
'Til the river runs dry 
Like a bird upon the wind 
These waters are my sky 
I'll never reach my destination 
If I never try 
So I will sail my vessel 
'Til the river runs dry 
Lord, I will sail my vessel 
'Til the river runs dry 
Yea 

Garth Brooks

Mockingbird,

drenched though he may be, discovered the Burford holly berries on the deck. They usually hang out in the front of the house where there is more sun and a telephone pole.

The Cloud

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, 
From the seas and the streams; 
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid 
In their noonday dreams. 
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken 
The sweet buds every one, 
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, 
As she dances about the sun. 
I wield the flail of the lashing hail, 
And whiten the green plains under, 
And then again I dissolve it in rain, 
And laugh as I pass in thunder. 

I sift the snow on the mountains below, 
And their great pines groan aghast; 
And all the night 'tis my pillow white, 
While I sleep in the arms of the blast. 
Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers, 
Lightning, my pilot, sits; 
In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, 
It struggles and howls at fits; 

Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, 
This pilot is guiding me, 
Lured by the love of the genii that move 
In the depths of the purple sea; 
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, 
Over the lakes and the plains, 
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, 
The Spirit he loves remains; 
And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile, 
Whilst he is dissolving in rains. 

The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes, 
And his burning plumes outspread, 
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, 
When the morning star shines dead; 
As on the jag of a mountain crag, 
Which an earthquake rocks and swings, 
An eagle alit one moment may sit 
In the light of its golden wings. 
And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, 
Its ardors of rest and of love, 

And the crimson pall of eve may fall 
From the depth of Heaven above, 
With wings folded I rest, on mine aery nest, 
As still as a brooding dove. 
That orbed maiden with white fire laden, 
Whom mortals call the Moon, 
Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, 
By the midnight breezes strewn; 
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, 
Which only the angels hear, 
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, 
The stars peep behind her and peer; 
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, 
Like a swarm of golden bees, 
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, 
Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, 
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, 
Are each paved with the moon and these. 

I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone, 
And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl; 
The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim 
When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. 
From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape, 
Over a torrent sea, 
Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,-- 
The mountains its columns be. 
The triumphal arch through which I march 
With hurricane, fire, and snow, 
When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair, 
Is the million-colored bow; 
The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove, 
While the moist Earth was laughing below. 

I am the daughter of Earth and Water, 
And the nursling of the Sky; 
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; 
I change, but I cannot die. 
For after the rain when with never a stain 
The pavilion of Heaven is bare, 
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams 
Build up the blue dome of air, 
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, 
And out of the caverns of rain, 
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, 
I arise and unbuild it again. 

  
Percy Bysshe Shelley 

We Are Made One with What We Touch and See

Plant Life Winner

Nature's Best Photography Windland Smith Rice International Awards

WILDERNESS TRAIL

Nantahala National Forest, North Carolina, USA

by Lori Kincaid

Hot Springs, North Carolina, USA

We are resolved into the supreme air, 
We are made one with what we touch and see, 
With our heart's blood each crimson sun is fair, 
With our young lives each spring-impassioned tree 
Flames into green, the wildest beasts that range 
The moor our kinsmen are, all life is one, and all is change. 

With beat of systole and of diastole 
One grand great life throbs through earth's giant heart, 
And mighty waves of single Being roll 
From nerveless germ to man, for we are part 
Of every rock and bird and beast and hill, 
One with the things that prey on us, and one with what we kill 

One sacrament are consecrate, the earth 
Not we alone hath passions hymeneal, 
The yellow buttercups that shake for mirth 
At daybreak know a pleasure not less real 
Than we do, when in some fresh blossoming wood 
We draw the spring into our hearts, and feel that life is good 

Is the light vanished from our golden sun, 
Or is this daedal fashioned earth less fair, 
That we are nature's heritors, and one 
With every pulse of life that beats the air? 
Rather new suns across the sky shall pass, 
New splendour come unto the flower, new glory to the grass. 

And we two lovers shall not sit afar, 
Critics of nature, but the joyous sea 
Shall be our raiment, and the bearded star 
Shoot arrows at our pleasure! We shall be 
Part of the mighty universal whole, 
And through all Aeons mix and mingle with the Kosmic Soul!. 

We shall be notes in that great Symphony 
Whose cadence circles through the rhythmic spheres, 
And all the live World's throbbing heart shall be 
One with our heart, the stealthy creeping years 
Have lost their terrors now, we shall not die, 
The Universe itself shall be our Immortality!. 

Oscar Wilde

Wild Lands

Indiana Jones

You may have heard of Indiana Jones, but what about Indiana Black?

We'll be mulling wine in this beautiful pot later today.

O Christmas Tree

Christmas Joy

is the love we all share.

Tender Tennessee Christmas

A Star,

a star dancing in the night

Messiah

We're off to the symphony tonight for Handel's Messiah.

Bonsai

Zamia furfuracea/Cardboard Palm

Vince Gill and Chet Atkins

Miss you Chet

Caccini Ave Maria

Sumi Jo

Gold and White

on the door.

A Good Laugh!

A few minutes with Mrs. Hughes and your holiday stress melts away.

I'll Be Home For Christmas/Michael Buble

Pecan Balls

Mild Weather

I finally finished decorating the tree. Mild weather had me outside for several days.

Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring

Mary Did You Know

Christmas Everyday

Bianca Ryan

The Christmas tree went up yesterday. Today, decorating will ensue.

Cardinal Rescue

I found a female cardinal incapacitated on the ground that had obviously flown into our window . They often recover quickly but she did not. She could cling to your finger and her eyes looked alert but she did not move at all. I thought the warmth from my hand might revive her but no. After about fifteen minutes, I brought her inside and put her in a little cage. She still didn't move at all but watched my movements and could turn her head a little. After about an hour, she started jumping around in the cage. Fearing she would injure herself in such a small enclosure, I released her on the deck. Good luck little bird.

Amy Grant and CeCe Winans

Titmouse

always finds newly placed seed first.

Grownup Christmas List

Goldfinches

have more subtle color in the winter.

Chamaecyparis lawsoniana 'Elwoodii'

grows slowly and is hardy in zone 6.

Peanut Pumpkin Seed

are drying. I'm sending them to a fellow gardener who grows pumpkins.

First Christmas Decorations

are Nandina berries outside

and a cute ceramic snowman inside.

Happy Birthday, Roger!