"We don't stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing." ~George Bernard Shaw

"Look at everything as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time." ~Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Magpie 93 or Years of Use

Ol' Red was a faithful friend
Enduring bouncing little feet
Drooling dogs chewing bones
Popsicles and sticky treats
Grownups sleepily snoring
Through TV shows oh so boring
Now all Ol' Red hears is a woosh
The cars are passing by..... swoosh

This book the Red Couch marks the culmination
of the four-year adventure of two award winning
photographers who traversed the USA with an eight
foot long red velvet couch and the dream of creating
a portrait of America. The Red Couch is a stunningly
beautiful diary of a dream fulfilled, a portrait of
America in all her diversity and the story of
adventures nonpareil.
Photographers Kevin Clarke and Horst Wackerbarth

Monday, November 21, 2011

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Magpie #92 or Snuggling

That snuggling,cuddling,kissing,
Curled up warm hugging I'm missing
Watching you sleep sweetly snoozing
Wake up honey- it's far more amusing.....!


I am thankful everyday for Russell-
my best friend-my lifes partner
and all our beloved children and friends.
Happy Thanksgiving to all!

image: Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Eric Alders Monday Photo Prompt

Money will never buy youth
Won't erase those well earned
Wrinkles from the tanning booth

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Magpie Tales 91 or Choices

Where do I sit
Where do I belong
Can I change my mind
And what if I'm wrong
It's so confusing
This life of mine
So many choices
and so little time.


for more Magpie Tales go here:

Wednesday, November 09, 2011


photo by Eric Alder

Gasping for breath

Crowded into dwindling resources

We refuse to stop the madness

That is killing us


Monday, November 07, 2011

Magpie #90 or No Place

I know you're here

I know you're there

Always in my heart with me

Twenty five years ago my mother died.

Within 24 hours of her death my father

had her cremated and ashes scattered over

the Sierras. No one, not even my father,

went on the plane. I have always felt remorse

that she was alone on her final journey.