Owl music, and a musical veggie

 

Dear blog,

I just wanted to stop in and say hi.

Hi.

Today was a nice day. A slow sleepy day. And the the sunset was so misty, and beautiful. The green fields of alfalfa, the light shining through the leaves on the trees, making them glow.

I was painting again and another family came across the way, to be photographed. So I got serenaded by the lovely sounds of children. Some happy sounds, and some sad.  And a dad and mom trying very hard to get their kids to smile, and laugh, so they could take a nice picture. 

Bess would come out, and talk to me while I was painting, and poke food at me. She handed me a date with peanut butter.  She loves peanut butter. On everything.

And it is pretty good on many things. 

She also cooks up onions nearly everyday, and smothers them in cheese. Or maybe I'm the one who smothers them in cheese. 

We both love onions and cheese. It's very good.

The family being photographed was there for nearly the entire time I was painting. And I felt a little sorry for the kids, and wondered if I should go over there with a cat, or some thing to help them smile, instead of cry.  

So, in my short post. I thought I'd share a little video of my sister’s carrot penny whistle she reinstated in honor of doing a program for bird Center. And it was really cute. All the old people were so tickled to hear a carrot make music.

And so I suppose if a carrot can make music, there is hope for us all.

A carrot sounds quite beautiful.

A musical garden.

Veggies. All with potential music inside of them.

I was also going through my different saved files, and found this one, I wrote July 22 this year. And thought I'd share it here. 

 

 

Owl poetry

 

Where has my poetry gone?

Drifted somewhere on the wind.

Caught by another’s muse.

Poetry come back to me.

Oh bird, of song, and love, and music.

Where did’st thou fly?

Bird of thought, bird of my soul’s sky.

I search for you within myself.

And look, but cannot find.

Bird why hast thou stopped singing?

Ah...

Tis night.

Where birds sit still, and few stir.

But one bird.

Still makes a song.

Sing, dear owl.

Say a word.

Speak your wisdom, and tell me what you see.

Speak your owl poetry to me.

Within the folds of darkness, and evenings tranquility.

You who watch within the dark, you who travel under the star’s and the moons natural spark.

Sing your song, and hoot to me.

Say something true, sing the night away.

Owl.

Seek, and pray.

Find the path.

Fly, and look.

And tell me what you see.

Owl wisdom.

A song written for me.

You turn your head, and see in dark.

Owl

If your eyes could compose a song. It would show me, the night’s beauty, a star-spangled emporium.

The light.

Within.

a spark.