“Trudeau is finally leaving” | Pierre Poilievre reacts to resignation an...

Pierre Poilievre is so RIGHT!

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Bat and The Great Pumpkin -The House with Nobody In it

BAT , CHICKEN SOUP AND THE ARTIST'S BRACKET BEFORE IT WAS PAINTED


Hubby made the homemade soup and I have taken a liking to adding lemon juice, olive oil, and freshly grated ginger, pepper and sea salt. Amazing taste and so good for you.

Bat and The Great Pumpkin 

♥️ This is my dream home, a small cottage surrounded by farmland , forest and nature.

A Little Easter Egg- a scarecrow in the cabbage patch with spent sunflowers behind the smaller conk

Bat discovers The Door To The Secret Garden

The House with Nobody In it - Until now

The House with Nobody In it


Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it. 

I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two. 

This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside. 

If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free. 

Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known. 

But a house that has done what a house should do,
a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet. 

So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart. 

by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER






This poem is in the public domain.

Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886 – 1918) is best known for his poem, "Trees," but he actually produced quite a large volume of work. Had his life not ended so tragically early, many believe he would have developed into one of America's great poets. Joyce married young and fathered five children even as he was establishing himself as a teacher, writer, and lecturer. While coping with the illness of one of their children, Joyce and his wife converted from the Episcopal faith to Catholocism and he ultimately became the leading Catholic poet of his time. When World War I broke out, Joyce enlisted and had contracted to write a book about his war experiences. Unfortunately, he was killed on a French battlefield before he ever even began the book; he was only 31 when he died. Interesting side note: Joyce's father worked for Johnson & Johnson and is credited with inventing that company's famous baby powder.

WEAR A POPPY... REMEMBER ME

A little poppy is a salute to honour those who served for our freedom. One poppy for two hearts.

"They paid the ultimate price for your freedom. You live your life the way you do because of them."

The Cat Got Sick - Happy Halloween 🎃

THE CAT GOT SICK... TOO MANY TREATS

THE HALLOWEEN TREE

HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃

HAPPY BIRTHDAY,M🧡🐾🐾🧡🎃

HAPPY BIRTHDAY , M! 

LOVE, MOM, DAD ,TY, MAGGIE AND BAT 🧡🧡🎃🧡🧡 🐾🐾🐾🐾

 

" DOES DOG URINE REALLY KILL TREES "

DOES DOG URINE REALLY KILL TREES

We love dogs, cats and trees.

We originally had a Chicago Hackberry Tree in our front yard when we moved to Equinelle, unfortunately the tree was compromised. 

Repeated hits of dog urine peeled the bark off the tree and caused an open wound susceptible to disease. Then, a windstorm hit last year and the tree snapped in half. It was too weak and diseased to fight the wind and died. 

A new tree recently was planted in place of the Chicago Hackberry, a Burrr Oak, but the problem remains. Dogs are already favouriting the tree. It will not be long before even the oak, known to live up to 150-250 years, can survive the burns caused by dog urine. 

I would love this little tree to grow to old age. One way I can help it grow is to make dog owners aware of the potential harm of dog urine to trees. 

Please, pet owners out there, take care when walking your pet.

Below is an excerpt from : MERRILL DOG PARK 





"It’s easy to think, “a little pee from my dog can’t do harm to a huge tree.” Next time you go for a walk with your dog think about it. Your dog “marks” the tree, then another dog walks by smells your dog’s scent and hits it again, a few minutes later and another dog walks by, hits it again. This goes on multiple times a day 365 days a year. Some trees are hit more than others and the cycle begins. One dog’s scent ends up on a tree and other dogs just keep marking it, over and over until the tree is compromised."

Written by Christine MacLean



If interested in the article here is the link.



https://merrilldogpark.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/click-here-to-learn-more-about-why-dog-pee-is-harsh-on-trees.pdf

1949, sitting on the rooftop on an Autumn night 🎃 Oldies playing in anot...

HALLOWEEN AUTUMN AMBIANCE - NEMO'S DREAMSCAPES

Fall, Leaves, Fall
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night's decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

Analysis (ai): The poem "Fall, Leaves, Fall" by Emily Jane Bronte presents a distinct meditation on the changing seasons and the cyclical nature of life and death. The speaker accepts the passing of summer and the onset of autumn, finding solace in the beauty of the falling leaves and the promise of snow.

Compared to Bronte's other works, this poem is relatively concise and straightforward, lacking the complex symbolism and emotional intensity of her later poetry. Yet, it shares her themes of mortality, isolation, and the enduring power of nature, which would become central to her writing.

As a product of the Victorian era, the poem reflects the prevailing Romantic sensibility, which emphasized introspection, melancholy, and a fascination with the natural world. The speaker's acceptance of the changing seasons aligns with the Romantic belief in the inevitability of change and the beauty inherent in decay.

The poem's simple yet effective imagery creates a vivid picture of the transition from autumn to winter. The falling leaves and shortening day evoke a sense of loss and inevitability, while the promise of snow and the "drearier day" suggest both the passage of time and the potential for renewal.

SUNFLOWERS IN THE SNOW

No filter, just my phone, the garden, the scarecrow and, the sunflowers in the snow.

THE SCARECROW 

All winter through I bow my head

beneath the driving rain; the North Wind powders me with snow

and blows me black again;
at midnight 'neath a maze of stars
I flame with glittering rime,
and stand above the stubble, stiff
as mail at morning-prime.
But when that child called Spring, and all
his host of children come,
scattering their buds and dew upon
these acres of my home,
some rapture in my rags awakes;
I lift void eyes and scan
the sky for crows, those ravening foes,
of my strange master, Man.
I watch him striding lank behind
his clashing team, and know
soon will the wheat swish body high
where once lay a sterile snow;
soon I shall gaze across a sea
of sun-begotten grain,
which my unflinching watch hath sealed
for harvest once again.

-WALTER DE LA MARE

We planted more sunflowers this year and will keep them through the winter for birds, squirrels and the snow.They are lovely and always give me inspiration for a painting. I would like to paint another scarecrow with sunflowers in the snow only larger this time. This painting has been claimed by my daughter. It reminds her of her garden.

Moving to Scotland - I followed my heart ⌘ Relocating ⌘ Buying a Seaside...

The Scottish Fairy KERSTIN MCKINNON living in an enchanted dream world ♥️ 

Maggie, look at the Moon, Isn't she beautiful?

"I live in that solitude which is painful in youth, 

but delicious in the years of maturity." _ Albert Einstein 

Alone, in a room, painting, writing, creating. A quiet place where there is nothing there to interrupt your thoughts. I get up early most days while everyone else in the house is sound asleep. Usually, around the hours of 2 - 4 a.m. A lambent spotlight shines on the painting I work on, a perfect light for creating a spooky mood. The slightest sounds I make summon Bat and Maggie downstairs to watch me paint. In the solitude of an early morning, just me with my cats, my painting and a cup of coffee is wonderful.


LATEST WORK

Maggie, look at the Moon, Isn't she beautiful?

Acrylic painting on wood board 2024 - Anna

Bewitching Moon


Over the top of the mountains the moon
Rose unexpectedly
In the sky it drifted,
A bird, a fairy!
Blown out, round and sweet
Melon-like!
It danced in the sky
Impassioned
In the fragrant night,
Lighting every road,
Making my head swim,
My senses dazed.
Did I dream?
Did I really see you?
You fell into the well
Like the declining sun.
Moon, wink at me
Bright Moon, magic moon
The mirror of the loving girl,
Peep out at the balcony!

Patrizia Gattaceca

BLUE MOON - THE MARCELS

BLUE VELVET

Do you ever feel the urgency to rush to the local thrift store with thoughts a treasure is waiting, for you inside? Well, last Saturday, I got the feeling. When I arrived in the parking lot and parked the car, I couldn't get out of the car fast enough and quickly realized that moment I was being silly with my thoughts. I was wrong! I did find a treasure and the black velvet maxi opera coat someone else was trying on, just like the one I owned in the early eighties, I missed by mere moments.

So I drove home with my treasure, a blue Victorian cup and saucer and resumed painting my landscape. 

I was dreaming in blue today. Blue velvet and Black velvet, and so, my colours of the landscape, and suddenly, this song popped inside my head: Bluer than velvet was the night. Wow, It's been a long time since I heard this oldie. This song takes me back to the early sixties when I was a little girl. Music brings back memories. Some music lingers in our heads forever, timeless, waiting for something to bring it back to life. My painting did that to me. WIP

Blue Velvet

She wore blue velvet

Bluer than velvet was the night
Softer than satin was the light
From the stars
She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet were her eyes
Warmer than May, her tender sigh
Love was ours
Ours, a love I held tightly
Feeling the rapture grow
Like a flame burning brightly
But when she left gone was the glow of Blue velvet But in my heart there'll always be
Precious and warm a memory through the years
And I still can see blue velvet through my tears

Blue Velvet -Bobby Vinton  

Blue Velvet - Lana Del Rey

HAUNTED WALK

HAUNTED WALK - WIP

Dark and moody. A love for vintage, a passion for old, old anything, old houses, old graveyards, old clothes, old velvet and old lace. A nostalgic yearning for souvenirs from the past. To be surrounded by the antiquity of yesterday, now gone and long. Secret gardens that never sleep, filled with purple, blue, white, and silver under a white moon, intoxicated by their fragrance drifting on the night air. Deep, dark forests hidden away from the world, enchantingly haunted. I dream of escaping the world, finding my gothic fairytale cottage before I die and eventually passing it on to my kids. Meanwhile, I paint my dreams.

I just watched  Steffi/Moda Misfit on YouTube and watched two of her videos. Whimsigoth Decor and Dark Cottagecore Decor, I adore both of these styles.
I love painting on old wood, incorporating my artwork in old vintage frames and bringing the past into the present. I believe my art follows these vibes.  

OLD LOVE - Some Oldies I did 

SOLD