Sunday, November 4, 2012

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers

 Sterling, Botswana Agate

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

Emily Dickinson


  1. Emily Dickinson and a beautiful totem. What could be better than that on a Sunday! I so love your totems, Tina.

    Daylight savings is finally over, soup is on the stove, hubs is out raking leaves (so our elderly neighbor doesn't have a conniption when an errant leaf dares cross the invisible 'barrier' and land on his lawn *ha*), and I finally have a standing work station for my office, which means oxygen no longer stagnates at my butt... The smallest pleasures so often bring the greatest delight.

    Hope your Sunday held some simple pleasures, too.


  2. Mmm..the perfect day for soup! Butternut squash soup over here tonight..we're in the midst of building a wee cabin @ Five Maples! Hurray! As for your neighbor..your neighbor and mine should meet sometime..ha! xo

    1. Oh, a wee cabin in your woods would be magical. How utterly exciting! have one, too! If I can find it, I'll email a photo of the leaf blowing job our neighbor does every year. It so makes me want to ruffle his feathers, but I don't (mostly because I imagine my mum looking over my shoulder)! =)

      Have a great week, Tina.