Friday, November 30, 2007


By: Emily Dickinson
"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.
I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea,
Yet never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

scenes from my 49th birthday party

My favorite present? A hand painted acrylic original by Lynn Culp of my wonderful dog, Diamond. LOVE it. She is a professional animal painter. I went to art school with her 30 years ago & we are still greast friends! CHECK OUT HER SITE!

Truvey's baby rooster (very very tame) loves the birthday cake too...)

leroy, barb and truvey

Roscoe meets Diamond for the first time with a kiss!
  • Not everyone could show.... because of sickness or work.... but the company was good plus great animal entertainment. Truvey is a "chicken whisperer" and has a gift with bird life. He is the guy with the baby rooster. I plan to live another 49 years but refuse to turn 50 HA HA. The gray haired man is my dear friend Leroy, he is lucky because he gets to retire in 2 years.... and the gal is my good friend Barb.