- Ea nameflake pic
- Nameflakes pic
- Bakery carousel Christmas display pic
- Renovation between Old Spital Church and Hospital pic
- Newly renovated gatehouse pic
- Renovation of the old Hospital behind the Schoolhouse pic
- Epiphany~Three King's Day~Orthodox Christmas pic
- Season's Greetings from the Old Schoolhouse 2011 pic
- froggies! pic
- hand painted! pic
- froggies! pic
- alphaville pic
Let me share my happiness as once again I drive a happy car that's spiffy red and shared among my tribe just like back in the good old days when
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Has anyone tried adding a Buzz mini gallery to their website? Look for the option in the right-hand sidebar. Here's mine at beauku where you
A male, but one still immature is to the female similar with dull red-rose upon his head and bodily raspberry bled. In flight, he undulates that we may see his
Bereft of all that was familiar given back in one weekend a feeling that is seldom tendered when you are in foreign lands -- when you dwell where no
What entrance! In through pumpkin light -- unfurled, at ease -- without a caution. Released within -- simply delight in place of synch- chronistic passion. Nat, my lovely partner of 15 years
Pamela gave you a bead like this and pinned it on your cradle. Anna, the quilt to cover you with and Anne brought us a dreidel. A wooden dog
The book looks really good! I love VT's cover and I am pleased with the color and the quality of the photos. It only has
I just released my fourth collection, Advice to a Young Bivouac. Almost every poem in this collection was written to the spirit of a photograph
not a gravestone but I thought it would go well in here just the same, especially since it's just down the road a piece from
an old Jewish cemetery in the Black Forest. The stones date from the mid to late 1800s and are protected, because usually graves don't stand
this is a gravestone at a Pet Cemetery in Florida that someone sent me. It has a poem by Lord Byron inscribed on it. I'm
I dug an old cowpoke up once, as ancient as the plains but he had been buried so long his hands fused with the reins. His horse, it couldn't
There was a little Steinbock with lots of Alpenkraft. She always had a big green herbal box of Asian wrath that endlessly pursued her no matter where she climbed. "I'll get
A winter woodpile under icy boughs might be the fettle needed to arouse the dying embers ever banked around a hope that tinder may sometime be found.
There lives a little chipped enamel stove -- his name is Brownie. He stands outside as sentry in the cold -- his town? Kilarny. He keeps a washtub full
Paisley was a rover, he roved from shore to shore. He didn't fancy boots and so he'd stop when he was sore to warm his four wee paddies and just
Three Kings Day is a holiday here in Germany and the creche of anthroposophical dolls that is in one of the store windows only had
The slope is steep snow gathers in the valleys tapering off the higher the climb below the alleys
I made an apple pie today, I rolled out all the dough and cut a miezi Katze in the top for steam to go. I sprinkled it with
Ice can't be tasted by a tongue when it is kept inside so scoop nests in Achilles' heel of horizontal glide.
Potato masher pattern on ceramic, seen at dawn -- Spanish garlic, onion-shaped in basket, looking on.
Stunningly the oddest marker in the cemetery simply says "Auf Wiedersehen." Ornately cast iron pushed to one side in the overgrown boxwood laden with snow.
A butterfly ~ quite captive within an amber glow distressed a little princess who, baffled, asked a troll, "Who'll release so sweet a thing that he might once more know the
When the earth is laden with a blanket white, stay inside, good maiden -- make a window bright. Four and twenty tissue red and purple balls, encased within a border, black as
Snowflakes are just the flowers growing in an Ice Queen's garden who choose to break away each snowy day before they harden.
I love to watch the snow come down -- I can't wait to go out and slide and build a snowman, make a snow angel and scout around for
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There's a Lamb and there's an Adler and a Linde in every town but you know the dining's finest when Hirsch dons a winter gown. Frohliches Weinachten!
I walk along the city streets I look into the windows I rarely ever enter in though postcards, scarves and lamps glow for what is there to want beyond the
Idun's golden apples hang as those that hung at Eden because the best things do remain. Let's celebrate this evening!
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It's time to take my poodle on a walk this winter day but she just wants to snuggle in my hood and ride this way. It's kind of
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(for Lottie) It's time to fire up the stove and rearrange the cupboards. Time to get the ginger out, the nutmeg, cloves and butter. Mix it up with flour and
I am waiting ever waiting to share my colors shed my fears but the world is full of others busy waiting to shed theirs.
Paper hearts and paper stars -- cut them out and send them far away to family and friends. That way, when the season ends our love may remind, reopen by
hearts of cookies hanging from the ribbons slender red along beside the horns and swords make up my dreaming bed the man who weighs the peanuts wraps them up
Another Christmas rolls around and finds me in another town but when the tree of life is raised it's you I think of. Friends be praised.
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The nixies swimming in this fountain where this lion's standing guard camouflage themselves by daylight but it isn't very hard to imagine how these goldfish love to taunt a stone
I'm dreaming of a Christmas Day in lands I do not know -- in countries that are far away where I may never go. I wish that all the
The pharmacy's hot water bottles double as a Christmas bauble! Just to see their red, green, yellows warms us like a pair of bellows.
In the pharmacy of life we're propelled by our own passion to pursue a course of fate or a course of our own fashion. We may play the cat
We have a little snuggle pet -- his name is Sam I Am. Well, really, it is Old Samhain but I always forget. He snuggles in the bed with
The reading woman disappears into the recesses of years emerging fully, brandishing the knowledge that lies languishing for those who do not take the chance to act upon their
Foundation garment to uphold what never dared to be so bold in former glory days when told to stand up straight and to withhold.
All is vanity was writ long before this fan was hit so do not read behind my back to compensate for all the lack for those who turned the
(March 30, 2005 for Van Gogh on his birthday) They say that you went crazy in the process through the years of your becoming what we now reflect upon in canvas
Entrance into Wood With scarce my reason, with my fingers, with slow waters slow flooded, I fall to the realm of forget-me-nots, to a mourning air that clings, to a
the stars were in the window when I drew my arrow back I hit a star or two they fall upon the sidewalk where they may inverted sistine
Old mother winter comes out on her broom to sweep summer's excess away with her gloom. Her cries can be heard as she brushes the air with frosty