I started my Sunday Stroll (suggested by Aisling just click on her name) and I noticed this stunning yellow fire hydrant. I'm sort of glad it isn't in MY yard.
The neighbors who live here, have been working on their roof and I thought they were just replacing rotting shingles, but I was delighted to see this balcony they added. I like to think that someone poetic comes out here at night and dreams big dreams. Notice the glass balls.
I have never seen people come in or go out of this house, but it is always dressed so festively and is always in perfect repair. It's a favorite of mine.
Let's stop and look down at the creek. Maybe we'll see a muskrat. I've only seen one, but let's hope!
Almost home! Hello, pretty tree!
And here's the poem I promised Aisling. It's a gift to her for her good idea of a bunch of Sunday strolls. I hope you'll go and take the other strolls, linked on her comments.
by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.