A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a single moment from the week
A simple, special extraordinary moment.
A moment to pause, savor and remember.
Participating with the SouleMama blog
Of all the months of all the year old March has them all beat.
First we suffer from the cold, then we suffer from the heat.
The wind it huffs and puffs around. The rain falls all day,
But then at night it snows and snows and never stops to play.
Next morning out pops the sun and melts the snow, and then
The children all come running out ready for play again.
The east wind takes a look and thinks, “Now I’ll have some fun.”
He picks up the boys hats and says, “Now watch them run.”
He tosses all the kites around away off through the sky.
And then he laughs, how he can make the little girls to cry.
Oh yes! Old March is full of fun, he keeps us on the go.
First we are wading through the mud, then plowing through the snow.
So of all the months of all the year, we like old March the best.
He keeps us guessing all the time and never lets us rest.
— by Lena Gertrude Dixon Wiles, our Grandmother
The barn lane – as water feature – small rivulets of running water and large, deep puddles, produced by the recent snow melt and rain
Robins! and green – well much more brown than green – grass!
Tiny daffodil buds – planted long ago by our great, great grandparents – in front of their original house, down by the barn.
Lush, thick, and very green moss – uncovered this weekend as the snow pack slowly receeds into memory