Enjoying warmth of little loved ones snuggling close while we watch the drama unfold out on the Kansas prairie.
Right now, I'm just finishing up the second disk of Disneys Little House on the Prairie, with the most interested and empathetic bunch of children I know. So entirely captivated by the struggles and challenges of the early settlers life on the frontier, there was (almost) no couch cushion squabbling. And let me tell you, that is a rare thing indeed. This
Stepping back in time to a simpler life, inspired me to finish up this little embroidery project I've been working on. And thrust forward on a burst of enthusiasm, that is notoriously linked to completing smaller tasks, I am tentatively investigating the possibility of designing that sweater I spoke about earlier. With the help of one of the great masters and advocates of 'winging it", none other than the Elizabeth Zimmerman, oh how I love her bravery. So inspiring!
One of my favorite finds while thrifting or yard saleing, are the vintage and antique books.
Getting the Most Out of Life -an Anthology from Readers Digest, is one of the more beautiful of the books that I own. I keep it on the shelf next to my sewing machine along with a picture of my great grandmother and a little painting of a mushroom and ladybug done by my grandma, to inspire and motivate me in all my creative endeavours.
For today I'll share an excerpt I read when I first held this treasure and cracked open the yellowed pages to peer inside.
Wishing you a Wonder Filled Week, Enjoy your Monday!
Three Days to See
by Helen Keller
"...I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life. Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight; silence would teach him the joys of sound.Now and then I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see. Recently I was visited by a very good friend who had just returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed. "Nothing in particular," she replied.
How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine. In spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud, the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep. I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me. Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song. I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush through my open fingers. To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. To me the pageant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips.
At times my heart cries out with longing to see all these things. If I can get so much pleasure from mere touch, how much more beauty must be revealed by sight. And I have imagined what I should most like to see if I were given the use of my eyes, say, for just three days. "