Morning thoughts . . .

The morning comes, the drops of dew 

Hang on the grass and bushes too. 

The sheep more eager bite the grass 

Whose moisture gleams like drops of glass; 

The heifer licks in grass and dew 

That make her drink and fodder too. 

The little bird his morn-song gives, 

His breast wet with the dripping leaves, 

Then stops abruptly just to fly  

 

And catch the wakened butterfly, 

That goes to sleep behind the flowers 

 Or backs of leaves from dews and showers. 

The yellow-hammer, haply blest, 

Sits by the dyke upon her nest; 

The long grass hides her from the day, 

The water keeps the boys away.
 

 

The morning sun is round and red

As crimson curtains round a bed.

 The dewdrops hang on barley horns

As beads the necklace thread adorns,

The dewdrops hang wheat-ears upon

Like golden drops against the sun.

Hedge-sparrows in the busy cry ‘tweet’,

O’er nests larks winnow in the wheat,

Till the sun turns gold and gets more high,

And paths are clean and grass gets dry,

And longest shadows pass away.

And brightness is the blaze of day.

~Morning, by John Clark 

The carly morning is my favourite time of the day. It is so quiet, at least until the sun starts to come up. It’s a time when I can be with my own thoughts, and not have to worry about anyone else. My brain is at its best early in the morning. That's when I do my best thinking and writing. It’s also a time when I can pray, in peace and quiet  . . . a one on one conversation, just God and myself.

It is a time for me.

On warmer mornings,  I might  go and sit in the garden. The air is so fresh and the grass still damp from the night-time dew. Little beads of it cling to my toes, along with errant bits of dry grass and leaves.

It is a privilege to be there and hear the earth awakening, to listetn to the soulful song she sings. Who thinks the earth does not speak is deaf . . .  for she surely speaks to me.

  

There is a tender sigh in the sun that slowly peeks above the horizon and begins to bathe the earth's skin in it’s golden glow and gentle warmth. There is the tickle of a laugh in the whisper of the breeze that dances upon the tops of the hedgerows and brushes against the leaves just so. She smiles at me in birdsong, and cloaks me in her peace. There is no other time of day just like it.

Early morning . . .  it is a gift to you and to me. 

 

What a week it has been.  Earlier this week I discovered a site that has been scraping all of my content from my food blog.  Photography, words, recipes, etc. I've had to spend hours this week compliling lists of all that they have stolen from me with links, etc.  Plus I had to do an identical list with links of  all of my original content to compare. Its a lot of work trying to get these sites taken down.  I'll let you know how it goes, but I can tell you its been quite distressing!   I need to figure out how I can prevent this from happening in the future! 

I will leave you with a thought for today  . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
 *If your actions inspire others to

dream more, learn more, do more

and become more, you are a leader.

~John Quincy Adams•。★★ 。* 

 

I don't have anything new to share with you today in the kitchen, but I can share what I was cooking last year about this time.  Blackberry Bakewell Pudding. Yummy yummy!  

Have a wonderful day.  The sun is shining here, so far at any rate!  Don't forget! 

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And I do too!