“Trade me a memory,” the butterfly said
A memory that’s heavy and harsh,
And I’ll sit and I’ll listen and try my sweet best
To lighten the load on your heart.
From a poem by Becky Hemsley+Art by Amanda Cass
Butterfly 🦋 Memory
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Tag Archives: art
Magical Places
“Magical places are always beautiful and deserve to be contemplated.
Always stay on the bridge between the invisible and the visible.”
Paolo Coelho
This is heavenly…no phones, no social media, no distractions; simply a butterfly-filled meadow alongside a sunshiny, babbling brook.
This pic reminds me of one of my favorite songs by (who else) Leon Russell, Down On Deep River. It evokes the perfect, serene mood…
“Hear the crickets singing for a mile
And the sound of the bullfrogs make you smile
So lead me beside the still waters
Let me love you down on deep river.
Won’t you sit by my side
And hold to my hand and love me all the way?
And we’ll leave all the highways far behind
And just take a little blanket with the wine.”
Pull At My Heartstring
A little timeline cleanse right now seems appropriate. At the end of the day, there is only love.
Time As a Construct
Lately, I’ve been thinking about T-I-M-E. Time flies. I hate to be late; I like to be ON TIME. Does time really exist at all or have we been brainwashed to think iit does?
Too much thinking about time as ephemeral makes me anxious. Too much thinking about anything does the same thing. My non-logical mind has determined that TIME itself isn’t the issue; THINKING about it IS and it makes my brain melt, just like Dali’s clocks.
“Time doesn’t exist, clocks exist. Time is just an agreed upon construct.”
— David Foster Wallace
“It takes just one unattended moment for an hour to pass.”
― Sherod Santos, Square Inch Hours: Poems
Santos was born in South Carolina, graduated from San Diego State University, and studied at the University of California, Irvine. I never met him when I attended SDSU, but I knew ABOUT him; all of us who studied creative writing and poetry knew about “Rod” Santos and W.S. Merwin and Glover Davis, who was actually my professor.
David Foster Wallace was an acclaimed American writer known for his fiction, nonfiction, and critical essays that explored the complexities of consciousness, irony, and the human condition. Wallace wrote the novel Infinite Jest.
“The Persistence of Memory” is an iconic 1931 surrealist oil painting by Salvador DalĂ, famous for its “melting” clocks draped over a desolate, dream-like landscape inspired by his Catalonian home. The painting uses a paranoiac-critical method to explore the subconscious, with the distorted clocks symbolizing the fluidity and subjectivity of time, influenced by Freudian psychology and potentially Einstein’s theory of relativity. From Google.
Could Leon Russell’s version of As Time Goes By be the best ever? I think so…mature Leon was awesome, too.
Star’s Twinkle
I don’t think I ever knew there were more verses. I’m not sure if this is the original or if someone added to it, but it’s lovely.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are,
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the blazing sun is set,
And the grass with dew is wet,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Then the traveler in the dark
Thanks you for your tiny spark,
He could not see where to go
If you did not twinkle so.
In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye
Till the sun is in the sky.
As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveler in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
The Star by Jane Taylor
Art from Pinterest
The Bluebird Promise
As long as there are bluebirds, there will be miracles and a way to find happiness.
Quote curated from Pinterest: Credit to the writer.
Art by Ida Rentoul Outwaite
Evolution of The Mom Hug
I’m at #3 with Angel Boy, #2 with Angel Girl.
I remember that the original Angel Boy was about fourteen years old when he entered the final stage, taller than me. Now I have to get on my tiptoes to hug him and HE bends down to me.
In my mind, he’s still and forever #1 or #2, so it doesn’t seem right that the roles have reversed, and it won’t be long before the Angel Kids will also be taller than me, because mostly everyone else is.
I guess that’s why they call me Little Grandma.
**I found this on Pinterest, but credit goes to artist Giselle Dekel.**
Beautiful Love
Things are beautiful if you love them. Jean Anouilh
If I could hug my crow family, I would be so happy. The love of an animal is pure and sweet.
Jean Marie Lucien Pierre Anouilh was a French dramatist and screenwriter 1910-1987.
Curated from Rivers in the Ocean / Craft Kreatively
Midsummer Dreams: What Brings Joy?
“Here, beneath this tree, she had lain on her back in the sun and watched the butterflies. Part of her would linger there for ever: a footstep running tip-toe to the creek, the touch of her hand on a tree, the imprint of her body in the long grass. And perhaps one day, in after years, someone would wander there and listen to the silence, as she had done, and catch the whisper of the dreams that she had dreamt there, in midsummer, under the hot sun and the white sky.”
— Daphne du Maurier, Frenchman’s Creek.
Three of my favorites in one painting: a wolf, a raven, and trees. I’d love to curl up and hibernate in a mighty oak guarded by my beloved animal family — to dream of butterflies and seashells and other simple but profound bearers of joy.
enchanted places
If you look, this is where you’ll find me...
They be the Enchanted places.
That whisper our name.
And no one shall know.
These places we go.
A Little Poem by Athey Thompson.
Credit to the artist, curated via Pinterest
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 