Hope is the thing with feathers

It’s been a peaceful weekend here at the Casa de George in beautiful Maryland. It began Friday evening with excellent food and company at the annual Trustees Dinner that’s held for the faculty at our school. I think it’s wonderful that they do this for us.

A full morning of cleaning followed on Saturday, as I readied our house for guests. Two of my girlfriends that I’ve known since high school came to stay. It was much fun. And my husband actually enjoys their company.

On Sunday morning we had brunch, then sat outside on the patio in the sunshine. I snapped a few photos while we talked and laughed.






I kept looking at this spot in the tree and realized that it was a feather delicately clinging onto a leaf blown into the twigs of the doogwood.

Hope

     

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Emily Dickinson

My friend, Peg, brought a gift for my husband and when we awoke Sunday morning, we found that he’d hung it up in the dogwood tree.

It was a good day for a snooze in the sun for George.

And for Miss Blackie, as well.

And the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees and the moon up above.


I don’t know where that came from.



And now I’m off to watch the Academy Awards. It’ll be good to see it being hosted again by Billy Crystal. Enjoy your week, my friends ~ and thanks for stopping by my little corner of the universe.