A delicious mixture of pecans, carrots, wholemeal flour, eggs, cinnamon, ginger, sunflower oil, brown sugar topped with creamy butter, icing sugar and vanilla
- smells heavenly...............
Friday 24 July 2009
Thursday 23 July 2009
Look at your feet.
Look at your feet. You are standing in the sky. When we think of the sky, we tend to look up, but the sky actually begins at the earth.- Diane Ackerman
We had a sunset of a very fine sort.
We had a sunset of a very fine sort. The vast plain of the sea was marked off in bands of sharply-contrasted colors: great stretches of dark blue, others of purple, others of polished bronze; the billowy mountains showed all sorts of dainty browns and greens, blues and purples and blacks, and the rounded velvety backs of certain of them made one want to stroke them, as one would the sleek back of a cat. - Mark Twain
Love is to the heart what the summer is
Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer's year - it brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul. ~Author Unknown
Summer afternoon
Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. ~Henry James
Summer is the time
Summer is the time when one sheds one's tensions with one's clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all's right with the world. ~Ada Louise Huxtable
Shades of Summer Green
Its amazing how many shades of Summer Green there are. Spring green is always that vibrant, virgin green but Summer itself has an intriguing variety of growth rich green and the textures....
Suddenly it's midday.........
and the sun has finally come out to play.
Its burnt a hole in the dull, grey cloud and eventually woken up the kids - who slept late, enjoying their long summer holidays.
Most days so far had been cold, grey and lashing with icy rain, so bookworms they had become. That after an unpleasant week of learning to sail in the bay - in the sodden, drenching rain.
We quickly hustled up some sandwich creations - cheese, chilli, black olives and rushed outside to our tiny, rented, wooden porch - to bask in the glorious rays of light.
After living in the Lands of the North its easy to understand why pagans worshipped the sun (god).
Its burnt a hole in the dull, grey cloud and eventually woken up the kids - who slept late, enjoying their long summer holidays.
Most days so far had been cold, grey and lashing with icy rain, so bookworms they had become. That after an unpleasant week of learning to sail in the bay - in the sodden, drenching rain.
We quickly hustled up some sandwich creations - cheese, chilli, black olives and rushed outside to our tiny, rented, wooden porch - to bask in the glorious rays of light.
After living in the Lands of the North its easy to understand why pagans worshipped the sun (god).
Then followed that beautiful season... Summer....
Then followed that beautiful season... Summer....Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscapeLay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Far, far away in the Summerlands, someone's morning washing dries crisply on a rustic line. Gently drifting in the light breeze, it keeps the seaside hut company under the baking sun.
Though here, on the other side of the world, in the Lands of the North, although it should be summer at this time of year, the sky is sullen grey, with the warmth of the sun hidden.
Strangely bitterly cold for a summer day. Earlier the sun was trying to peek through but the cloud veil was too strong and it soon gave up trying. No early morning patch of sunshine today.
I waited and waited for a patch of golden sun but eventually gave in and so I sit alone, on the tiny porch, in a drizzle sodden chair, sneaking a quick smoke before the rest of the family wakes. Solitude with the early morning birds.
Where is my summer sunbeam? Its always a good reason to take a break and enjoy a smoke in the sun.
But when the suns not there and the smoke has been delayed for ages, waiting patiently for the friendly warmth then in the end the smoke wins and is like an old friend - the only comforter.
Somewhere far, far away the sun bakes the earth and the mielies grow taller reaching for the light.
But not here, not now.
Though here, on the other side of the world, in the Lands of the North, although it should be summer at this time of year, the sky is sullen grey, with the warmth of the sun hidden.
Strangely bitterly cold for a summer day. Earlier the sun was trying to peek through but the cloud veil was too strong and it soon gave up trying. No early morning patch of sunshine today.
I waited and waited for a patch of golden sun but eventually gave in and so I sit alone, on the tiny porch, in a drizzle sodden chair, sneaking a quick smoke before the rest of the family wakes. Solitude with the early morning birds.
Where is my summer sunbeam? Its always a good reason to take a break and enjoy a smoke in the sun.
But when the suns not there and the smoke has been delayed for ages, waiting patiently for the friendly warmth then in the end the smoke wins and is like an old friend - the only comforter.
Already, too soon and almost imperceptibly - its getting darker earlier and I know that winter approaches.
The lands of the North, though, are blessed with those magical long, long sunlit nights where darkness visits only for an hour or two before whispering away to visit somewhere else.
Somewhere far, far away the sun bakes the earth and the mielies grow taller reaching for the light.
But not here, not now.
A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken. ~James Dent
The dawn chorus of singing birds is alive with the joy of life. Hidden from view they launch their souls upon the breeze in lively song. Softly floating it drifts and stirs me from my daze-dreams.
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