What the He…uhm Heck, IS THIS?!?!?!

What the He…er Heck is this?!

I have never seen one before and the first one I noted today looked like a very wet and shiny brain.

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There was a weird sense of fear as I had to get nearer, waiting for an alien to pop out at me, glistening fangs and dripping eyes…(sorry, but it’s true)

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Ok, fine, I avoided taking the picture of the first wet one, I didn’t want to get too close and then I saw other ones.

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Parts of my insides said…BUTTERFLIES!!!! OOOOOOO AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
The rest said are you NUTS!?!?, get some pics so that the nature people everywhere, or in Pennsylvania can rationally erase alien feelings of horror.

Thank You WordPress Helper-Type Persons!

I had been experiencing dismay. It was very dramatic. My lower lip nearly dried out, from all of the pouting. Somehow, through something I did, or did not do, my sidebars became bottom of the blog bars. They did not become neato-suitable bottom bars either! I very carefully searched the helps. I found that I already had those things in line. I even deleted the posting that I did, the only thing I changed(that I know of). I still had bottom bars. So, I wrote note, that I hope was nice, to the WordPress Helper-Type Persons. And then, I waited. Let me tell you, in case you hadn’t noticed, I am the world’s BEST waiter!!!! Ok, no I am NOT AT ALL. I can’t even lie about it, except that little humor there, which I also had to amend. Pardon me, I haven’t had tea yet and I’ve wavered off onto something else.

I woke up this morning and JOY OF JOYS GLORY AND HALLELUIAH! God enabled the skills of problem location and correction to surpass my own and to get the bottom bars back to side bars!!! It’s the little things that please! I am so grateful for the WordPress Helper-Typer Persons!! I hope that they know that I am!

Morning Trip (33) Butterfly, Bread, and Rumi


“A Year With Rumi by Coleman Barks

A Basket of Fresh Bread (2)

There is a basket of fresh bread on your head,

yet you go door to door asking for crusts.

Knock on the inner door. No other.

Sloshing knee-deep in clear streamwater,

you keep wanting a drink from other poeple’s waterbags.

Water is everywhere around you,

but you see only barriers that keep you from water.

A horse is moving beneath the rider’s thighs,

yet still he asks, Where is my horse?

Right there, under you. Yes, this is a horse,

but where’s the horse? Can’t you see? Yes,

I can see, but whoever saw such a horse?

Mad with thirst, he cannot drink from the stream

running so close by his face.

He is like a pearl on the deep bottom

wondering, inside the shell, Where is the ocean?

His mental questionings form the barrier.

HIs physical eyesight bandages his knowing.

Self-consciousness plugs his ears.

Stay bewildered in God and only that.”

Morning Trip (31)

“TO A BUTTERFLY
I’VE watched you now a full half-hour;
Self-poised upon that yellow flower
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless!–not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!

This plot of orchard-ground is ours;                                                              10
My trees they are, my Sister’s flowers;
Here rest your wings when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We’ll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.                                                                                 1801.”
–William Wordsworth