The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon; And, if the sun looks through, ’tis with a face Beamless and pale and round, as if the moon, When done the journey of her nightly race, Had found him sleeping, and supplied his place. For days the shepherds in the fields may be, Nor mark …
“Now every field is clothed with grass, and every tree with leaves; now the woods put forth their blossoms, and the year assumes its gay attire.” Virgil
My loves. The best birthday present, year after lucky year, are happy times with these kookie, wonderful, hilarious, intelligent, sassy, kind, generous, goofy and incredibly thoughtful rascals. As I blow out the candles for yet another new year’s worth of wishes, you can be sure that I’m also counting my blessings, each and every one. …
m wood pen 
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