I don't think to many words are necessary, so I'll just let you soak in the beautifulness of these books. And a few words I have come across, but do not belong to me.
I drove past a house the other day and it inspired me to write, this;
Once this was not a sad little house, I am sure. Once a man, or maybe more, laboured on its foundations. Each wooden slat, cut and placed by loving hands. With joy and laughter, looking forward to a brighter future, this house rose up from the steep hill. Finally the wife arrived, the furniture, and the corrugated iron for the roof. It rumbled up on a slow moving wagon, drawn by a team of oxen, maybe. Maybe they had trudged the tree boarded track up the mountains for days, weeks.
Once, maybe once, the young wife ran up and into her husbands arms, so glad that they were together again. So glad of the beautiful house, a house of her own, with wooden boards to sweep the dust from. Together they would make this their home, possibly.
As the rain fell, it drummed down on the roof, horrendously noisy, but they sat together, knowing that the house was solid built. It would not blow away, or collapse like a tent of canvas. Maybe soon after that children could have come.
Once they could have leaped off the bottom step and run down the slope, crossing over the fallen tree that bridged the creek, and jumped into their fathers arms as he arrived home. Did he come from taking their cattle to market? Or selling the furs of the animals he trapped? Or from the homestead where The Boss lived?
Other times the children could have run with buckets down to the bubbling mountain stream and tried to catch the little mosquito fish, that darted through the clear water. Little trousers, or skirts, hoisted high. Maybe muddy little feet ran back up the hill to show Mother their prizes. Or maybe they fished out the fat black tadpoles, and kept them in a jar, watching as they grew legs, squiggly tails shrank and then disappeared.
Once upon a time, long ago, many things could have happened in and around that happy little house. House of promises, hopes and dreams, once. Now though, it sits a weathered grey. On a hillside, far from anywhere, a dull house rots, silent except for the clatter, bang, and scratch of the rusted iron roofing, that has now come loose. Each gust of wind, pulls at the house, and it succumbs, sinking away, slowly returning to dust, and memories.
What memories it must hold though, if only I could hear it speak. If only the creaks, could, be interpreted, or the language of old things found out. But the people who lived there once, have gone, grown old and died. Maybe the children still live on somewhere, I wonder have they forgotten, the once happy little house on a hill. Or are they no longer, here to be able to remember, have they too passed away. I do not know, but I wonder, what does that sad little house remember?
Once this was not a sad little house, I am sure. Once a man, or maybe more, laboured on its foundations. Each wooden slat, cut and placed by loving hands. With joy and laughter, looking forward to a brighter future, this house rose up from the steep hill. Finally the wife arrived, the furniture, and the corrugated iron for the roof. It rumbled up on a slow moving wagon, drawn by a team of oxen, maybe. Maybe they had trudged the tree boarded track up the mountains for days, weeks.
Once, maybe once, the young wife ran up and into her husbands arms, so glad that they were together again. So glad of the beautiful house, a house of her own, with wooden boards to sweep the dust from. Together they would make this their home, possibly.
As the rain fell, it drummed down on the roof, horrendously noisy, but they sat together, knowing that the house was solid built. It would not blow away, or collapse like a tent of canvas. Maybe soon after that children could have come.
Once they could have leaped off the bottom step and run down the slope, crossing over the fallen tree that bridged the creek, and jumped into their fathers arms as he arrived home. Did he come from taking their cattle to market? Or selling the furs of the animals he trapped? Or from the homestead where The Boss lived?
Other times the children could have run with buckets down to the bubbling mountain stream and tried to catch the little mosquito fish, that darted through the clear water. Little trousers, or skirts, hoisted high. Maybe muddy little feet ran back up the hill to show Mother their prizes. Or maybe they fished out the fat black tadpoles, and kept them in a jar, watching as they grew legs, squiggly tails shrank and then disappeared.
Once upon a time, long ago, many things could have happened in and around that happy little house. House of promises, hopes and dreams, once. Now though, it sits a weathered grey. On a hillside, far from anywhere, a dull house rots, silent except for the clatter, bang, and scratch of the rusted iron roofing, that has now come loose. Each gust of wind, pulls at the house, and it succumbs, sinking away, slowly returning to dust, and memories.
What memories it must hold though, if only I could hear it speak. If only the creaks, could, be interpreted, or the language of old things found out. But the people who lived there once, have gone, grown old and died. Maybe the children still live on somewhere, I wonder have they forgotten, the once happy little house on a hill. Or are they no longer, here to be able to remember, have they too passed away. I do not know, but I wonder, what does that sad little house remember?
I recently saw a 'stacking the shelves' post on a blog I follow and thought I would join in. As far as I understand a link up happens each week at Tynga's Reviews. I don't follow her blog or anything so I don't know what exactly the content is or if I agree with reviews and such, (just wanted to make that clear). And all a 'stacking the shelves' post is, is a post about all the new books you/I have acquired! The ones in my post are some of those I got at the annual book fair, which I did a blog post on the other day.
I have recently acquired a few more books, which could be accounted for by the time of year. At this time of year I get excited and wait and wait to find out which weekend the book fair is on. There are hundreds and hundreds of books there each year and I take a few home. This year I got... only three..... bags full.
I tend to review books that I like on my blog and keep silent about those that I don't. They all get some kind of review on Goodreads, but maybe I should just say that I definitely don't give glowing reviews to everything. If you are a die hard fan of Jane Austen, then I would suggest that you not read this review, as I gave this book 1 star on Goodreads, which is the lowest you can give.
I was a beta reader for this book and also participated in the cover reveal and now I am reviewing it just before it is released. Those are not the reasons I like this story though. I like it because it is a story of wonder, beauty, heartbreak, healing, a story to remind us that we are not made for this world.
"Deep in a forest glade, the fey folk dance with Isidore, a young human child. Their kinship is the very fabric of her childhood. When her mother dies and her world darkens with sorrow, Isidore finds her belief in the fey folk wavering.
The love of her new step-sister, Blessing, proves an unexpected gift in her time of need. Yet even as their friendship blooms, Isidore begins to see that Blessing is everything she herself has always wanted to be, but is not. Jealousy grips Isidore as she watches this beautiful new sister steal away all she holds dear.
Driven to desperation, Isidore turns to the fey folk once more. She has only one wish to claim from them, one chance to make things right. But she must tread carefully. For wishes, like hearts, are easily broken. And obtaining the one thing she desires could mean destroying the one thing she truly needs."
It wrote most of this post last month and took the photos then, but I had not posted it, because I temporarily lost the photos. Now they are found I have posted this, this month, instead of last month. Though I could have backdated it and posted this post, that belongs to last month, this month, but make it appear to have been posted last month. That would be to confusing though. So here is what I had to say about life in the realm of birds for the month of July.
Along came another tag and I grabbed it as it passed. Sadly the rules did not manage to slip through my fingers, though they were changed a little. I like riddles, probably because I am good at them...well it's true. So thanks to Katie from Sparkly Ambitions I have been tagged. But I must begin.
To read of and glimpse the first part of the day read this post. For the second part, all you have to do is continue on.
I have set mine eyes upon snow twice in my life. Just a week ago the second time came around. At the beginning of the day we were rather in doubt as to whether the weather would be horrid or not. The predictions spoke of rain, and we did not even know if there would be any snow left, from all the falls on the weekend when everything on Barrington Tops had got covered in a heavy shroud of snow. We set off despite all dire predictions, as we had planed... well rather spontaneously the night before.
The book shop is the best shop in town.... and one of the most dangerous places for me to go, whether I have any money to spend or not. We are friends with the shop owner and I just enjoy being in there, with all the books! I may have walked out without a book once.... maybe... I took some photos last time we went, to go with a silly rhyme I made up. So come with me and take a tour of our local bookstore. Or at least many of the more interesting shelves.
I just finished listening to the audio book of Warbreaker by Brandon Sanderson
I really would not recommend reading the synopsis from Goodreads, it gives away way too much, here is the one I read.
"An author whose previous, wildly successful novels have earned him a reputation as fantasy's master of magic, Brandon Sanderson continues to dazzle audiences with this tale of princesses and gods. In this extraordinary world, those who attain glory return as gods. And those who can master the essence known as breath can perform the most wondrous miracles - or unleash the most devastating havoc."
I gave this book 5 stars on Goodreads, but I possibly should have given it four.... there are no half stars though. Rating books is really hard.
Warning: there are a few minor spoilers in this review.
I really would not recommend reading the synopsis from Goodreads, it gives away way too much, here is the one I read.
"An author whose previous, wildly successful novels have earned him a reputation as fantasy's master of magic, Brandon Sanderson continues to dazzle audiences with this tale of princesses and gods. In this extraordinary world, those who attain glory return as gods. And those who can master the essence known as breath can perform the most wondrous miracles - or unleash the most devastating havoc."
I gave this book 5 stars on Goodreads, but I possibly should have given it four.... there are no half stars though. Rating books is really hard.
Warning: there are a few minor spoilers in this review.
I chewed harder; my teeth grating together, with a gulp, another mouthful of the fruit scratched its way to fill the pit of my stomach, sharp edges catching at my throat. Yet I cannot stop. My jaws keep working and again I swallow... I swallow what feels like rocks picked up from beside a path, gravel.
11th October 1943 A British spy plane crashes in Nazi-occupied France. Its pilot and passenger are best friends. One of the girls has a shot at survival. The other has lost the game before it's barely begun.
Our church had a ladies dessert night last night. Bel Thompson gave her testimony and sang some of her beautiful songs. She reminded everyone of how special each of us are and how much God loves us. Which of course is true and I enjoyed it very much.
I did think this though;
It is not just about love.
Love is only one of the first baby steps.
Our journey with God is so much more
our life, in EVERY way should be dedicated
devoted to God
ALL we do, say, think, should be for
the GLORY of God
I scribbled this onto a serviette while I was listening to one of her songs.
Feel free to use the wallpaper if you wish, but for personal use only.
It is here, the cover of The Tournament at Gorlan! And it is supposed to be released on October the 6th 2015. I had a lot more ravings about it in a previous post. I also linked to a place where you can read an exert, the first few pages of The Tournament at Gorlan. Mostly it is Halt at his worst, or gloomiest.... typical Halt.
