Hello World!

I now have my own blog, it'll kinda be like my online, but edited, journal so to speak :) it'll be fun, and I am excited!! so to start things off I will warn you right off the bat! I am an eccentric, crazy, fun loving person, but I do have my own opinions and I will let you know how I feel about things :) so on that note... welcome to my blog!

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believe that man will not merely endure. He will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance." ~William Faulkner~

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Angel Tears



"We shall find peace. We shall hear angels. We shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds."
--Anton Chekov

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The small girl watched as the casket was lowered into the earth. Slowly the black and grey clad congregation left the cemetery, leaving roses by the grave. Soon they had all disappeared into the mist. The little girl was still there, staring at the flowers glistening with the drops of rain splashing on the petals. The young very inexperienced preacher walked slowly, eyeing the girl. He had never seen her before, normally he would have gone over and talked to her but he was in a slightly fowl mood. He turned to walk up the hill to the church house.
"Why does it always have to rain at these things?" The preacher whispered to himself.
"The Angels" The preacher turned, stunned to see it was the girl who had spoken. She looked up at him with deep, clear black eyes, her ebony hair framing her porcelain face. The preacher stopped ascending the hill.
"Beg your pardon" he tried to be polite, but his voice still had a edge that only slightly masked his mood
"When it rains... The Angels are crying" Her voice caressed every word that came from her rosebud mouth. The preacher raised an eye brow. "Why would they be crying?" He almost snapped. The girl smiled gently
"Why must mortals always think of death as an ending... The Angels are welcoming back one of their own. They cry with tears of joy for the return of an Angel who has gone through the trials of birth and death... Do not be sad for your father, he is with his own kind" The young preacher gasped "Who are you?" The girl smiled and began to turn away "Do not worry for your father, he is safe with me..."
The preacher started after the girl but he tripped, he landed on his side. He quickly got up and looked around for the girl, but she was no where to be seen.


"He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of Angels."
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Thursday, July 15, 2010

Trust and spring....

"I believe everything happens for a reason. people change so you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you'll eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together" -Marilyn Monroe

This is a wonderful quote but there is one thing that I think I need to say something about....
Only trusting yourself? we're all human therefore we make mistakes.... The trust of our friends is something we can't live without, there is always someone we can trust. lying doesn't do anything... but it does is show us who we can truly trust.


Anyway Here are some recent pictures that show whats been going on around here. The miracles of spring are so precious, I love watching the baby fawns fallowing their mothers and the flowers blooming. It just reminds us that even in theses horrible times, there is still some beauty and innocence in this crazy world.‎
Take the time to walk barefoot in the grass, watch a mama bird feed her chick. And remember Gods love, send a thank you to our father for this wonderful earth he gave us.

"Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair." ~Kahlil Gibran~



























‎"I believe that man will not merely endure. He will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance." ~William Faulkner~

Monday, July 12, 2010

Frog Prince



I see a little frog hopping from stone to stone in the stream next to my horse field. The sun is shinning through the leaves of the branches above my head sending the light like paint splatters on the water. The little frog has gold flecks on his back and his head, he stops to inspect a dragonfly perching lazily on an over hanging weed.
What happen to all the frog princes in the world? I wonder as I carefully scoop up the little frog. I look him in the eye, he has beautiful eyes I notice. What happened to all the good ones? Well?...
I carefully set him next to me on a wet boulder peaking up from the stream, pretty velvet green moss grow up it's sides. Instead of hopping away, my little friend stays by my side... still eyeing the dragonfly sunning its lacy wings.
A new thought comes to my mind... Maybe us girls are just getting to picky. Maybe the princes didn't go anywhere, Maybe it's just that these days us girls arn't willing to kiss the frogs to find our hidden prince... so we just go with the ones that are already available, fast and easy right? But not worth it. Maybe all of the real princes have all been turned into frogs by the world, our society. And us girls are just not willing to take the time to kiss the little frog with the big golden heart. Maybe thats it.
I look down at the hidden prince to see him finally leap at the dragonfly that had been teasing him. As he leaps the dragonfly lazily flies off the weed and up into the sky above, my poor little prince lands in a dry patch off weeds. I go over and pick him out of the weeds ands set him back on a stone in the middle of the stream. I look up to see the sun setting over the hills in the distance. I hear my mom calling from the house, I look down at my little friend. He winks at me right before he splashed into the water. I can't help but smile.... I'll come find you later my little frog prince