Live simply, give more, expect less

Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

“Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass ... it's learning to dance in the rain”

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

I collect antiques. Why? Because they're beautiful... Broderick Crawford

I like cluttered, old, dark-wood antiques. I like character... Martha Plimpton

THE ANTIQUE HOME -

The antique clock sits on the shelf, One taller, on the floor, Depending on the patterns then One hundred years or more! The dishes, marked by tripods, now Show they were served with care, Those patterns of the long ago, How precious now and rare!

The Settle now has guests again; The fireplace glows with red; The doughbox, covered, standing near, Once held tomorrow's bread! The spinning wheel clicked as it made Another skein complete; The drop leaf table's wooden hinge Swings level on its feet.

The tiny Betty Lamp, that burned Just grease to make the light That great-great-great-grandmother used When she bade all "Good night," Could tell a story of the days When Washington was here, If it could only whisper now With bedtime drawing near!

The hooked rug shows an old farm scene Of seventeen seventy-nine; The corner cupboards--cherry wood, Or walnut, maybe pine. The kettle once again now swings Above the fires that glow How many hungry, it once fed Long years, long years ago.

The tables, kitchen dressers, sinks And footstools and the stand And cupboards, held by wooden pegs-- And blotters filled with sand The cradle, pride of many homes, That many mothers rocked The stories now no one can tell The passing years have blocked.

Oh, lovers of the antiques, here Think of the minds that led, Who stole long hours from sleep, to toil; In daylight earned the bread Their love for mothers, brides and babes Who brighten home and hearth, Urged silently the artist's skill Who brought Love's dreams to earth! __Ed Blair