Cottage Treasures.... ♪ Michael Hoppe ~ Long Ago ♪
" Girlfriend treasure "
In an evening class at Stanford the last lecture was on the mind-body connection - the relationship between stress and disease. The speaker (head of psychiatry at Stanford) said, among other things, that one of the best things that a man could do for his health is to be married to a woman whereas for a woman, one of the best things she could do for her health was to nurture her relationships with her girlfriends. At first everyone laughed - but he was serious. Women connect with each other differently and provide support systems that help each other to deal with stress and difficult life experiences. Physically this quality “girlfriend time" helps u create more serotonin - a neurotransmitter that helps combat depression and can create a general feeling of well-being. Women share feelings whereas men often form relationships around activities. We share from our souls with our sisters/mothers/friends, and that is very GOOD for our health. He said that spending time with a friend is just as important to our general health as jogging or working out at a gym. There's a tendency to think that when we are "exercising" we are doing something good for our bodies, but when we are hanging out with friends, we are wasting our time and should be more productively engaged — not true. In fact, he said that failure to create and maintain quality personal relationships with other humans is as dangerous to our physical health as smoking! So every time you hang out to schmooze with a gal pal, just pat yourself on the back and congratulate yourself for doing something good for your health! We are indeed very, very blessed. So, let's thank God for friendship with girlfriends. They are very good for our health. Forward this to all your girlfriends – and stay in touch! Thanks to all the girls in my life who have helped me stay healthy, happy, and feeling very loved. |
The gate is left open just for you - so come on in and sit a spell,
kick your shoes off, eat supper, and maybe sing a song.
This is what we were meant to do with each other
and in the Welcome Series, it is this "invitation" that I have painted for you.
Sure, it is a attractive cabin that we would all love to experience, or maybe even retreat to.
But more than that, I want you to experience the longing of being wanted and sought after.
So, please, come on up to the rocking chair and sit for a while
so you can hear the sounds of the night creatures and feel the warmth and love of good friends.
You may not have felt the invitation of your presence strongly before,
but I want you to feel it now, on this summer evening -
Welcome!
Welcome Summer ~ by Mark Keathley - Infinity Fine Art
available at Infinityfineart.com
kick your shoes off, eat supper, and maybe sing a song.
This is what we were meant to do with each other
and in the Welcome Series, it is this "invitation" that I have painted for you.
Sure, it is a attractive cabin that we would all love to experience, or maybe even retreat to.
But more than that, I want you to experience the longing of being wanted and sought after.
So, please, come on up to the rocking chair and sit for a while
so you can hear the sounds of the night creatures and feel the warmth and love of good friends.
You may not have felt the invitation of your presence strongly before,
but I want you to feel it now, on this summer evening -
Welcome!
Welcome Summer ~ by Mark Keathley - Infinity Fine Art
available at Infinityfineart.com
Abandoned Farmhouse
By Ted Kooser
He was a big man, says the size of his shoes
on a pile of broken dishes by the house;
a tall man too, says the length of the bed
in an upstairs room; and a good, God-fearing man,
says the Bible with a broken back
on the floor below the window, dusty with sun;
but not a man for farming, say the fields
cluttered with boulders and the leaky barn.
A woman lived with him, says the bedroom wall
papered with lilacs and the kitchen shelves
covered with oilcloth, and they had a child,
says the sandbox made from a tractor tire.
Money was scarce, say the jars of plum preserves
and canned tomatoes sealed in the cellar hole.
And the winters cold, say the rags in the window frames.
It was lonely here, says the narrow country road.
Something went wrong, says the empty house
in the weed-choked yard. Stones in the fields
say he was not a farmer; the still-sealed jars
in the cellar say she left in a nervous haste.
And the child? Its toys are strewn in the yard
like branches after a storm--a rubber cow,
a rusty tractor with a broken plow,
a doll in overalls. Something went wrong, they say.
By Ted Kooser
He was a big man, says the size of his shoes
on a pile of broken dishes by the house;
a tall man too, says the length of the bed
in an upstairs room; and a good, God-fearing man,
says the Bible with a broken back
on the floor below the window, dusty with sun;
but not a man for farming, say the fields
cluttered with boulders and the leaky barn.
A woman lived with him, says the bedroom wall
papered with lilacs and the kitchen shelves
covered with oilcloth, and they had a child,
says the sandbox made from a tractor tire.
Money was scarce, say the jars of plum preserves
and canned tomatoes sealed in the cellar hole.
And the winters cold, say the rags in the window frames.
It was lonely here, says the narrow country road.
Something went wrong, says the empty house
in the weed-choked yard. Stones in the fields
say he was not a farmer; the still-sealed jars
in the cellar say she left in a nervous haste.
And the child? Its toys are strewn in the yard
like branches after a storm--a rubber cow,
a rusty tractor with a broken plow,
a doll in overalls. Something went wrong, they say.
SHE's battered and worn, she's tattered and torn.
But there's life in her story, of past days of glory.
Of babies that's crying, of late nights of sighing.
Of going or staying, of hoping and praying.
Of grief and home going, of planting and sowing.
Of dinner bells ringing, of Sunday's singing.
Of coffee a brewing, and dinner a stewing.
Of running and playing.
Of listening, and obeying..
Love, Linda
Sunshine & Sweetie Pies
But there's life in her story, of past days of glory.
Of babies that's crying, of late nights of sighing.
Of going or staying, of hoping and praying.
Of grief and home going, of planting and sowing.
Of dinner bells ringing, of Sunday's singing.
Of coffee a brewing, and dinner a stewing.
Of running and playing.
Of listening, and obeying..
Love, Linda
Sunshine & Sweetie Pies
"Country Blessings" by Mark Keathley
Let your bare feet feel the earth as you are drawn into a world of simple living.
No more rushing to fit it all in; instead, relax on the porch and enjoy the blessings of life in the country.
I have created such a place for you to sit and enjoy so your heart can come home.
I am wanting to stay right on the edge of
"this is my grandparents home place" and "I'd love to retreat to this spot."
I'm trying to balance the natural look of a farm with all of its "stuff"
and the park like setting we would like to believe is where we live,
with the peaceful reminders that the simple life of the country
is often where the deepest "blessings" are found.
-- Mark Keathley
infinityfineart.com/CountryBlessingsbymarkkeathley
Let your bare feet feel the earth as you are drawn into a world of simple living.
No more rushing to fit it all in; instead, relax on the porch and enjoy the blessings of life in the country.
I have created such a place for you to sit and enjoy so your heart can come home.
I am wanting to stay right on the edge of
"this is my grandparents home place" and "I'd love to retreat to this spot."
I'm trying to balance the natural look of a farm with all of its "stuff"
and the park like setting we would like to believe is where we live,
with the peaceful reminders that the simple life of the country
is often where the deepest "blessings" are found.
-- Mark Keathley
infinityfineart.com/CountryBlessingsbymarkkeathley