Wednesday, November 13, 2024

Bat and The Great Pumpkin -The House with Nobody In it



BAT , CHICKEN SOUP AND THE ARTIST'S BRACKET BEFORE IT WAS PAINTED


Hubby made the homemade soup and I have taken a liking to adding lemon juice, olive oil, and freshly grated ginger, pepper and sea salt. Amazing taste and so good for you.








Bat and The Great Pumpkin



โ™ฅ๏ธ This is my dream home, a small cottage surrounded by farmland , forest and nature.







A Little Easter Egg- a scarecrow in the cabbage patch with spent sunflowers behind the smaller conk





Bat discovers The Door To The Secret Garden





The House with Nobody In it - Until now



The House with Nobody In it


Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.

I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.

This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.

If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.

Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.

But a house that has done what a house should do,
a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.

So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.

by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER






This poem is in the public domain.



 


Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886 โ€“ 1918) is best known for his poem, "Trees," but he actually produced quite a large volume of work. Had his life not ended so tragically early, many believe he would have developed into one of America's great poets. Joyce married young and fathered five children even as he was establishing himself as a teacher, writer, and lecturer. While coping with the illness of one of their children, Joyce and his wife converted from the Episcopal faith to Catholocism and he ultimately became the leading Catholic poet of his time. When World War I broke out, Joyce enlisted and had contracted to write a book about his war experiences. Unfortunately, he was killed on a French battlefield before he ever even began the book; he was only 31 when he died. Interesting side note: Joyce's father worked for Johnson & Johnson and is credited with inventing that company's famous baby powder.

Sunday, October 27, 2024

HAPPY BIRTHDAY,M๐Ÿงก๐Ÿพ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿงก๐ŸŽƒ



HAPPY BIRTHDAY , M! 
LOVE, MOM, DAD ,TY, MAGGIE AND BAT ๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก๐ŸŽƒ๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿพ









Thursday, October 24, 2024

" DOES DOG URINE REALLY KILL TREES "


DOES DOG URINE REALLY KILL TREES












We love dogs, cats and trees.

We originally had a Chicago Hackberry Tree in our front yard when we moved to Equinelle, unfortunately the tree was compromised.

Repeated hits of dog urine peeled the bark off the tree and caused an open wound susceptible to disease. Then, a windstorm hit last year and the tree snapped in half. It was too weak and diseased to fight the wind and died.

A new tree recently was planted in place of the Chicago Hackberry, a Burrr Oak, but the problem remains. Dogs are already favouriting the tree. It will not be long before even the oak, known to live up to 150-250 years, can survive the burns caused by dog urine.

I would love this little tree to grow to old age. One way I can help it grow is to make dog owners aware of the potential harm of dog urine to trees.

Please, pet owners out there, take care when walking your pet.

Below is an excerpt from : MERRILL DOG PARK





"Itโ€™s easy to think, โ€œa little pee from my dog canโ€™t do harm to a huge tree.โ€ Next time you go for a walk with your dog think about it. Your dog โ€œmarksโ€ the tree, then another dog walks by smells your dogโ€™s scent and hits it again, a few minutes later and another dog walks by, hits it again. This goes on multiple times a day 365 days a year. Some trees are hit more than others and the cycle begins. One dogโ€™s scent ends up on a tree and other dogs just keep marking it, over and over until the tree is compromised."

Written by Christine MacLean



If interested in the article here is the link.



https://merrilldogpark.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/click-here-to-learn-more-about-why-dog-pee-is-harsh-on-trees.pdf




Saturday, October 19, 2024

1949, sitting on the rooftop on an Autumn night ๐ŸŽƒ Oldies playing in anot...

HALLOWEEN AUTUMN AMBIANCE - NEMO'S DREAMSCAPES










Fall, Leaves, Fall
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night's decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

Analysis (ai): The poem "Fall, Leaves, Fall" by Emily Jane Bronte presents a distinct meditation on the changing seasons and the cyclical nature of life and death. The speaker accepts the passing of summer and the onset of autumn, finding solace in the beauty of the falling leaves and the promise of snow.

Compared to Bronte's other works, this poem is relatively concise and straightforward, lacking the complex symbolism and emotional intensity of her later poetry. Yet, it shares her themes of mortality, isolation, and the enduring power of nature, which would become central to her writing.

As a product of the Victorian era, the poem reflects the prevailing Romantic sensibility, which emphasized introspection, melancholy, and a fascination with the natural world. The speaker's acceptance of the changing seasons aligns with the Romantic belief in the inevitability of change and the beauty inherent in decay.

The poem's simple yet effective imagery creates a vivid picture of the transition from autumn to winter. The falling leaves and shortening day evoke a sense of loss and inevitability, while the promise of snow and the "drearier day" suggest both the passage of time and the potential for renewal.

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