BOB & ROSE TOGETHER

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SEPTEMBER SONG...

It was fine-wine September

blue-and-gold September

burnished-leaf September

when I wed my own true love.

And the air was warm and veiled

with the fine September sunshine

and the young boys flung down rosebuds

when I wed my own true love.

And I locked my arm in his arm

and we raced away together

and the sunshine turned to cloudburst

when I wed my own true love.

And we wandered 'round like gypsies

and we laughed a lot together

and we didn't think of duties

'til our pennies disappeared.

Then we turned our wheels homeward

and we settled in our farmhouse

and began our world together

me and me true love.

And the years brought joy and sorrow

and we walked through both united

and I've always loved September

when I wed my own true love.

From Rose to Bob, Sept. 10 2009,

49th anniversary

A HALLELUIAH TO SEPTEMBER ...

SEPTEMBER MORN,,,

    SEPTEMBER! It's my favorite month! 

    In fact, that's why I chose September for my wedding day so many years ago, and then I had good reason through my years to love September even more.

    September is the year matured. September opens up my eyes and elevates my spirits. September mornings drape the countryside with other-worldly morning mists and shadows... 
    September's daytime skies are mostly brilliant. Her sunny afternoons are fragrant with the rich aromas of ripening apples, wild berries, grapes and grasses. With a changing angle of the sun, she lays a mellowness upon our fields, lawns and gardens. And her wildflowers lend a bright nobility to dusty roadsides.

     If each day in sweet September sinks a little sooner into darkness, so be it! September compensates in full with spectacular sunsets and cooler, quieter nights; and September moonlight is the most benevolent of any of the 12 moons of the year. 
     IF I'VE HAD COMPLAINT about September, it has been the threat of early frosts to kill the flowers in my gardens. But even that no longer bothers me. For it gives the elder Rose a seasonal respite from lawn and garden work. As the autumn of my human years advances, that respite is ever-more appreciated. 

     I admit, September weather sometimes lets me down. But in the ledgers of my memory, by far, September's assets far outnumber any of its imperfections.
     I love the seasons of the year for different reasons. But if God would tell me, "Choose your favorite month to be your season in the after-life," He knows which I would choose: SEPTEMBER! 
  

A MAN AND HIS DOG... GONE WEST...

A MAN AND HIS DOG: GONE WEST
MY DOG AND MICK





Today would have been a birthday for Bob. I took this photo some years ago near the Fairport Beach when Mick was a young pup in training. By 2017, Bob was gone from this earth, and Mick was a very large doberman who would meet his master a year later on the Rainbow Bridge. We have fun, special memories of both.

Their mischievous spirits still roam in places they loved, and Bob's spirits still speak every year in his favorite perennials.

                                                                   

AFTER THE DAYS OF THE STORMS ...

Every leaf and blade is soaked this morning. Noting is moving. It's oddly quiet after days of storm. 

I sit on the porch with my coffee, and finally the cicada begin to buzz very quietly, but still no sight or sound of a bird or a bee or a butterfly or a critter of any size or sort. 

Everything in nature is tired and sleepy from the storms, it seems. Even we people!

THE CLOSEST I CAMETO SUNSHINE EARLY THIS MORNING...

AUGUST MORNING WALK-ABOUT AT DAWN ...

SMALL SPOTS OF BEAUTY

MORING ANGEL

LIGHT UP THE DAY

MAMMATUS CUMULUS

ON THIS SUNRISE WALK-ABOUT, AS ALWAYS, I THANK THE LORD FOR SMALL FAVORS AND SMALL SPOTS OF BEAUTY,, AND THE ABILITY TO NOTICE AND APPRECIATE...

THE BIG TREES AROUND ME BRING MEMORIES ...

AUGUST MEMORY...
"A favorite memory of summer from my childhood, I think, is one of climbing up into a spread-armed maple tree where none could see me hidden in the thickness of the leaves. And in that coolness, privacy and peace, I would open the book I had carried, and alone and quiet I would read.
An August never passes but what that memory revisits me. It did so this morning as I waited for the first rays of sun through the trees that surround me. The thing is, at my age now, I know I could not climb a tree if I tried"~~Rose Moore

SUNRISE ...

52 DEGREES AT DAWN... 
SUNRISE WARMED HER SHOULDERS WITH A FEATHERY BOA...
A BEAUTIFUL BLUE-EYED SUNDAY LIES AHEAD.