Animal Holiday Cheer - Times Ten!

Well, if you want to grin, and have that grow bigger and BIGGER into a huge SMILE, showing ALL your teeth, then turn into a chuckle to boot, press PLAY. This is sure to cheer you up. The fish, parrot, turtles, the ferret, the shark and a few of the dogs and cats -- their voices, the little pranks that creep into this will make anyone who is the least bit stressed or blue cheer up INSTANTLY!!!

PRESS PLAY - AND SHARE THIS LINK ON YOUR WALL to pass all that goodness along.



***There is a second of a squirrel***

You'll Love This

Thanksgiving, Like Winter, Awaits

Have to share a beautiful post with you from the blog of a very talented man who lives in a little house on the river somewhere in Ohio. He goes by a grand monkier: the Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself!

Every time I go to his blog, I get a sense of tranquility and peace. Somehow I can be restored and become centered in just that few minutes of reading, as if I've taken a walk in the forest or by the water's edge, in the snow or summer sun or brilliant falling leaves. How does he do that?

I highly recommend you scroll through and read his utterly lovely blog, and bookmark it to return all you want. He writes consistently, pieces of quality, thoughtful and thought provoking at times, entertaining and wry at others.

http://riverdaze.blogspot.com

Here is today's post, entitled: A Thankful Heart. I, for one, am printing it out to read over this Thanskgiving's meal. Emerson, Thoreau and Jefferson (Thomas, that is) -- you have company.

On the porch beneath a clabbered sky

I watch the day turn gold and slip away,

while gray squirrels rustle through leaves

browning beneath the big hackberry, and

chilled air carries a hint of woodsmoke.

Somewhere well upstream, geese are

honking on the wing, sharp yelps

marking their homeward passage

through twilight's steady gathering.

Another unveiled autumn plays out

as we rest in mild circadian confusion,

aware—though circumspect

in our affected silence—that November

will run its course and winter waits ahead.

Doesn't winter always wait ahead?

Isn't the still season of ice and cold and

keening wind always where years take us?

Is that why we make the time during

autumn's summation to gather 'round

a familiar table, bow our heads, and

declare our thanks before having our feast?

Do we celebrate in gratitude or prudence,

mindful that our lot is good, yet uneasy

we might have claimed too much credit

for the cornucopia we're about to enjoy?

The river is the color of old pewter in

the waning light, divided into many

small channels—a shredded ribbon,

whispering as it finds it way between stones.

Such beauty. And there, in the quiet eventide,

with a full moon rising to light the night,

I recount my blessings before the holy stars—

and pray I might always keep a thankful heart.