August 29, 2014

Continuing Happiness


“Happiness is not determined by what’s happening around you, but rather what’s happening inside you.  Most people depend on others to gain happiness, but the truth is, it always comes from within.”

I’ve seen this quote many times, but it never quite sunk it.  My journey this summer proves this.  There are many twists and turns in the road called life, but the happiness in your soul alone truly uplifts and carries you through the lowest valleys and celebrates the highest mountains.  I hope you had as much as a wonderful summer as I did.

Happy Labor Day!

August 22, 2014

Autumn


As I traveled from New York this week, I noticed the changing of leaves.  It’s coming upon my favorite time of the year, and who better describes it than Emily Dickinson; in her own words.

Have a great week!

Autumn

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.

August 13, 2014

Vacation…Again


Hi!  As you see, I’m posting earlier in the week than I usually do because tomorrow I’m off to New York for another mini vacation.  I wanted to thank you all for following my blog.  It means more than you ever know!

August 8, 2014

A Something in a Summer’s Day


Here’s one of my favorite poems written by Emily Dickinson that represents the waning days of summer.  I hope you enjoy this poem as much as I do.

Everyone have a good weekend!

A SOMETHING in a summer’s day,
As slow her flambeaux burn away,
Which solumnizes me.

A something in a summer’s noon,--
An azure depth, a wordless tune,
Transcending ecstasy,

And still within a summer’s night
A something so transporting bright,
I clap my hands to see;

Then veil my too inspecting face,
Lest such a subtle, shimmering grace
Flutter too far forme.

The wizard-fingers never rest,
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes its narrow bed;

Still rears the East her amber flag,
Guides still the sun along the crag
His caravan of red,

Like flowers that heard the tale of dews,
But never deemed the dripping prize
Awaited their low brows;

Or bees, that thought the summer’s name
Some rumor of delirium
No summer could for them;

Or Artic creature, dimly stirred
By tropic hint, --some travelled bird
Imported to the wood;

Or wind’s bright signal to the ear,
Making that homely and severe,
Contented, known, before

The heaven unexpected came,
To lives that thought their worshipping
A too presumptuous psalm.

August 1, 2014

Beach

I just returned from the beach and had a wonderful time.  Thanks to my friends, I had a beautiful week.  I'll reiterate a philosophy of mine...that summer rocks!

I hope your week was as perfect. 

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