Goodbye February

This month has been quite the month.  It was bitterly cold during the first part of the month, then we had Valentine's Day, then President's Day, the Academy Awards, and now it is over.  Today, it was approaching 50 degrees and the sun was out, so I hauled out my bike and took a beautiful ride on the river trail!  Ah, sun..giver of life!  But as with everything, moderation.  Sadly, the dilemma we are always fighting.  I think that this quote by Max Muller fits today and this month in general, "A flower cannot bloom without sunshine and a man cannot live without love."  So as February leaves us, it is a reminder to me of two things I cannot live too long without--sunshine and love!  And this February, I'm grateful that I have no shortage of either one.  

I've been wanting for a long time to share some of the poems of my late maternal grandmother, Helen MacDonald Livingston.  She was a wonderful woman, whom I adored as a child.  Before she left us, she left behind beautiful writings. Her poetry speaks to me today more than ever.  Here are two of her poems - one about sunshine and one about love!

                Message Of Spring
Have you heard the song of the meadow lark?
Do list(en) to the message it brings!
With the first warm rays of the sun, hark, hark!
Hear it sing.  It is spring, Oh! It's spring.
A message of spring, the meadow lark brings
It pours forth from its liquid throat,
And where 'er it rings there isn't a thing
But what responds to its joyous note.
The sun peeks out a little more to hear,
The sprouts of grass stir beneath the green,
And perhaps the spring herself loses fear
And trips out to greet the rapturous sound.
So list(en) yourself for the meadow lark's song
And list(en) to the message it brings,
And you will be filled before very long, 
with the wonderful sunshine of spring!

             Love's Coming (or Oscar Night 2011)

 Love comes to some in crimson gown
'Neath brilliant lights of dazzeling town,
With blaring bands, and pomp and show
That she has come, she lets all know.

Love comes to some 'neath country trees.
Her step is muffled by the breeze.
I really can't say what she'd wear.
One hardly knows that she is there.

Tho' some would like the love in red,
I'd choose the quiet one instead:
The love that has quaint, quiet ways.
I think it is the love that stays...

But my, aren't these dresses beautiful?