Wednesday Witterings . . .

 

(source)

So here we are, once again, sitting at the end of another month. How can that be possible. It doesn't seem like it should be, yet here we are. Every day when I look at the end of my street, what was lovely and green and flush just a few days ago, is not a brilliant scarlet mixed with ochre and gold. Every time I hop into the car to go to my sister's place I am amazed at how quickly the landscape is changing. It is as if once it got started, like a ball rolling down the hill, momentum has been picked up and, well, here we are. Things are moving along very rapidly.

 

(source)

So I told you I had joined that plenty of fish site. Well, I am glad I didn't invest any money in it. To date I've only been contacted by one fella and he was in his early 60's. Just a few one line messages and it turns out he is already in a relationship, but is looking for an older woman with fringe benefits. Give me a break. See?  I told you. That's my fate. Always. 

I wasted no time in telling him he was barking up the wrong tree. 

I won't be investing in that site. I think I will just go back to the idea that I am on my own and am going to stay that way. I've dipped my toes into the water and I am not liking the temperature. Men are such jerks.  C'est la vie.

 

(source)

Cindy and I are planning a trip up the valley to the farm markets on Friday. I am looking forward to that. Collecting squashes and apple cider. Just spending the time together.  We wanted Eileen to go with us, but she has to pick up her hearing aids that day, so won't be able to join us. It's really our last chance to go before Eileen has her operation on Monday. I'm not sure how long the recovery/resting time will be from that and I won't be traveling very far from home once that happens. Not until she is all better.

I find myself crying over that every night. How could this beautiful baby girl of mine be in this situation? Would that it was me in her place. That I would expect. I'm old. I've lived my life. I'm just waiting for something to take me out if I am really being honest.  Not my baby. She's only 48.  Born into this world with disabilities already in place, hasn't she suffered enough in life? It somehow doesn't seem fair.  But then, life is not fair. Not for lots and lots of people. Does anyone really deserve this? I think not.

Somehow we just get handed these cards in life and it is up to us how we deal with them. I am impressed with her courage. I am so proud of her.  I wish that I could be with her on Monday.  To hold her hand, to be there when she wakes up. But alas . . . not to be.

And I would be lying if a part of me doesn't feel like my ex is being his typical jerk self. Taking over the situation and not including me  . . . again . . . locking me out of the room. He's been locking me out of the room since we separated, truth be told. This is nothing new. Over all these years, his attitude has been that anything to do with the children was none of my business. And, to be honest, I've let him treat me that way. I have never been a wave maker. Never. I just let people get on with it and bite my tongue. I had thought that we might be able to do this together.

If the step mom is there, I will be really seething. Sorry, but that's the truth. I'm only human. I can't help it.

In any case, Eileen will be coming here afterwards and I will be the soft space for her to land. Maybe that is more important. That she heals in an environment where she knows she is accepted and loved and comfortable.

 

(source)

I have come to realize late in life that I have always been a dreamer with  my head in the clouds. With a hearty lust for life and boundless daydreams, but at the same time full of insecurities.  I believed that life was one of happenstance and spontaneity.  Like a television sitcom.  Endlessly never-ending with the only constant being the wacky situations I would encounter on a daily basis and solve or get out of.  Problems solved in half an hour, an hour at most and then I'd live happily ever after. 

I've learned that, while serendipity has its place and can make life sweeter, life is really more about the minutia and routine and maintenance that gives it it's heft and value.  The battery pack to a life well lived. There is a great comfort to be found in the routine and sameness of one day following the next in single file.

Its easy to let the mind wander when your hands are in dishwater, or taking the laundry out of the washer and popping it into the dryer, but following a routine is also an invitation to genuinely savour the moment given. Slowing down and losing ourselves in these slow soft minutes gives us the chance to reflect on the blessing that is ours in having a home to come back to at the end of the day, or having some cats to take care of, or that good book that is waiting for us to crawl into bed with it. A bag full of yarn and hooks waiting for us to create something new. 

There is something quietly powerful about routine. The simple rhythms we return to day after day . . . morning light through the window, the first hot drink of the day, making the bed, tidying the kitchen . . .  they become the threads that hold our days together. Routine isn't about perfection or productivity. It's about creating a life that feels steady, comforting, and beautifully our own.

Choosing small rituals with intention, we build a home and a space that supports us. We create pockets of peace in a world that often feels rushed. We remind ourselves that a beautiful life isn't composed of grand gestures, but from the gentle repetition of what matters most  . . .  care, gratitude, presence.

A beautiful life grows quietly in the everyday. In the things we do again and again, with love.

 

(source)

"Nice library. Is one of these a trick book?"

"How so???" I ask

"Like you pull it off a shelf and a hidden door opens?"

"Oh, yeah" I respond . . .  "All of them."

Books have been my constant companions for as long as I can remember and for as long as I have had the ability to pick one up. From childhood afternoons curled up with a story to quiet evenings now with a book in my hands . . .   this has always felt like home.  Reading, it seems, has carried me all through the seasons of my life.  Nancy Drew and Anne Shirley. Enid Blyton. Meg from Little Women. Those inspiring historical romances that I enjoyed in my younger years that got me through many lonely nights as a young bride whose husband was often away from home.  The thrillers I used to love, written by Steven King, another stage I went through.  Books that made me feel smart like those written by Taylor Caldwell. Stages  . . .  each one offering me comfort, adventure, wisdom, and a thousand worlds to wander through whenever my heart needed them.

That's the magic of books, isn't it? With the single turn of a page, we can step into another time, another place, another life.  We can travel without moving, learn without trying, and feel deeply without ever leaving our favourite chair. Stories have a way of expanding us . . . reminding us that there is always something more to see, more to feel, more to imagine.

My love of reading has helped to shape me, gently, quietly, beautifully. It has given me courage, curiosity, and a sense of wonder that I carry into every day. And I'm grateful . . .  endlessly grateful . . . for the way a simple book can open a door and invite us into a world we didn't even know we needed. Hidden doors that open.  Stories that stay with us, adventures waiting on our shelves . . . 

I cannot imagine a life where I did not have the joy of cracking open a book and opening my heart and mind to a new adventure.

 

(source)

Although it is a holiday here today, I still have a busy day head of me. (Don't ask me what holiday it is, I have no idea.)  I want to pop to the Avery's behind me and pick up some carrots. I don't have a vegetable in the house.  And I have work to get done. Laundry to do. Minutia to carry me through another day of wandering through life.  And then there is supper with the family at the Big Scoop later on. Memory making.

A thought to carry with you . . . 

☾ ° ★° * 。  

• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*An ordinary life can be extraordinary,

there is beauty in imperfection,

and magic can be found in every day.

We just need to have eyes 

willing to notice and see it all.

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Baked Sweet & Sour Chicken . . .  simple, delicious and built for two.

I hope you have a beautiful day.  Stay safe. Know you are valued.  Be happy and at peace. Don't forget!

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⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

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And I do too!    

   

A Day Book . . .

 

FOR TODAY, September 29th, 2026

OUTSIDE MY WINDOW ...

Some of the beautiful colours showing themselves at the end of my street. This year I hope I can get a photo looking down the street towards the mountain. That is the prettiest view. It is hard to believe that tomorrow is the last day of September, but there we are. It is. September has just whizzed by.

I AM THINKING ...

I joined Plenty of Fish yesterday on a whim. I felt sick right afterwards. There has been some interest but I'm not willing to pay any money to find out and I actually am not sure I am ready for this. Not even talking to a real man. It scares me too much.

I AM ALSO THINKING ...

A part of what scares me is my age, and also I am no bathing beauty. And also I have been lied to so many times I don't trust anyone, not male anyways. I also am having a hard time believing that anyone sincere would be interested in me. One time, many, many years ago I was spending the weekend in Windsor with my sister. She wanted to go out to this hotel bar, so I went along with her.  She had lots of hot guys hitting on her, but the only guy who hit on me was a geriatric Chinese business man in town for the weekend. Case closed.

 

(source)

I AM GRATEFUL FOR ...

Where do I start?  We are going to be treated to the most stunning scenery over the next few weeks until we get a good storm that will shake all of the leaves from the trees. Prayer. I am so grateful for the many prayers offered on Eileen's behalf. I am so grateful for my faith which helps to keep me going. My home. My family. My friends. I just feel incredibly blessed.

I AM ALSO GRATEFUL FOR GRIEF  ... 

I thought I had already processed all my grief, but I have realized over these past weeks that I am only just now beginning to process it. And I have been crying every night when I am saying my prayers. I think these last almost six years I have been running ahead of it, trying to stay out of it's way, but I think it has finally caught up with me. But perhaps that is a good thing because maybe now I can start to put it all behind me. Right now I feel that if you scratched my surface it would all just come pouring out. Like I could cry, and cry, and cry.

IN THE KITCHEN ...

Quick and Cheesy, Pepperoni Pizza Pull-Apart Bread. Now that's a delicious mouthful. This was very simple to make, quick too and very VERY delicious. Its like Monkey Bread, Pizza-style. We did not have a dip with it, but you could serve it with ranch, blue cheese, Italian, etc. dressing. Whatever you think you might enjoy. I topped it with pepperoni, but you can top this tasty bread with whatever you like and enjoy!

ON MY "TO COOK" LIST ...

These Molasses Cream Pie Cookies look awfully good. From Just So Tasty. 

THIS I BELIEVE ...

I am sure we have all had people like this in our lives. I hope that I am never this kind of person.

SOMETHING THAT IS NICE  ...

The trick is not to let life break you, because if it can, it will. Don't let it. I hope that I will always have a soft heart and to be able to capture the goodness out of every day and hang onto it.

SOMETHING ELSE THAT IS NICE ...

He knows the end from the beginning and is already putting things in place in your life to help you deal with whatever is to come. I firmly believe that to be true. I have seen it in my own life.

I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO ...

October.  I love October.

I AM WANTING TO CREATE ...

 

(source)

Granny socks  . . . 

 

(source)

A granny wreath  . . . 

A granny tree skirt. I couldn't find the source.  Sigh  . . . 

 

(source)

Granny square Christmas Baubles  . . . 

 

(source)

Crochet Popcorn Garland . . . 

SOMETHING I ENJOY ...

Cat memes.  Some of them are quite funny.

SOMETHING ELSE I ENJOY ...

The Scriptures.

I AM READING ...

THE HOLY FIRM, A Lyrical Meditation on Nature, Mortality, and the Sacred , By Annie Dillard

"This is a book of great richness, beauty and power and thus very difficult to do justice to in a brief review. . . . The violence is sometimes unbearable, the language rarely less than superb. Dillard's description of the moth's death makes Virginia Woolf's go dim and Edwardian. . . . Nature seen so clear and hard that the eyes tear. . . . A rare and precious book." — Frederick Buechner, New York Times Book Review 

 A profound book about the natural world—both its beauty and its cruelty—from Pulitzer Prize-winning author Annie Dillard In 1975 Dillard took up residence on an island in Puget Sound, in a wooden room furnished with "one enormous window, one cat, one spider, and one person." For the next two years she asked herself questions about time, reality, sacrifice, death, and the will of God. In Holy the Firm, she writes about a moth consumed in a candle flame, about a seven-year-old girl burned in an airplane accident, about a baptism on a cold beach. But behind the moving curtain of what she calls "the hard things—rock mountain and salt sea," she sees, sometimes far off and sometimes as close by as a veil or air, the power play of holy fire.

How to live with grace and wonder in the natural world.

THINGS THAT CATCH MY FANCY ...

 

(source)

Cozy chairs to curl up in. I think I have wanted one since I was a child and heard the Friendly Giant talking about them.

(source)

Pillows with ruffles  . . . 

 

(source)

Cozy little writing nooks  . . . 

(source)

Red and white  . . . 

 

(Source)

House magnets  . . . 

MAKES ME SMILE ...

This was one of those facebook meme thingies. I am supposed to belong in the 70's Disco age, Love, Peace and all that. I did like the picture though, and it makes me want to grow my hair again, although there is not much I can do to my face. Not that I would be willing to do or pay for, at any rate. 

SOMETHING TO WATCH ...

 

Mad About You, on ROKU  I love this show.

It sure takes me back. I was in my thirties when it was on the air, so about the same age as them.  Only difference, I had been married for more than a year and I had five children that I was raising.

A THOUGHT TO CARRY WITH YOU ...

☾ ° ★° * 。  

• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*The world is full of poems,

but you have to be quiet to hear them.

~Mary Oliver

And that is my daybook for this week!  Thanks always for being here!

  ⋱ ⋮ ⋰

⋯ ◯ ⋯ Take time to enjoy the small *´¯`.¸¸.☆

  ⋰ ⋮ ⋱ blessings in life.*´¯`.¸¸.☆ 

✿¸.•*¨`*•..✿✿¸.•*¨`*•..✿ ✿¸.•*¨`*•..¸✿ ✿¸.•*¨`*•..¸✿ ✿¸.•*¨`*•. ╬♥═╬╬═♥=╬╬═♥╬╬═♥╬╬═♥=╬╬♥═╬♥╬╬═♥╬╬═♥=╬╬♥╬

░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░ 

Have a beautiful day!  Don't forget!  

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⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

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And I do too!    

   

Small and Wonderful Things . . .

 

"The world is fairly studded and strewn with pennies cast broadside from a generous hand. But who gets excited by a mere penny? It is dire poverty indeed when a man is so malnourished and fatigued that he won't stoop to pick up a penny. But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted with pennies, you have with your poverty bought a lifetime of days. It is that simple. What you see is what you get." ~Anne Dillard 

 A few of the small and wonderful things which bring untold joy into my life. It's the small things in life which truly mean the most. Simple abundance . . . it's the best.    

 

(source)

I might be alone here, but I love these shorter days and longer nights. I like the coziness of it. Feeling safe and hunkered down in my wee little house. There is no place else I  would rather be.

 

(source)

Weekend with Eileen. We enjoy each other's company so much. We talk, a lot. We eat some good food and some naughty food. We always watch a good movie. This weekend it was Boyhood, which neither of us had seen before. It was a long film, so we watched it over two days. I loved that they used the same actors as they aged to portray all of the characters. It took 14 years to make this film and it was really, really good.

 

(source)

Sunday church. I love going to church on Sundays. It is an opportunity to really recharge my spiritual battery. Partaking of the sacrament, singing the hymns, the testimonies, talk, lessons. Its all good, and I love every minute of it, but then you already know that because I say it every week.

It was hard during Covid when we couldn't go to church and partake of the sacrament each week. I remember the first time back, when I was finally able to, I cried. Yes, it does mean that much to me.

 

(source)

Little visits to the egg farm. I love going up there and seeing what they have in their little farm shop, besides eggs. We went on Saturday afternoon, Cindy, Eileen and I.  We had had them save some bread for us, White and Oatmeal Brown. I also picked up some brownies fresh out of the oven, bought a large chicken for Thanksgiving and got two chicken legs for Eileen and I to enjoy. (SO good.) We had already been there, the day before, Cindy and I, to get our eggs. The Mr. told us he was going to have fresh bread on Saturday so we just had to go back and get some. He had it reserved for us.  That's what I like about them. You can message them and they will put things aside for you. And, they will also special make things for you if you ask them in advance as well.

 

(source)

Family times, they ARE the best of times. No family dinner this weekend, but there will be next weekend. But we did have Wednesday dinner out and then Eileen and I got to share two meals this weekend. So all good.

 

(source)

Prayer. I don't know where I would be without it. The scriptures tell us to pray unceasingly. I always have a prayer or a conversation with God running through my head and my heart. And what is prayer, but . . . a conversation with God.

 

(source)

Gratitude. I am a person who is grateful for all that I have been given. There, but the grace of God go I. I know that I am blessed. I have an attitude of gratitude and I like it.

 

These two. They have added an immeasurable amount of joy to my life. I am so glad that I made the decision to take them into my home. I love them so very much.

My home sweet home. I am so grateful to have a roof over my head and the means to pay for it. Again, there, but for the grace of God, go I. 

 

(source)

Enough. I have enough. Of everything.  That is a true blessing that I am eternally grateful for.

And those are my small and wonderful things for this week. I am truly blessed.

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

☾ ° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*Life is always rocky

when you're a gem.

In The English Kitchen today  . . . Cowboy Beans. These are the same beans that my sister had made us for dinner a week ago. I finally got around to making them here at home myself. Oh my, but they are some good.  Hearty and delicious!

Eileen has her MRI today. I hope you have a beautiful day. May it be filled to overflowing with blessings. Along the way don't forget! 

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⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

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And I do too!    

   

Saturday Nice . . .

 

(source)

I'll sing for you -- songs of our native land

The little brook you waded as a child;

A morning in September crisp and chill

Mid summer storms with lightening breaking wild.

I'll sing for you -- of dreams remembered still

As frail and beautiful as autumn mist;

Cool scented heliatrope . . . the pearly sheen

Of golden pools shot through with amethyst.

I'll sing for you -- of mothers gay and young,

With laughter on their lips and love-filled eyes;

Of little homes new as an army pin,

Filling the needs of your small paradise.

I'll sing for you -- of peace at middle age,

Green lawns to cut, hedges to trim and shape;

A clump of hollyhocks by the garage,

An old back fence smothered with purple grape.

I'll sing for you -- of little humble homes

Gilded with gold as with a Midas touch;

And all my heart's eternal wonder spilt

That little common lives can hold so much.

~Edna Jacques, I'll Sing for You

Roses in December, 1944

Something happens when you pass a certain point in life, when more of it is stretching behind you than what lays before you . . . the mind goes back to little corners of your life . . . and if you are lucky they are happy times . . . and you begin to unwrap them like little gifts, holding them in your hands tenderly as you revisit them. Perhaps looking at them with new eyes, and maybe even with a tenderness you have withheld from them in the past. The sands of time having softened the sharp edges and trimmed away the dross. You realize that all you have ever done is the best that you knew how to do  . . .  in living this common life you were given.  Mistakes, laid bare  . . . a part of the shaping process. Now seen with a different view . . .  one molded with the wisdom of time and experience. It was never really that bad. It was and is a part of the you that is you. 

And, if you are like me, 

you have finally come to love this beautiful creature 

you have become, and would not be, 

were it not for that and then.

 

(source)

She had one great day every year, when, every autumn, the dealer came to purchase the produce of her beehives. Then, in her pantry doorway, a large muslin bag was suspended to drain the honey from the broken pieces of comb into a large, red pan which stood beneath. while, on her doorstep, the end house children waited to see the 'honeyman' carry out and weigh the whole combs.  One year -- one-never-to-be-forgotten year -- he had handed to each of them a rich, dripping fragrant of comb. He never did it again; but they always waited, for the hope was almost as sweet as the honey.

~Flora Thompson (1876-1947), From Lark Rise, 1939

Lark Rise was one of the favorite of all the television series I have ever watched. I still watch it again, from beginning to end, from time to time.  Eileen loves it also. I had sent her the whole series on DVD from the U.K. so she could watch it as I knew she would enjoy it . . . and I was right, she did. 

There is something so sweet about these series set in historical times and places. Little glimpses into a past that no longer exists, but is a part and parcel of who we have become. A history of a people as it were. We look at them through rose coloured glasses at times. Picking only the good things and glossing over the bad. These small villages were full of simple folk, living as close to poverty as you could get. Working hard from dawn to dusk and sometimes even longer, for just enough to survive . . . but there was a goodness in this drudgery as well, a healthy respect for hard work and it's enterprise. A love of family and old ways . . . of neighbour and of friend. Of nature and of custom. These things were all important. Community. People with names and faces and lives.  You knew them. They knew you. You cared. Something sacred has been lost I believe. Oh, yes  . . .  we live richer, fuller lives . . .  and have more leisure time than we know what to do with  . . .  but somewhere along the way . . . something sacred has gone astray.

 

(source)

Each day I look out the front at the dying petunias and geraniums and think to myself, I need to do something about those and I will. I need to cart them down to the compost bins at the end of the street and get rid as they are looking very bedraggled now, and my chore this weekend is to take down the hummingbird feeder, clean it up and pack it away for another year.  It always makes me a bit sad to take it down.  I enjoy them so much while they are here and I hate to see them gone. They are such tenacious little creatures and I gain so much pleasure from watching them flit to and fro  . . .  and to watch their little territorial battles being fought. Oh, I know they will be back in the spring.  But still. I miss them when they are gone.

But it's time, to clean up the gardens and put them to bed for the coming winter months. Before it is too cold and too wet and too late.

 

(source)

I have a small rack in the bathroom that holds all my bath and kitchen linens. It can get messy at times, especially during the week when I am always reaching in and grabbing a clean tea towel or dish cloth, bath or hand towel, etc. This week only one of my cleaners came as the other one was sick with some type of bug.  When she left I noticed that she had tidied up my rack.  All the facecloths were neatly folded into quarters and stacked beautifully, same with the towels and other linens. It looked so nice. I was most impressed and have vowed to always keep it so, or at least try.

There is a kind of simple elegance in using and cleaning household linens.  Clothes, sheets, towels, curtains and kitchen items always look better when they're well cared for. When I see them in homes I visit, fresh and neatly stored away, especially when they hold a certain age to them, I get the feeling there is a lot of love in that home.

It is not a bad goal to want to keep these things just so  . . . a bit of time and some consistency. Oh yes, I can be lazy. I need to be more organized.

Household washing used to be done at the riverside, a community chore. A time for women to gather and share as they worked away.  What was a chore of drudgery became almost holy in the sharing of it with each other. As they worked and scrubbed the dirt away, they talked and laughed and sometimes, yes even cried . . .  together. Again  . . .  community.  I think somehow the sharing of these chores made them a bit easier to bear.

(source)

Cindy and I took an impromptu trip up to Pelton's yesterday afternoon. Dad's friend Maryann has gone to Quebec with her daughter to visit family so the usual trip to the Mall was not on. She took Dad in town to Tim Hortons instead so while he was there we went up the mountain to  Pelton's.  I had been hoping that they would have some bread, but alas, there was none, but we did get eggs.  And a few other bits. He was just bringing in freshly canned salsa so we each picked up a jar of that. Cindy had been wanting some ground beef, as had I, but they didn't have any.  They always carry the best locally sourced grass fed ground beef. They are not sure if they are going to carry it any longer or not. It has gotten so expensive. We assured him that we did not mind paying more for something that was sustainable and of better quality. So much better than the supermarket ground beef. At least the one that they were selling came from only a few animals rather than thousands.  I am hoping that they reconsider and get some more in.  Their chicken is also really good. They are going to have fresh bread in today and we have asked them to set aside some for us (white and brown) so we will be going back to pick up that and I think I will get some chicken as well. It's always so good. Never tough.

Plus this is Cindy's weekend off from cooking so I will be cooking Sunday dinner for Eileen and myself and I think I might like some chicken.  We will see what they have. Maybe even a nice roast chicken. We will see. It will be Canadian Thanksgiving two weeks from now so that will be a big roast dinner in and of itself. We will probably stay home as Eileen will  be recovering from her operation.

 

(source)

I don't have a lot more to share this morning. I will be picking Eileen up about noon and we will make our little trip to the grocery store so she can get her snacks for movie night and some drinks.  We haven't decided which movie we are going to watch yet. We have all day to figure it out.

So, in the meantime I will leave you with a thought for the day, to carry with you  . . . 

☾ ° ★° * 。  

• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*I walk among the rows at dawn

The dew still clings, the world feels drawn.

Each leaf a prayer, each bloom a sign,

That peace can root in hands like mine.

~Thackery

 

 

I am breaking away from the sweet today with Open Face Garlic Bread Sloppy Joes.  Simple. Hearty. Delicious. Another small batch recipe.

I hope that you have a really nice weekend. Its cloudy here and I believe they are calling for rain.  In any case whatever you get up to, I hope it brings you peace and joy.  Don't forget! 

═══════════ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ═════════════ 

⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

═══════════ ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ ════════════  

And I do too!