tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35250616110579497292024-01-13T23:38:32.140-08:00 I like gleaming surfaces.Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.comBlogger751125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-78558144019123238792021-10-14T05:52:00.002-07:002021-10-14T06:35:24.508-07:00Lois Nancy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNsUkdLgOB-sTUQkk8kIn9Pb9op2TUOQ6GoTjUz5VcNrKyRPKYFFYKYX6Gpaf8bOALd5QeGTzj0AcUMcpTp9TYDRAJyWKmuqZeGS_xg587hXEihw6eSpR9VuORX-fR0pRPePkUMqNy12Q/s2048/LoisNancyKolden-Artwork-ChicksEating-Watercolor.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1407" data-original-width="2048" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNsUkdLgOB-sTUQkk8kIn9Pb9op2TUOQ6GoTjUz5VcNrKyRPKYFFYKYX6Gpaf8bOALd5QeGTzj0AcUMcpTp9TYDRAJyWKmuqZeGS_xg587hXEihw6eSpR9VuORX-fR0pRPePkUMqNy12Q/w640-h440/LoisNancyKolden-Artwork-ChicksEating-Watercolor.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">This artwork is my mother's. It touches my heart. <span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">(So gentle.)<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">A thoughtful depiction of something sweet, tiny, and cute.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">'Watercolor Chickens'<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">by Lois.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">;) </div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: center;"> </p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: center;"> </p></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p></blockquote>Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-10508199812621142502021-06-17T06:02:00.001-07:002021-06-17T06:04:15.593-07:00On time arrival<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoIoc20Vaem4bjH3Lid50AQ4Lx2-O3IYY5-DAc1921uKfo4HqxcpPLquL-2A2WL0xoYe44lIMcPwkxhsmRz4iQ1yVDxqamvdhsy-RLHXt-22aBv01tYxAmVASv9vgX7b2XKX92i1Zm1pI/s2048/April23rainyweatherlovelyrosecolor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1776" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoIoc20Vaem4bjH3Lid50AQ4Lx2-O3IYY5-DAc1921uKfo4HqxcpPLquL-2A2WL0xoYe44lIMcPwkxhsmRz4iQ1yVDxqamvdhsy-RLHXt-22aBv01tYxAmVASv9vgX7b2XKX92i1Zm1pI/w556-h640/April23rainyweatherlovelyrosecolor.jpg" width="556" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">'Becoming' isn't a destination---it's a process.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_fQuZGu1_93owKVWHVwshpQQodi27OjeUoJ2-VzjLzS8Xb9l51rD4bJqLpteGr_4V8-a5r4lcVKzOBtEGCywWbx00hbyJVFX9o1fWht92rQtIrqbKvcxggw8hzlRT_NlHNiYYNnOXzKs/s2048/MySig-Cartoon-Sat-Mr.Tatters.+.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1651" data-original-width="2048" height="78" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_fQuZGu1_93owKVWHVwshpQQodi27OjeUoJ2-VzjLzS8Xb9l51rD4bJqLpteGr_4V8-a5r4lcVKzOBtEGCywWbx00hbyJVFX9o1fWht92rQtIrqbKvcxggw8hzlRT_NlHNiYYNnOXzKs/w97-h78/MySig-Cartoon-Sat-Mr.Tatters.+.JPG" width="97" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><p><br /></p>Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-6227251236850515842021-05-03T07:11:00.002-07:002021-05-03T07:47:56.190-07:00The 'Ghosts' at Shulem's Table<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY68DnKKfGozgJeDH_iVP_WqRKpv-U3dvWLh3P365J1H43jMM2tEhKrmozBl5_wLyePDFjkvBvI0s4Mr_OdMIUVuTkIcKEgggoeazfoeeZQUV8SXQu1Iiv6CgFpnS2ZkXLEsXzMrXQV9c/s2048/CurlingCloudSettingSun.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1571" data-original-width="2048" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY68DnKKfGozgJeDH_iVP_WqRKpv-U3dvWLh3P365J1H43jMM2tEhKrmozBl5_wLyePDFjkvBvI0s4Mr_OdMIUVuTkIcKEgggoeazfoeeZQUV8SXQu1Iiv6CgFpnS2ZkXLEsXzMrXQV9c/w640-h490/CurlingCloudSettingSun.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div dir="auto" style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; transition-property: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; transition-property: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: #f0f2f5; text-align: start; white-space: normal;">Did you ever see the trail of a (jet) plane left in the sky? Or ripples of water flowing out from one concentric 'plunk' of something 'gone' in the middle? That is how life is. People who have passed leave these trails behind. The memories we hold, the recollection of the tendencies we recall (that our deceased loved ones had) and the profound and lasting influences these people had on our lives are at play in our current lives. Our Grandmother's hand on our shoulder. The spot where our Grandfather sat on the couch. Memories of sewing around a dinner table at our Grandmother's house with her nearby. Our memories---the delightful thing about them is we can conjure them up at virtually any time in our own mind. And they might still influence our behavior and certainly our emotions today. Our loved ones or even people we simply met who left an albeit brief but indelible mark influence us from beyond the grave. They are, in a sense, ghosts at our table. They remind us of where we came from and who we are. This is a comfort to those left living.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; transition-property: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; transition-property: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">[My commentary on the 'Ghosts at Shulem's Table;' final scene from "Shtisel" (Netflix, 2018.)]</div><div dir="auto" style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; transition-property: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; transition-property: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCrjVpNsQmZE6i2VyFiV0BTikOmj4RdHQn8fFYKB7TJaxgJHN3gT_CzUiDNUQmBdSKeSQtZslFPZoyvxjRyhUf0F95sioqG18jSemFis7KTQkq7jSnW72LHtRa22lOAW-5dH5mmnYl7Q/s2048/MySig-Cartoon-Sat-Mr.Tatters.+.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1651" data-original-width="2048" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCrjVpNsQmZE6i2VyFiV0BTikOmj4RdHQn8fFYKB7TJaxgJHN3gT_CzUiDNUQmBdSKeSQtZslFPZoyvxjRyhUf0F95sioqG18jSemFis7KTQkq7jSnW72LHtRa22lOAW-5dH5mmnYl7Q/w106-h86/MySig-Cartoon-Sat-Mr.Tatters.+.JPG" width="106" /></a></div><br /><div dir="auto" style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; transition-property: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; transition-property: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </div>Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-60527452628612084522021-04-08T08:32:00.003-07:002021-04-08T08:36:04.319-07:00For the Likes of Me!<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He broke his stride for me<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He threw me a rope<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">threw a rock <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">at his head<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He was generous<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was his nature<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I pushed (ahead)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I fought<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I unbraided <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">the hair,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">the hair<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">that was arranged hair by hair for me<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I tore<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">at the clothes<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">so precisely sewn-<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">the fabric of life<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I tore out<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">its eyes<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I gouged them my doll<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Pretty doll<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">my eyes <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">me<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I fought<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I screamed<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I pushed<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I ran, I ran, <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and then I ran far away</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and then I<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">hopped left <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal">when he went right<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I was taken aback<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">when he<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">leaned in<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">(Just) why <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">would He do it?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">(For the likes <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">of me.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He stayed. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-60648667463876305552021-04-08T06:57:00.003-07:002021-04-08T08:16:34.584-07:00(My Biggest) Fault<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">Even so</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My left hand rushes to finish<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What my right hand has not completed<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And my knees hold<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What my hands cannot<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Impatience.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVJZJA2l4EZ0atMM3pFILdJh3PG5hsYrQnyYITlocM6-c4DLhPDAMcri-Zuli2JAp1aNjF6ZXJv1dW_UxuxRYIXC1caMTvK4Inu1ENVgyUUxQQ5h9SvuF7alEZUzGOqQX8nkKyCurh3Fc/s2048/PoetrybookProp.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1723" data-original-width="2048" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVJZJA2l4EZ0atMM3pFILdJh3PG5hsYrQnyYITlocM6-c4DLhPDAMcri-Zuli2JAp1aNjF6ZXJv1dW_UxuxRYIXC1caMTvK4Inu1ENVgyUUxQQ5h9SvuF7alEZUzGOqQX8nkKyCurh3Fc/w400-h336/PoetrybookProp.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12px;">©K Annie Powell</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-47280971062231187812021-04-08T06:26:00.008-07:002023-08-16T12:40:54.839-07:00Mine<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">Thinking back<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">…I behold once more<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">the day<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">the hour <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">the time<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">My beloved’s twisted hands held me <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">close <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">as I sat perched <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">upon the long thick gnarled tree<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Its limb a bench <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">a home<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">a niche of quiet<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">solitude<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">A place of rest<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Leg’s dangling-<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">10 or so<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">It was any hour<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">It was<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">my hour<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">50 years later<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I go there in my mind<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">to stop <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and to ponder <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">what lies ahead <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I examine dreams that are<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">now behind <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">me on the limb<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I hold fast to<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">the quiet</p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs10NMiTjQN5_XheY4dxcOEhpnTxRvxdzuiLmIOpoyT_J3iYdK-pTiiWDDXxLxYYW867-0-SzMLMTsLYXOMFTGDa39TtZWG6GNrEOSadJxQ64qmZ39pKlDRFsXKDi9iTNAfhesxvBcWsM/s2048/MammothAppalachianTree.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs10NMiTjQN5_XheY4dxcOEhpnTxRvxdzuiLmIOpoyT_J3iYdK-pTiiWDDXxLxYYW867-0-SzMLMTsLYXOMFTGDa39TtZWG6GNrEOSadJxQ64qmZ39pKlDRFsXKDi9iTNAfhesxvBcWsM/w640-h480/MammothAppalachianTree.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Happy Birthday Dad; April 8, 2021 <div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12px;">©K Annie Powell</span></div><div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p></div></div>Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-48986414312589435442020-11-09T11:35:00.003-08:002020-11-09T13:05:04.179-08:00Her Thing.<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvXPC8XVNrxhaahuBEgUGgfHzV9_eYUaylXWpOT4ehiqIMfhNTEdchTEys-a4nFwg_KlSWFblYVtw0Zlj2X_0Dh49-nzCFtQaBF4VLXs2s4Jyve8B2KaaxOXWatRJITT_Nx3jcHnXFNY/s2048/LakhiatRest.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1444" data-original-width="2048" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvXPC8XVNrxhaahuBEgUGgfHzV9_eYUaylXWpOT4ehiqIMfhNTEdchTEys-a4nFwg_KlSWFblYVtw0Zlj2X_0Dh49-nzCFtQaBF4VLXs2s4Jyve8B2KaaxOXWatRJITT_Nx3jcHnXFNY/w640-h452/LakhiatRest.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The dog lay on the grass on her back. She would groan and moan and wriggle and rub ---and make 'Wookie</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">' noises. These were all noises to show--- she was happy in the sun, she was happy in the light, and she was happy in the fresh air. Happy, groaning noises of delight she made, as she wriggled </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">back and forth, stretching herself out from top to bottom</span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> like the letter 'S.' Swoosh swoosh, grunt grunt, she made music. How did I not know this was her thing? </span></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjb7jlNGscsHoMOey951EmIFfs8R46jJEpmdyQQGhU-ewwm5Cl6dX9oPXD8-atin1p1brmMlYcM2HO5m6_tmh9yKDAG7vm2X-dTuYAmGjmWnSdY8W-1TLLBbzC3RiBYffO4LXbzi0HIp8/s2048/20110928_01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjb7jlNGscsHoMOey951EmIFfs8R46jJEpmdyQQGhU-ewwm5Cl6dX9oPXD8-atin1p1brmMlYcM2HO5m6_tmh9yKDAG7vm2X-dTuYAmGjmWnSdY8W-1TLLBbzC3RiBYffO4LXbzi0HIp8/w200-h150/20110928_01.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-5266267521114100502020-10-12T20:24:00.009-07:002023-08-16T12:56:00.346-07:00Revisiting<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkuKe-mkguBNBN0p7nhNRLqUMhgojx-6Oh8MeroTyM5rI8eC1lPC_nuOWVip3m4koYhB5QmEzebhvmI5y4u6L1pc0_Fb69DrMZReM9qx8AFc8487nRCw-p591L5B4nPftX6HBW4BqHjwU/s2048/20111222_41.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="407" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkuKe-mkguBNBN0p7nhNRLqUMhgojx-6Oh8MeroTyM5rI8eC1lPC_nuOWVip3m4koYhB5QmEzebhvmI5y4u6L1pc0_Fb69DrMZReM9qx8AFc8487nRCw-p591L5B4nPftX6HBW4BqHjwU/w543-h407/20111222_41.JPG" width="543" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">No More</span></b></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">Don’t want to hang ’round
these ghosts no more<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">as they moan and wander
and pace this ol’ floor.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">Don’t want to hang ’round
the spirits of past, as<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">they linger and promise
things that don’t last.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">They slink through the hollow,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">they hang at the door<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">their faces so sullen <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">that they lie on the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">They tempt me with wine and
pastries<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">but hand over spoilt food
and mush<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">Then coax me to stay<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">sitting 'lone on my tush<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">not lifting a pen<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">nor writing a stroke<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">and behind my back<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">they chide me,
“Slow-poke.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">“L-a-z-y,” they say…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">“She won’t make the cut.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Let’s hang ‘round until <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">she’s stuck deep in this
rut.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">They mutter and clamor and
they raise such a stink,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">telling me “Consider <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">our </i>feelings...”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">that I must “Stay <u>put</u>,”
or “They’re leaving!” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">Won’t listen to their chastisements—no,
not even one<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">as they dangle carrots
that vanish; that leave me undone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">"You could have been 'this…'”
or “You’re over the hill.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Look over there--” “Now, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">try, if you will</i>…”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">“You won’t maaaake it!”
“You haven’t come far,”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">“You’ve frittered your
chances and fallen short of the bar.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="color: grey; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 128;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">Their obvious content at
my possible demise<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">should cause me to act out
with an upheaval--<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">to shake them right off
like the weevils they are!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">These spirits that plague me
are never content <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">’cept to harp on my obvious
faults and my failings<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">leaving me on the ropes
and the railings. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">They weigh me down with
concern for my plight,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">yet they secretly cheer
when I’m drifting…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">poking holes in my sails all
the time when <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #595959; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 166;">my spirit</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;">is
lifting. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12px;">©K Annie Powell</span></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmfrDFeHODJopw9nmfoqy2kaSV1300-6oZN3pZ2jVHQJoaBe5Q5BxddUFiVbyRFdVyM1ER2INhxB9GzrbrVc54xNRBiq2S5Nw4YBEGIc0bUdJ8dYEV2VQjBEDELE0qi7CAsepLKmh7Vio/s2048/March11thickmistdown.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmfrDFeHODJopw9nmfoqy2kaSV1300-6oZN3pZ2jVHQJoaBe5Q5BxddUFiVbyRFdVyM1ER2INhxB9GzrbrVc54xNRBiq2S5Nw4YBEGIc0bUdJ8dYEV2VQjBEDELE0qi7CAsepLKmh7Vio/w387-h516/March11thickmistdown.jpg" width="387" /></a></div><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p>Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-78221687119299721542020-04-29T06:24:00.000-07:002020-05-01T11:34:36.241-07:00Blythe gets a new dress. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo2N8YO7FrM3qQyf3IsNF0s6b2rXMETrgqFiVIsUMdjDUtLsiyk4BpnKeANLOssHKyTWgqB60Q5DRbs1NYdkI-IxEuvSRKcNaYJoEsWL3QbjqVKoiWndBjyXUg5OgJ3BD_wz0ckUTa1u0/s1600/BlythesNewDress-2020-signed.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1225" data-original-width="1600" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo2N8YO7FrM3qQyf3IsNF0s6b2rXMETrgqFiVIsUMdjDUtLsiyk4BpnKeANLOssHKyTWgqB60Q5DRbs1NYdkI-IxEuvSRKcNaYJoEsWL3QbjqVKoiWndBjyXUg5OgJ3BD_wz0ckUTa1u0/s640/BlythesNewDress-2020-signed.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-58983454439922721962020-04-20T07:53:00.004-07:002020-05-20T06:34:03.717-07:00Spring azalea.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuxS6GvxaVdUVXLdcPpy-msPtJSFsIVZEXmNJALFFDDz7TSeQjHpEcrLQsgklz79l-03cOyL-P4zt_TA_Jfd_RWUn9iOzp8dShtH1S50xJ8CZ7gu8ZavC5aYGS5A1KmfmH5NzkxIvjeGY/s1600/SwalesWayAzalas-white-2020.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuxS6GvxaVdUVXLdcPpy-msPtJSFsIVZEXmNJALFFDDz7TSeQjHpEcrLQsgklz79l-03cOyL-P4zt_TA_Jfd_RWUn9iOzp8dShtH1S50xJ8CZ7gu8ZavC5aYGS5A1KmfmH5NzkxIvjeGY/s640/SwalesWayAzalas-white-2020.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Bright white and light.</div>
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Lovely, eh? Spring, 2020 in North Carolina.</div>
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Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-76756794117765371292020-03-16T08:06:00.000-07:002020-03-16T08:07:29.920-07:00Just clowning around.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_HmeFh0yMdOHRxgMi87NESzH77UUtevz7Vbbmk33Vz_DdzRNYNCHwt8BLElJ13yhLRGYQv3oMX4hvOWhpOKrvsT21kYzu6Z2alCd_DXHc7p4-U91Yi1MmboiVqj-qA_-jD8LSZlX_hcM/s1600/WeeClown-acrylic-large-signed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1083" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_HmeFh0yMdOHRxgMi87NESzH77UUtevz7Vbbmk33Vz_DdzRNYNCHwt8BLElJ13yhLRGYQv3oMX4hvOWhpOKrvsT21kYzu6Z2alCd_DXHc7p4-U91Yi1MmboiVqj-qA_-jD8LSZlX_hcM/s640/WeeClown-acrylic-large-signed.jpg" width="432" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;"> Acrylic on Canvas, "Wee Clown."</span></div>
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Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-68480094199329716052019-11-26T19:21:00.000-08:002020-04-01T05:07:58.260-07:00Back For Christmas<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7445535114563601880" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 626px;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The cold came across the mountain. With it, came a breeze of sort, that whirled from the bottom of the tree filled hollow up and up to the dirt road where he paused. “I’m tired,” he thought. The wind whirled round his face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was dirty, dusty and rumpled all over. His coat, his father’s--was a few sizes too large, but quilted and warm enough. His windswept bangs stuck straight out of the navy cap perched on his head. His cheeks, pink and red from the cold, made him look comical. They were chapped. On his birthday last, this boy of just 13, set out to hike the Appalachian trail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He had made the decision to leave the day after his birthday. He had formed the words in his mind's eye before he knew the extent of what it would take to live them out. These words had welled up within him: “I am not a captive. I am not a victim. Run.” Being shuttled from household to household was not for him. And so he took to the Appalachians. The big trees were his family now and the stream and the stars were his source. Many others before him had done the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tonight, he had reached his destination. The sun was sinking fast over the mountain tops and it caused him to stop and gaze outward with the thoughtful large eyed stare of a young boy. The pine trees rustled loudly overhead. Sometimes, it seemed as if they would snap.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"The stand of pine trees would be perfect as any bed could be" he thought… "and private, too." As the last fiery streaks of the sun faded to gray, then blue-black, out of ritual he arose from the convenient stump and set up his modest nighttime camp. He noticed his body aching all over from the long day’s walk and the last hike up the patchy trail. His bed was made of folded up cardboard, with the outer long edge folded twice carefully to break the flow of cold night winds. The Appalachian mountains are known for whipping up the unexpected. This much he had come to know. Of the Appalachians it is said, "Just when you get used to the weather, it changes."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The boy’s hand grasped the only true ‘tool’ that he had on his person that had been his father’s. It was a rusty but sure flashlight, a Kel-lite 2D silver SKL that he had polished some and cleaned up, too. For his journey he’d made sure that he carried plenty of batteries for it, in case he got into trouble. Dad had always said, “Son, you never want to be caught without a flashlight. It could save your life."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He began the process of settling in for a sleep. His thoughts drifted back to a time when his mother was tending a fire. He could almost see his mother’s frame smack dab in the middle of the shadow of his mind’s eye. It was like a story. There were the shadows and then his mother’s hands, working. The soft line of her face was illuminated by the slightest of touches of firelight. "There she is!" he thought.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then he would remember the good feeling he got while staring into the firelight as it jumped and changed color, from red to orange to white and back again. And there was the blue tinge that he liked better, fed by a wee bit of green if you looked in real close. He could see her hands moving, always working, in front of the flickering flames. Warmth crept over him. “Tick…tick…tick” went the story in his mind’s eye, frame by frame. This one he ‘played’ each night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He sighed a heavy sigh as the shadows of night pressed in hard on the dark mountain. But when the pine trees parted in the wind, he could see the stars. “Click-click” went the flashlight, on and off, and on and off again. He wanted to leave the light on but knew he couldn’t dare drain the little bit of control that he felt he had over the immense darkness of the mountain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His breathing began to slow. An owl hooted. The verse that accompanied him this and every night trickled up through his consciousness, parting his thoughts and soothing him altogether: “Light of Light, very God of very God, begotten, not made…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheYQA4GlfsDae7t0vOkIeOV9QxaeivK9sMsmLYYJjASrj7tow1yTip0EeRU_InAwsHrBaJOpz1y85Ui0DrNsz_Rn8vcB_27Ad9cTgj7KAr7irMO1JMXV1wV2WQFUY_ma7s0NzZIjob-Ms/s1600/P4040260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheYQA4GlfsDae7t0vOkIeOV9QxaeivK9sMsmLYYJjASrj7tow1yTip0EeRU_InAwsHrBaJOpz1y85Ui0DrNsz_Rn8vcB_27Ad9cTgj7KAr7irMO1JMXV1wV2WQFUY_ma7s0NzZIjob-Ms/s640/P4040260.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 13.2px;">The above was written for a Poet's meeting in early December (2010) in the 'High Country' in the Appalachian Mountains of Boone, North Carolina. We were asked to write on the theme of "Light." I wrote the above short story "The Light" and then remembered one of my all time favorite reads on the subject of "Light." Here it is for you (not to compare it to mine, pleeese :) but as a tribute.) <b>I love this short story.</b> Here is</span> "<b>The Little Match Girl"</b> in English by<span style="font-size: 13.2px;"> Hans Christian Andersen. (All accompanying photos are mine.)</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQP9iKG_4i2H8Uae9MQkSGR8YRIVJRPmLByhyphenhyphenmW7DjljnaJNmt9o-Z1wdiUY8tF3jiC9Yr74__CmVUbO38A6OR0M3wT0OHF6Wz-eNZySrzabO1AvdOIHVAqtk3XFoBmxculXwaq04fJ3Q/s1600/BeechMountainRimeFrostyTrees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1129" data-original-width="1600" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQP9iKG_4i2H8Uae9MQkSGR8YRIVJRPmLByhyphenhyphenmW7DjljnaJNmt9o-Z1wdiUY8tF3jiC9Yr74__CmVUbO38A6OR0M3wT0OHF6Wz-eNZySrzabO1AvdOIHVAqtk3XFoBmxculXwaq04fJ3Q/s640/BeechMountainRimeFrostyTrees.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Evening came on, the last evening of the year. In the cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was walking through the streets. Of course when she had left her house she'd had slippers on, but what good had they been? They were very big slippers, way too big for her, for they belonged to her mother. The little girl had lost them running across the road, where two carriages had rattled by terribly fast. One slipper she'd not been able to find again, and a boy had run off with the other, saying he could use it very well as a cradle some day when he had children of his own. And so the little girl walked on her naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried several packages of matches, and she held a box of them in her hand. No one had bought any from her all day long, and no one had given her a cent.<br /><br />Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along, a picture of misery, poor little girl! The snowflakes fell on her long fair hair, which hung in pretty curls over her neck. In all the windows lights were shining, and there was a wonderful smell of roast goose, for it was New Year's eve. Yes, she thought of that!<br /><br />In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected farther out into the street than the other, she sat down and drew up her little feet under her. She was getting colder and colder, but did not dare to go home, for she had sold no matches, nor earned a single cent, and her father would surely beat her. Besides, it was cold at home, for they had nothing over them but a roof through which the wind whistled even though the biggest cracks had been stuffed with straw and rags.<br /><br />Her hands were almost dead with cold. Oh, how much one little match might warm her! If she could only take one from the box and rub it against the wall and warm her hands. She drew one out. <em>R-r-ratch!</em> How it sputtered and burned! It made a warm, bright flame, like a little candle, as she held her hands over it; but it gave a strange light! It really seemed to the little girl as if she were sitting before a great iron stove with shining brass knobs and a brass cover. How wonderfully the fire burned! How comfortable it was! The youngster stretched out her feet to warm them too; then the little flame went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the burnt match in her hand.<br /><br />She struck another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and when the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a thin veil, and she could see through it into a room. On the table a snow-white cloth was spread, and on it stood a shining dinner service. The roast goose steamed gloriously, stuffed with apples and prunes. And what was still better, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled along the floor with a knife and fork in its breast, right over to the little girl. Then the match went out, and she could see only the thick, cold wall. She lighted another match. Then she was sitting under the most beautiful Christmas tree. It was much larger and much more beautiful than the one she had seen last Christmas through the glass door at the rich merchant's home. Thousands of candles burned on the green branches, and colored pictures like those in the printshops looked down at her. The little girl reached both her hands toward them. Then the match went out. But the Christmas lights mounted higher. She saw them now as bright stars in the sky. One of them fell down, forming a long line of fire.<br /><br />"Now someone is dying," thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star fell down a soul went up to God.<br /><br />She rubbed another match against the wall. It became bright again, and in the glow the old grandmother stood clear and shining, kind and lovely.<br /><br />"Grandmother!" cried the child. "Oh, take me with you! I know you will disappear when the match is burned out. You will vanish like the warm stove, the wonderful roast goose and the beautiful big Christmas tree!"<br /><br />And she quickly struck the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother with her. And the matches burned with such a glow that it became brighter than daylight. Grandmother had never been so grand and beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and both of them flew in brightness and joy above the earth, very, very high, and up there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor fear-they were with God.<br /><br />But in the corner, leaning against the wall, sat the little girl with red cheeks and smiling mouth, frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. The New Year's sun rose upon a little pathetic figure. The child sat there, stiff and cold, holding the matches, of which one bundle was almost burned.<br /><br />"She wanted to warm herself," the people said. No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, and how happily she had gone with her old grandmother into the bright New Year.</span></div>
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Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-37705454921961941752019-07-03T03:42:00.003-07:002021-07-04T07:16:10.051-07:00My Patriotic Poem<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7019320469231656655" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 626px;">
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<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><span style="color: #666666; font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">One Time Journey</span></b></span><b style="color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><span style="font-family: "adobe ming std l" , serif; font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "adobe ming std l" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">Mountain beyond mountain-<br />all places we must go<br />Mountain beyond the one I'm climbing<br />preparing me, you know…<br />Mountain after mountain<br />each journey worth the climb<br />Mountain peak and mountain view<br />each one special, each one new<br />Horizon after horizon-<br />all calling me to push<br />venturing beyond what is safe<br />with limit after limit breached<br />and all upon this <i>dusty foot</i>…<br />Sunset after sunset<br />with color that never pales<br />Until I reach my resting place<br />pressing, I will prevail.<br />Mountain after mountain peak<br />and singing all the way<br />What I see from the valley fair<br />is calling out to me.<br />Mountains, limitless mountains<br />all standing in a row<br />Like soldiers they remind me of<br />places I have yet to go.<br />Glory upon glory<br />and wonders all around<br />I stand and gaze on mountain peaks<br />for this is hallowed ground.<br />Mountain after mountain peak<br />and pressing all the way<br />with story upon story to tell<br />I must be leaving-on my way.<br />Fair mountain you are a friend to me<br />I tuck you near my heart<br />Calling out to travelers everywhere<br />to up and run, to leave...depart!<br />Shake off the dust of yesteryear<br />And breath in something new<br />Fair mountain with one hid behind<br />is calling out to you...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "adobe ming std l" , serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br />So pack then, lightly friend-<br />brave travelers alike<br />And we will feast on mountain airs<br />on this, our lofty hike.<br />Soldier on, yes soldier on<br />and we will greet the day<br />Standing where our ancestry stood<br />stalwart, come what may.<br />Mountain fair, O Mountain friend<br />to you we rise and sing<br />all gathered 'round<br />as children clad<br />receive this-our offering.<br />Mountain looming, mountain next<br />to you we must away<br />and stand where our tomorrow shines<br />brighter than our yesterday.<br />Fair mountain on horizon, towering<br />you beckon and you call...<br />I will conquer and upon you stand<br />for you are fairest of them all!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "adobe ming std l" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">Arise, O slumbering nations!<br />Enter into your rest...<br />Banishing strife and your warring cease<br />to receive this-our Maker's very best...<br />For we each are gentle warriors<br />on this, our Earthly home;<br />each precious day a gift on display<br />to unwrap, to discover and to humbly hold.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "adobe ming std l" , serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br />And treat this one time journey<br />just like a loving child...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "adobe ming std l" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">held so sweetly to your breast<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "adobe ming std l" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">never left soiled, tired--undressed<br />And with a lightness in your step</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "adobe ming std l" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">run free, run brave, and run wild.</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "adobe ming std l" , serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "adobe ming std l" , serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "adobe ming std l" , serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">© K. Annie Powell</span></div>
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Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-84665642078127364112019-06-26T15:32:00.001-07:002019-06-27T12:02:14.766-07:00Summer love.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-46245109065648836632019-04-21T03:07:00.000-07:002019-04-21T03:11:03.099-07:00I'm all about doors.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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New Bern, NC</div>
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1790-ish.<br />
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Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-43149408365587223062018-12-27T16:02:00.002-08:002020-03-16T07:21:42.907-07:00Latest Illustrations (December)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcDMlaptDATEr1le1o11i_-2imYRnXJ8OXNSLq3dW3HhVDh0l10hy1l9xWfKJT_lZbOAIkfJFOqcvcWnYRhsatf8FmkJVpK_jpLIPrwQQrKMTwzrW08PzKjvww3NP1j3DickmxLXLzdgo/s1600/RawRabbit-mildcartoon-FC-signed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1446" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcDMlaptDATEr1le1o11i_-2imYRnXJ8OXNSLq3dW3HhVDh0l10hy1l9xWfKJT_lZbOAIkfJFOqcvcWnYRhsatf8FmkJVpK_jpLIPrwQQrKMTwzrW08PzKjvww3NP1j3DickmxLXLzdgo/s640/RawRabbit-mildcartoon-FC-signed.jpg" width="578" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Wee Fancy Rabbit</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW5xfgYIKhKWkuJJDJo2WytH-PzZabV_IUMZ_cqUPU4Ucn3_VTVozzvhD_UspQbXP6ACtZRxPhO0uRIx3udYrKgG6B1SIa95SnqFJThEUtr7Y_H0xHxdI5mVnEnhbRCnsWAGpLqaa6gmI/s1600/GhostTailorMouse-MildCartoon15-Sat-button-signed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1283" data-original-width="1600" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW5xfgYIKhKWkuJJDJo2WytH-PzZabV_IUMZ_cqUPU4Ucn3_VTVozzvhD_UspQbXP6ACtZRxPhO0uRIx3udYrKgG6B1SIa95SnqFJThEUtr7Y_H0xHxdI5mVnEnhbRCnsWAGpLqaa6gmI/s640/GhostTailorMouse-MildCartoon15-Sat-button-signed.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04;">"Ghost Tailor Mouse"</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTMltS3wKpzb5EG8KyfBHj5j1jGBlRv7v2uYY0pPT1MI5KEe6TE9BnuqqlJgyJWdJjqrMvYhZ2mFB_6bLbfXs1AzA5EMSD2CLJvnkGe3uDixRQLlxMqwAZ3ISrj7E-Ur-kVo6OoBNVQ0/s1600/MouseonThimble-blog-photo-20-signed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="640" height="626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTMltS3wKpzb5EG8KyfBHj5j1jGBlRv7v2uYY0pPT1MI5KEe6TE9BnuqqlJgyJWdJjqrMvYhZ2mFB_6bLbfXs1AzA5EMSD2CLJvnkGe3uDixRQLlxMqwAZ3ISrj7E-Ur-kVo6OoBNVQ0/s640/MouseonThimble-blog-photo-20-signed.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04;">Mr. Tatters Mouse</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZM4XU0Xthqj1eNvCnfSJQc4AhOSKG8PQz6hePTxMILNKBirZJMtc5fNsj2pI74tOe_YpqDrGPWpIpGEuEW0x3HPRo1xSTjF2p6l5M1WJAid90c-Jye6u3j75nR9Xi1t46jS3t806BlI0/s1600/MouseonThimble-Ultra-Neon-17-large-signed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1491" data-original-width="1600" height="595" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZM4XU0Xthqj1eNvCnfSJQc4AhOSKG8PQz6hePTxMILNKBirZJMtc5fNsj2pI74tOe_YpqDrGPWpIpGEuEW0x3HPRo1xSTjF2p6l5M1WJAid90c-Jye6u3j75nR9Xi1t46jS3t806BlI0/s640/MouseonThimble-Ultra-Neon-17-large-signed.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #783f04;">"In the Dark"</span></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04;">Merry </span><span style="color: #990000;">C</span><span style="color: #bf9000;">h</span><span style="color: #38761d;">r</span><span style="color: #783f04;">i</span><span style="color: #3d85c6;">s</span><span style="color: #444444;">t</span><span style="color: #990000;">m</span><span style="color: #bf9000;">a</span><span style="color: #38761d;">s</span><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;">!!!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04;">(All illustrations from this series are for sale in different formats at the following store!)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04;">Please leave me </span><span style="color: #bf9000;">feedback</span><span style="color: #783f04;"> in regard to the quality and experience when you order. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04;">I would greatly appreciate it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="color: #b45f06;">K</span><span style="color: #f1c232;">a</span><span style="color: #b45f06;">r</span><span style="color: #38761d;">e</span><span style="color: #ea9999;">n</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666;">;</span><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">-</span><span style="color: #783f04;">)</span><span style="color: #783f04;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138;">Enjoy</span><span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;">!</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.zazzle.com/mouseme">MouseMe</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/6-karen-powell.html">fineartamerica</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://fineartamerica.com/featured/mr-tatters-mouse-k-annie-powell.html">Mr Tatters Mouse</a><br />
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<br />Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-5082263054140624622018-11-13T08:28:00.002-08:002018-11-13T08:30:41.138-08:00a bunny rabbit.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC0uW0F_4viGc_8WqAkEDVEdJ2f3QtunY7gIOOc4-boO6v2pMBiQBCtkock4NXLohzvBx6dbmBpgc2f6J7buxeuPx-nE7DX1Fq7oPUJXiHuDdaUUgWdZj9ld7JkKSMcfzukbEZAC_Dtfs/s1600/BunnyRabbit-KPowell-poster-colorizedblu.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1062" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC0uW0F_4viGc_8WqAkEDVEdJ2f3QtunY7gIOOc4-boO6v2pMBiQBCtkock4NXLohzvBx6dbmBpgc2f6J7buxeuPx-nE7DX1Fq7oPUJXiHuDdaUUgWdZj9ld7JkKSMcfzukbEZAC_Dtfs/s640/BunnyRabbit-KPowell-poster-colorizedblu.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My bunny rabbit (friend.) </span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">:</span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">)</span></div>
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<br />Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-51245571328578830742018-08-24T08:53:00.000-07:002018-08-24T08:53:30.448-07:00A prayer.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKFn1c4NZd1tnU5PFRK8mzGMkvHb7SuX9nHHEzMEGjus3Cn-xrWLmgBNU3u1fzbeLSrwEdCfFtNi4K5KlQOzB0r2xyBN0dxfzFa9Dhk2XE2kY0cvV_Y0Oz1pwKICcCD7xHG2AndJ5ltCM/s1600/ChurchartSept09+012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKFn1c4NZd1tnU5PFRK8mzGMkvHb7SuX9nHHEzMEGjus3Cn-xrWLmgBNU3u1fzbeLSrwEdCfFtNi4K5KlQOzB0r2xyBN0dxfzFa9Dhk2XE2kY0cvV_Y0Oz1pwKICcCD7xHG2AndJ5ltCM/s640/ChurchartSept09+012.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Dear Lord,<br />
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Help my heart to settle down in its chapel.<br />
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<br />Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-32420590155833703662018-07-26T10:54:00.003-07:002018-07-26T10:54:33.071-07:00Here they are!!! ...The lovely wedding couple. :)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwg-H2-x9QZKZ-mdPSx3JbpEHahNzkLBSuOA8RDjGmcbNqZA1z77pLwndBUhrvn_mHRhmHYuuQ3F5Nq8QNJAI_HytW_MUXMOnEkXsE6UfvubadzjEy4s6qS0pNEgwpDaBejXAjPX5cwbE/s1600/Silver%252BNate%2528122%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwg-H2-x9QZKZ-mdPSx3JbpEHahNzkLBSuOA8RDjGmcbNqZA1z77pLwndBUhrvn_mHRhmHYuuQ3F5Nq8QNJAI_HytW_MUXMOnEkXsE6UfvubadzjEy4s6qS0pNEgwpDaBejXAjPX5cwbE/s640/Silver%252BNate%2528122%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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...My loving son, <span style="color: #073763;">Nate</span>, and his beautiful bride, <span style="color: #073763;">Silver</span>.</div>
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<span style="color: #073763;">May 27, 2018</span>.</div>
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['Proud Parent...'</div>
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= me.] </div>
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<span style="color: blue;">:</span><span style="color: magenta;">) </span> </div>
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Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-27949581638629120042018-07-26T06:43:00.002-07:002018-07-26T10:55:27.800-07:00On the Cake<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPWX10fdVpl3LwZO29VmCLfcVro_HN_7rhc5fAJua4DUv6gQQ9NVnxjepTvHR_XJW5P9_u99Cw6FhzHTdTJ0qwhSnrJ2uAkOThrdASSDc3Swri-W-w2W8CV5xGEkfWvjfSJFkBIw9uYNk/s1600/Wedding+Dolls-on-Cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1473" data-original-width="1600" height="588" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPWX10fdVpl3LwZO29VmCLfcVro_HN_7rhc5fAJua4DUv6gQQ9NVnxjepTvHR_XJW5P9_u99Cw6FhzHTdTJ0qwhSnrJ2uAkOThrdASSDc3Swri-W-w2W8CV5xGEkfWvjfSJFkBIw9uYNk/s640/Wedding+Dolls-on-Cake.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04;">(And a </span><span style="color: #666666;">good time</span><span style="color: #783f04;"> was had by all!)</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">;</span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">-</span><span style="color: magenta;">)</span></div>
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Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-48938360238267358052018-03-20T08:42:00.000-07:002018-04-05T06:53:33.687-07:00Wedding cake toppers from the 50's...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_yyWuiKlX72lFbTDHs0z7dAEZ2m7TOf694ExEqMAmXBwnpVUgGDlyeSg-iEjjLBqJ5ft9KebRHfJBor5e4Ixnn8BeOhxdZsF62DI2ToxfesQIfQfMi53wWwdPuMAYrM5LV_1S4MvA2g/s1600/Wed-LBWeddingDolls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1299" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_yyWuiKlX72lFbTDHs0z7dAEZ2m7TOf694ExEqMAmXBwnpVUgGDlyeSg-iEjjLBqJ5ft9KebRHfJBor5e4Ixnn8BeOhxdZsF62DI2ToxfesQIfQfMi53wWwdPuMAYrM5LV_1S4MvA2g/s400/Wed-LBWeddingDolls.jpg" width="323" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcEkO3jT6ICOy4HqGLanX1CoBNtp5GhHLr7mAavWVOqj_wouHj0nXjJ77zlJ69ugoRGU_va4pytu_qz_OyuU_s_eHmzt2VpmDR9426HLVlCQRmGcfBLFzChIXltieDDMKRYXLd4cCShSY/s1600/WeddingCakeTopperDolls-Nate-Silver.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcEkO3jT6ICOy4HqGLanX1CoBNtp5GhHLr7mAavWVOqj_wouHj0nXjJ77zlJ69ugoRGU_va4pytu_qz_OyuU_s_eHmzt2VpmDR9426HLVlCQRmGcfBLFzChIXltieDDMKRYXLd4cCShSY/s640/WeddingCakeTopperDolls-Nate-Silver.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
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'Before' restoration: 2nd Step Process<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg0qBoJyABCCUkLyZs3R-5c30LdNvSABk2bzgm5UNclFWbtkBs8dMUoBPN9IjexnXLmNVU4DGohqW95wl10EpePIyE7lE0LJd_IVvuOwIiuxdkHVWSAwktbawXEQrc4Mfy3Aq6dGERWZo/s1600/DollsforNate-Silver2018-1-fc.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1061" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg0qBoJyABCCUkLyZs3R-5c30LdNvSABk2bzgm5UNclFWbtkBs8dMUoBPN9IjexnXLmNVU4DGohqW95wl10EpePIyE7lE0LJd_IVvuOwIiuxdkHVWSAwktbawXEQrc4Mfy3Aq6dGERWZo/s640/DollsforNate-Silver2018-1-fc.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
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'After' (...their new look!)</div>
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These dolls (in chalk) are from the 1950's and </div>
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were saved by my mother-in-law Barbara Powell.</div>
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Oh, how I do wish she could see them now! </div>
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This post is made in honor of my in-laws, </div>
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Barbara and Leonard Powell. </div>
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Our beloved Leonard, has joined Barbara </div>
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<i>on the other side</i> this Saturday, past.</div>
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These dolls, with their newest look, </div>
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will grace <i>the top of the cake</i> this summer, </div>
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on May 27th, 2018 for the wedding of our son, </div>
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Nate and his fiancee, sweet Silver.</div>
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The colors have been changed, somewhat, to match </div>
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the upcoming couple and their wedding colors.</div>
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(In actuality, they are only 3&3/4 inches tall; </div>
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quite demure and small!)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmMWbNnCEZEuS4RGGXPYW7Ffi6nLOnQSETha8YVmRV-ZuTPqQnq2-6pbo4uPUEW-Q17qGiSk3uLzte6PLMUkbKyHwyH04cpi3fD8Xhs8avOnHnKL9IOzWlP_FhX4hAPhfX2avp-LREDfY/s1600/VintageKewpieRestored.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1189" data-original-width="1600" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmMWbNnCEZEuS4RGGXPYW7Ffi6nLOnQSETha8YVmRV-ZuTPqQnq2-6pbo4uPUEW-Q17qGiSk3uLzte6PLMUkbKyHwyH04cpi3fD8Xhs8avOnHnKL9IOzWlP_FhX4hAPhfX2avp-LREDfY/s200/VintageKewpieRestored.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcra3yHtCocuiffu50fe6bx8_CDV9Bfz6qV8kCS2N2bmYYukVYFyz5zQrg3Zhq-mV0t9hSeHDcUhyoFk1uu3mQn7VyMyzckBr1Fmah-j38At1uPWdPZa7htW-tQeLrf6DApqV1yzAN6oM/s1600/KewpieWeddingDollsrefurbished-Marge2017-1sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1429" data-original-width="1600" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcra3yHtCocuiffu50fe6bx8_CDV9Bfz6qV8kCS2N2bmYYukVYFyz5zQrg3Zhq-mV0t9hSeHDcUhyoFk1uu3mQn7VyMyzckBr1Fmah-j38At1uPWdPZa7htW-tQeLrf6DApqV1yzAN6oM/s200/KewpieWeddingDollsrefurbished-Marge2017-1sm.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Other vintage dolls I have restored </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">that are a bit larger <i>wedding cake toppers</i>.)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrUtWlU-7SclnaMopb_ot5RBwDyNDlbfkLwsScZvI17j50Az71U64otkODiDAIkm-L4KO04ebUQJtpSCKjIsMlNgTyR1KmfVWq8UbLdvHvK3OTHZZnn4T7KIkmmAXXi9l3EUHld-xfArg/s1600/OctoberLightSky.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrUtWlU-7SclnaMopb_ot5RBwDyNDlbfkLwsScZvI17j50Az71U64otkODiDAIkm-L4KO04ebUQJtpSCKjIsMlNgTyR1KmfVWq8UbLdvHvK3OTHZZnn4T7KIkmmAXXi9l3EUHld-xfArg/s320/OctoberLightSky.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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To Dad:</div>
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We love you Leonard. </div>
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We will miss your sweet smile and your ever gentle ways. </div>
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I will sorely and (forever) miss your little wave </div>
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and your overall way of being...</div>
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<br /></div>
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You graced our household peacefully and with a quiet manner.</div>
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My husband will miss so many things...too many to be numbered.</div>
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From his report, you made his childhood <b>great</b>.</div>
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<br /></div>
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You were a selfless provider for your family </div>
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nearly all of your days on this earth...</div>
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You were a (skilled) <i>worker of wood</i> and we have your table</div>
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and your well designed buffet cabinet...to prove it. </div>
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They are lasting and precious memories (in wood) of how you,</div>
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Dad, loved working with your hands. I remember</div>
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<i>the sawdust floor</i> of the last workshop that you had...</div>
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<br /></div>
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You were a gentleman in most all of your ways, Dad </div>
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and yet you asked <i>so little in return</i> from others... </div>
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I know <i>you loved us</i> and you were </div>
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a good and patient father and friend to me.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Thank you for being a part of our lives.<br />
<br /></div>
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Your daughter-in-law,<br />
Karen.</div>
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<br />
<br />
In memory of our loving 'Dad' and father<br />
dear<br />
Leonard Chandler Powell.<br />
Born: May 18th, 1933<br />
Gone to heaven: March 17th, 2018; 8:35 A.M.<br />
<br />
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<br />Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-78852135714175991442018-02-14T14:00:00.001-08:002018-02-14T14:00:52.894-08:00Happy Valentine's Day!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qWlMBzIQ_XjVqtp7T9XHA9-FkHooag9R3xVCzLC2D_ziVvMdi-93nkkgTu-vWxKWGgmYu8PkCYIU8Hdd1mIuXwD_93QYHcqFh_7hF-8jv85fg3fdW_nzG7aluTlBV5f26007PevOCd8/s1600/BarbieandKen4Ever.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1315" data-original-width="1600" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qWlMBzIQ_XjVqtp7T9XHA9-FkHooag9R3xVCzLC2D_ziVvMdi-93nkkgTu-vWxKWGgmYu8PkCYIU8Hdd1mIuXwD_93QYHcqFh_7hF-8jv85fg3fdW_nzG7aluTlBV5f26007PevOCd8/s640/BarbieandKen4Ever.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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"Barbie Meets Ken."</div>
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Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-88099444008443095982018-02-07T15:14:00.001-08:002018-02-07T15:14:16.464-08:00Picking out an outfit. :)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sCrFkm9s8xh7pTm7zsNqiK_A1p6hmgsP62EgnAFIiwlPLzSWgc0rlFita_UhC0vsaeIWpsZ3on8NqdSnjukzcsl7rM5HkxkwBDZEFk_5BNH0Ar6IKJogfRbKBNraaeyk1JTdeNoXu8w/s1600/PickinganOutfit-3-2018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1482" data-original-width="1600" height="592" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sCrFkm9s8xh7pTm7zsNqiK_A1p6hmgsP62EgnAFIiwlPLzSWgc0rlFita_UhC0vsaeIWpsZ3on8NqdSnjukzcsl7rM5HkxkwBDZEFk_5BNH0Ar6IKJogfRbKBNraaeyk1JTdeNoXu8w/s640/PickinganOutfit-3-2018.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The girls are hard at work.</div>
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<b><span style="color: blue;">:</span><span style="color: magenta;">)</span></b></div>
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(Working on the doll diorama these days as it has been </div>
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bitterly cold here in Wisconsin. Alas, I *just* </div>
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found out we are due for 6-10 MORE inches </div>
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of snow later this week into the weekend....)</div>
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Oh...how *I wish*</div>
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that <span style="color: #783f04;">spring </span>had <span style="color: #783f04;">sprung</span>...</div>
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<b><span style="color: #783f04;">:</span><span style="color: #666666;">(</span></b></div>
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Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-78695507123607730692018-02-02T13:19:00.001-08:002018-02-02T13:22:59.073-08:00Wedding cake toppers and more. :)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtLn9sznj0RZp56dnj1-HTpzfCdtN-Aad1oQStLr_FaiK65ryGiRnix37XVyI-mpN4uU929YliVVJupWhYrwcyk7Dv_kRPsvWWgOUXywMAgCoQccnL1EFmd67WnUnEziaiyOwDtjZ87W8/s1600/WeddingCakeTopperDolls-Nate-Silver.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtLn9sznj0RZp56dnj1-HTpzfCdtN-Aad1oQStLr_FaiK65ryGiRnix37XVyI-mpN4uU929YliVVJupWhYrwcyk7Dv_kRPsvWWgOUXywMAgCoQccnL1EFmd67WnUnEziaiyOwDtjZ87W8/s320/WeddingCakeTopperDolls-Nate-Silver.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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You can find me </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://vintagedollcloset.blogspot.com/2018/02/tree-is-down-and-new-wedding-cake.html">here</a></div>
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<br /></div>
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(...at the moment.)</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="color: blue;">;</span><span style="color: #38761d;">)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></b><b><span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span></b>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioMHMAQxcipZL-UhQgIgzR7FYRlFKTXJ2a5XyAl_ePiZ3ybKeZ3VwBqmZ7Xn7mHlntYzpSBY5RAtisv6aCOVPYx5fHcAu_UAkJELL22UIW7zBTJbBNILpSEfSXgzcGamuCxueWl1HxqfY/s1600/ForPhone-2018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1122" data-original-width="1600" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioMHMAQxcipZL-UhQgIgzR7FYRlFKTXJ2a5XyAl_ePiZ3ybKeZ3VwBqmZ7Xn7mHlntYzpSBY5RAtisv6aCOVPYx5fHcAu_UAkJELL22UIW7zBTJbBNILpSEfSXgzcGamuCxueWl1HxqfY/s200/ForPhone-2018.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525061611057949729.post-79227223784944719862017-12-19T06:45:00.003-08:002017-12-19T06:46:30.588-08:00Merry Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4v3-TLagwCz15rX9MHzLNE8Hv74Li3GdgIA1y-aZss4ukMNZG7M0tOcCAGwAD2mNYJS0K8xiG4LC1va8_MHaBLRKulelf3jg2-IcGa4jUx59vCRV7VJXmp5pBodRhJdSrV3IVXfeyYiQ/s1600/TreeUndone-2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1258" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4v3-TLagwCz15rX9MHzLNE8Hv74Li3GdgIA1y-aZss4ukMNZG7M0tOcCAGwAD2mNYJS0K8xiG4LC1va8_MHaBLRKulelf3jg2-IcGa4jUx59vCRV7VJXmp5pBodRhJdSrV3IVXfeyYiQ/s640/TreeUndone-2017.jpg" width="502" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">...</span><span style="color: #38761d;">t</span><span style="color: #274e13;">o</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">y</span><span style="color: #bf9000;">o</span><span style="color: #274e13;">u</span><span style="color: #134f5c;">.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>;</b></span><span style="color: blue;"><b>-</b></span><span style="color: #274e13;">)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiObfzhzNm9DqOzVrh18HyLldYARm43AFwmloidqBPkMXap-Ia5Ji3zhc-s54u6qD6Y7gS-SsoGrCMG322HrPU7_-1QJ8dGUNenHghPxltA5mTpSdk4gsa1HOyy8DCP4sbHtBZg69vmwr0/s1600/DadandLolaasChildren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiObfzhzNm9DqOzVrh18HyLldYARm43AFwmloidqBPkMXap-Ia5Ji3zhc-s54u6qD6Y7gS-SsoGrCMG322HrPU7_-1QJ8dGUNenHghPxltA5mTpSdk4gsa1HOyy8DCP4sbHtBZg69vmwr0/s200/DadandLolaasChildren.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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Louvregirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15052153326685432260noreply@blogger.com4