Signing Off – Night decends on the Stitching Garden

As time goes on my two jobs take up much more of my time than they once did. This is a GOOD thing, I am far from complaining. I rarely have time for needlework, or reading, or whatever these days – and once again, this is a good thing. There also seems to be less and less that I am willing to “put out there” on the internet.

 I will still read those blogs I enjoy as I can, and even comment on them from time to time. It does, however, seem time to allow night to fall on the Stitching Garden.

 My prayers and best wishes are with everyone who I have met through this blog, and also for those who keep the blogs that I read on a regular basis.


Ponderings, Mysteries, and Cats – and comments

World Press is rather odd, sometimes I know when there are comments waiting, sometimes I do not. This time I didn’t know that the blog had decided that Grace’s comment was spam – but it had not been deleted as of yet. This is good. You can see the post she commented on by going here.

Weep Not at Nain

Cold and still and lifeless ill lying
On the bier. So strange to see the boy
Whose jest and winsome dreams once en-joyed
The heart of an old mother, now ill, crying.

The whole town and bridge club, beauty shop, baking crew and ladies’ guild
Were shocked at this injustice: how could God
Be cruel if He were so mighty: isn’t it odd
That goodness gets harder once youth is stilled.

(read the rest here)

I cannot help but to post teasers to things at the Second Terrace blog, while you are there I highly recommend looking around at what else is there.

What do you think of this?

The person who wrote this poem asked me not to identify her, but when she found out I have a blog she asked me to post this. SHE knows what she means here, but is curious to know if others get it – or WHAT they get from this poem. (I am not so sure that this IS a poem, but that is what she considers it). She is Orthodox, btw. If this isn’t a poem, what IS it?

So, here it is, I will pass any comments along her way:


Far in the distance fading to black
             chains clink
             keys ring
             chaos cackles

Closer in
           boredom waits (predictable)
           routine beckons (illusion of safety)
           distractions entice (delusion of control)

Directly ahead
           Mystery calls
           invisible spectators encourage
           Divine Fire awaits
           Tree of Life in sharp relief

She steps forward . . .