Holiday Scents

“The smell of pine needles, spruce and the smell of a Christmas tree – those to me, are the scents of the holidays.” — Blake Lively *   *   * Pine cones, new and old — Photo by Mary O’Connor © 2017    

Fantasia

“The nutcracker sits under the holiday tree, a guardian of childhood stories. Feed him walnuts and he will crack open a tale…” — Vera Nazarian   Store windows decorated for the holidays are annual highlights of New York City’s retailers. Saks Fifth Avenue chose this year to bring the Grimm Brothers’ tale of Snow White … More Fantasia

Comfort

“Strange to see how a good dinner and feasting reconciles everybody.” — Samuel Pepys *   *   * Dinner, plain and simple — Photo by Mary O’Connor © 2017

Fiddling Around

“It may not be irrelevant to note that even the very modest forms of life, like earthworms, dung beetles and fiddler crabs, have no real problems they must deal with if they are to survive.” — Edward Goldsmith   “The necessary fiddling about and moving things can be greatly facilitated by a bit of forethought.” — … More Fiddling Around

Scavenging

“The day is gone and all its sweets are gone.” — John Keats   *   *   * Canada Geese picking over the harvested cornfield — Photo by Jan Logozzo © 2017

Thanksgiving

“Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother’s house we go…”   May this day be just one of many, many more to be thankful for! A Happy Thanksgiving to all! *   *   * Thanksgiving poem by Lydia Maria Child — Photo by Mary O’Connor © 2017  

Community Life

“One of the pleasant things about small town life is that everyone, whether rich or poor, liked or disliked, has some kind of role in the community.” — Edward Abbey *   *   * Main Street, Essex, Connecticut — Photo by Mary O’Connor © 2017

Relax

“I believe that if you truly understand the importance of relaxation, you will make time for it in your schedule.” — Gudjon Bergmann *   *   * Morning Break — Photo by Mary O’Connor © 2017

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders’ fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place: and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In … More In Flanders Fields