Song for Friday...for all the cowgirls and cowboys...

Yesterday I found this old book in the Sally Ann from the '30's  for .99cents.

When I opened it up a newspaper clipping fell out.

On one side was a poem and on the reverse was a few classified ads.

This one caught my eye...

Wow!

Imagine being an out of work cowgirl in the '30's and seeing this ad!

Yipee!

I'd be yodelling all the way to the bank!

Have a rip roarin' weekend y'all...

 

Camoflauge...

Nature, in her brilliancy, has developed a way of keeping secrets.

Female birds who blend in with the moss and the twigs.

Eggs, speckled, with the colour of sand and soil.

Nests, that fit into crevices and nooks and crannies.

During the spring and summer, we walk by them numerous times,

blind to the fact of a whole new generation being brought up.

In the winter, there sit the brown balls of roots, lichens and grass,

staring at us at eye level...taunting us as if to say...

"ha! fooled you!"

So it was on Sunday, when my nephew said he had spotted a robin on a nest...

he took me to have a quiet look and after a minute or so of searching,

there she was.

Quietly going about her motherly duties.

Right outside the door to the house.

Isn't Mother Nature grand?!

Book review...

I just finished this book a few days ago and had to recommend it.

The story dashes back and forth between past and present, between Australia,

London and the coast of Cornwall.

I love family history, so this was right up my alley.

Three women searching for their roots and truth.

The writer's style sits you down in the middle of dirty, grey old London.

You imagine the heat on your face in Australia and then you

feel the long flowing summer dresses, swishing through the manor 

and gardens in Cornwall.

A page turning mystery that will keep you up wondering "what's next?".
The review from Amazon says...
Kate Morton's The Forgotten Garden takes root in your imagination and grows into something enchanting--from a little girl with no memories left alone on a ship to Australia, to a fog-soaked London river bend where orphans comfort themselves with stories of Jack the Ripper, to a Cornish sea heaving against wind-whipped cliffs, crowned by an airless manor house where an overgrown hedge maze ends in the walled garden of a cottage left to rot. This hidden bit of earth revives barren hearts, while the mysterious Authoress's fairy tales (every bit as magical and sinister as Grimm's) whisper truths and ignite the imaginary lives of children. As Morton draws you through a thicket of secrets that spans generations, her story could cross into fairy tale territory if her characters weren't clothed in such complex flesh, their judgment blurred by the heady stench of emotions (envy, lust, pride, love) that furtively flourished in the glasshouse of Edwardian society. While most ache for a spotless mind's eternal sunshine, the Authoress meets the past as "a cruel mistress with whom we must all learn to dance," and her stories gift children with this vital muscle memory.

--Mari Malcolm --

Lilies of the Fields...

There's a magical place about a half hour drive from here...

Down Kangaroo Road, to Happy Valley Rd (sounds pretty good already?)...

Take a right on Metchosin, just past the country store...

Next to the garage...

...sits the most beautiful little church.

St Mary the Virgin.

Not only is this a pretty little churchyard, rimmed with a white picket fence, 

but something special happens on it's grounds this time of year...

  The dog tooth violets come out in all their glory!

Just about every inch of the 2 acres is covered in these little 'Easter lilies'.

One of our most delicate native wild flowers.

This church was established in 1873 with 2 acres of land which was donated by John Witty.

He was the first pioneer buried here.

Many local frontiers people are laid to rest amongst the lilies...

Their worn and faded headstones, scattered between the flowers...

Some names look familiar...

Sharing namesakes with the rich and famous.

Others are only names on simple crosses...

It's such a peaceful place to spend some time, questioning history, contemplating...

Communing with the cows...

Watching spring, finally bursting forth...

In a week or so, these flowers will have started to fade, giving way to summer meadow grass.

But for 2 fine weeks around Easter, we are treated to witness a lovely little miracle of spring.

Rejoice!