ElkFarm Stories

A Daily Dose of Writing

Category: Beauty (page 1 of 2)

Wood Beauty–the Tub and the Entry

This post will be a simple one, the photos doing all the work. Found these pictures recently and thought you’d enjoy them. Imagine the work that went into that tub, and the types of wood.

Below, what a great setting and fabulous view from a lake “cabin”. This is the kind of picture and memory that makes people recall this sense filled scene when they’re away from it. Mostly in the cold seasons? Thanks Ethel.

 

Bone Lake and the Reading Lady

One cool 45 degree morning, steam/ warmth came from the surface of Bone Lake. Later it looked like this when the rain poured.

We traveled to Polk County last week and stayed at a cabin on Bone Lake north of Amery, Wisconsin. The lake wasn’t friendly that much, and it rained intently one entire day. The cabin, however, was cozy and all the cold weather gear we could find was put to use. We drove around the area some days and ventured out on the pontoon a couple times.

The photo below is a statue the front of the Luck Public Library. The Bloomer Public Library has reading kid statues made out of the same material.

Portrait of Someone’s Best Friend

There is nothing like a dog as a companion, and this image I found looks like the picture was taken in a photography studio. That’s all I have to add.

 

Lady Liberty and the Flowers

Just recently a statue was erected  in the Wisconsin Rapids, WI, area. The life-like Statue of Liberty stands close to the sidewalk and the street, across from the State of Wisconsin Office Building. This retired teacher also has wonderful hanging baskets of flowers, and we’ve always meant to stop in and try to find out her secret to those lush and beautiful flowers.. The flowers alone were spectacular, now there’s another attraction.

 

Blue Blue Blueberries

Not a lot to explain or describe, the photo does it all by itself. Recently picked blueberries in Wisconsin somewhere. Thanks, Judy H., for the photo. You can almost taste them.

Just a note to anyone on my street, 7th Street in Port Edwards. If you stop at our place tomorrow and say you saw the blueberries, I’ll give you a 6 pack of anything, within reason, that you ask for. Checking on whether or not the neighbors are opening the blog, esp. after doing a feature on 7th Street and the famous/ infamous Blalock Mansion of fictive lore from 100 years go. My feeling? I won’t have to buy anyone a 6 pack. Up to 3 prizes awarded. Not a joke.

 

Country Roads, Take Me Home

Country sideroad off of Hwy 46, north of Amery, Wisconsin.

Country Roads song made famous by John Denver

Almost heaven, West Virginia
Blue Ridge Mountains
Shenandoah River,
Life is old there
Older than the trees
Younger than the mountains
Blowin’ like the breeze

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads
All my memories gathered ’round her
Miner’s lady, stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine
Teardrops in my eye

I hear her voice
In the mornin’ hour she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
And drivin’ down the road I get a feelin’
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

Take me home, now country roads

The Village Blacksmith

Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate’er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter’s voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.

by William Wadsworth Longfellow in 1840

 

Backyard Deer

We don’t see many deer in our neighborhood, but this one showed up across the street in our neighbor’s yard.  Fully alert and yet relaxed, it snacked on the luscious grasses back there.

 

Little Green Apples

A desperate tree in our churchyard in Nekoosa produces a few apples each year. Here’s part of this year’s crop.

And I wake up in the mornin’
With my hair down in my eyes and she says “Hi”
And I stumble to the breakfast table
While the kids are goin’ off to school…goodbye
And she reaches out ‘n’ takes my hand
And squeezes it ‘n’ says “How ya feelin’, hon?”
And I look across at smilin’ lips
That warm my heart and see my mornin’ sun

And if that’s not lovin’ me
Then all I’ve got to say
God didn’t make little green apples
And it don’t rain in Indianapolis in the summertime
And there’s no such thing as Doctor Seuss
Or Disneyland, and Mother Goose, no nursery rhyme
God didn’t make little green apples
And it don’t rain in Indianapolis in the summertime
And when my self is feelin’ low
I think about her face aglow and ease my mind

Bobby Russell wrote the lyrics, sung by O.C. Smith and others

Wildflowers at a Minnesota Church

My cousin near Nerstrand, MN, with July wildflowers for the special service. Lutheran of course.

“Our church had this week’s Sunday service at the Valley Grove Historic Church near our house. I picked prairie flowers to use in Grandma Olson’s flower basket. She loved providing flowers for church during the summer.” Cousin Linda W.

Just received this and saw on Facebook, will wait a day or two and then ask Linda if I can use her picture. (smiley face)

 

Power and Momentum

In  a European harbor stands this sculpture. If you study it closely you’d swear it was moving.

Lovely Little Arriana

This red springer spaniel is quick as a whip and aware of everything that goes on.  Arriana is a fast learner and a joy to have around the house. We once had a springer spaniel who kept getting out of our backyard enclosure. Couldn’t figure it out, so we looked for holes in the fence and came up empty. In a most stealthy manner I positioned myself out of her view to watch her behind the backyard gate. Sure enough, like an Army Ranger going through an obstacle course, she slowly climbed the welded wire fence, jittery and unsteady. After making it to the top, she jumped over. It was a contest and she figured it out.

I’d be interested in hearing from anyone who has had experiences with this breed.

Actually I got this photo from Pixabay and really like it. If you’re ever searching for good photos, cheap or even free, check the Pixabay site. It would be great to help them with their collection by submitting your best photos, but they have tough standards and aren’t easy to crack.

Popcorn on a Sunday Afternoon

Comfort, nostalgia, and peace of mind.

Have you felt that drowsy feeling when the dinner things are through?

It sort of creeps upon you in spite of all you do.

And there’s nothing that will quell it or dispel it quite as soon

As a dishpan full of popcorn on a Sunday afternoon.

 

Popcorn really has a way of making us feel great.

All the folks forget they’re sleepy when they reach and take a plate.

So remember when it’s snowing on a Sunday afternoon.

Just a dishpan full of popcorn puts the world right back in tune.

=========

Poem by Harold Rowley in a book of Amish recipes. This goes back (notice I resisted using the word hearkens) to a time when Sunday for the Amish and other religious followers meant performing only essential farm chores. Their goal was to “remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.” A simple pleasure that meant so much. Popcorn.

For our family growing up near Amery, WI, popcorn became a treat on weeknights. The ordinary evening became a little bit special.

The Power of Writing

 

A small drop of ink produces that which makes thousands think.

Lord Byron

 

A Time of Great Anticipation

The end of May and the beginning of June, a time filled with optimism and high hopes. For us in the United States, the Memorial weekend kicks off the summer season. Scenes like this lift the spirits of officeworkers and any other workers who can only weekend at the lake, or at the cabin, or at the lake cabin. Summer doesn’t begin on the solstice on the 21st of June, it begins three weeks earlier.

As a teacher, let me tell you a big secret, schoolkids: Teachers looked forward to summer as much or more than you do or did. Staying in the teaching profession after the 17 years of schooling, the summer break continued to be routine for me, a joyful routine. For people in Wisconsin, Minnesota, and maybe Michigan and New York, the summer breaks and weekends meant going “UP North” or as  locally stated, UP Nort. For other states, my guess it they’d head somewhere that became synonymous with getting  away and enjoying the ease of leisure. As my nephew reflected on this when he told me that putting the dock in by the cabin is great fun, a signal that the warm season is ahead. Fall and taking the dock in, not such a wonderful feeling.

In addition, a time of family reunions and celebrations.

The end of May, a time of great anticipation.

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