Thanks Spangle. Just tried that and it hasn't worked. Bah. Getting really fed up with this.

Can't post comments on the following Blogs.

I still can't post comments on the following sites, Krazy Krafts, Handmade by Picto and Crafty Bear. I am sorry folk, I have tried to leave you a comment several times and Blogger just seems to go around in circles. I have been on to Blogger to try and find out why but no response up to yet.

A walk down to the brook

Last winters picture but it gives you an idea.

I selfishly don't want them to grow up. We have so much fun. It must be true that when you reach a certain age you enter your second childhood.

We're trekking through the Rain Forrest,
Two five year olds and me.
Armed with walking sticks and boots,
We've climbed up every tree

We've stumbled over exposed roots,
Slashed all the nettles back.
Have been waylaid so many times,
Completely lost the track.

Broken through to blue, blue skies,
And green and grassy sloopes
That roll down to the Amazon
To throw Pooh Sticks for boats.

Needs must. We wade through rappids,
To reach the stepping stone.
Our Wellies filled with water,
How will we all get home.

Handmade Monday

I sat sewing outside my back gate this morning. I have a handy tree stump which is often used by dog walkers passing by. Most of them know I keep a supply of poo bags beneath it and that they are welcome to use them.
It was so quiet I could have heard a pin drop. I have tried to describe the peace I felt.

Summer Sunday
Not a breath of air,
Nor rustle of leaf
Make a sound from the trees
Above my seat.

The occasional flutter
From the wing of a bird
Or scamper of feet
From the squirrel can be heard.

All is well
With the world today
As we peacefully watch
Natures array.

The pile of sewing is where I sit.
Oh yes. I almost forgot. That is my latest quilt I am working on. Doing it the old fashioned way, all hand sewing. So both the ditty and the quilt are my contribution to Handmade Monday if I can find out how to join in. lol.

I have recently read something that made me want to qualify the existence of children and this is what I came up with.

Brats

A derogative term for a gift from God
They hide under many disguises.
And have so many collective names
Are always full of surprises.

They’re the backbone of humanity,
The present and the past.
Our successful handling of them
Ensures the future lasts.

These small beings must be treasured
Values to be instilled,
Our very existence depends
On all of them being fulfilled.

Crafting is not as lucrative as it used to be.

Todays Market

Old customs now are dying away,
Is mass production here to stay?
A lovely crafted, handmade gift
Wouldn’t receive much more than a sniff.

There’s a million others on the shelf
And the lonely one I made myself.
Is twice the price of a Sweatshop one.
I can’t compete, I’ve been outdone.

Made with so much love and care,
Would be a credit anywhere.
Buyers no longer circumspect
Pay for rubbish. That’s what they get.

New Kitchen?

I have no kitchen now it seems
The promise is, one of my dreams,
Nightmares prevail as we speak.
I’m mashing tea out in the street.

It’s brick dust sandwiches today
Yet again I hear you say.
Got TV in Greenhouse now
Can’t compete with all the row.

I am assured that when its done
Cooking will become such fun.
Make a change from being a chore
After all these years slaving for four.

Blogger Comments not working.

May I apologise to all those whom I follow for not appearing to comment on your blogs. Blogger won't let me do it at the moment. I understand that this is being corrected.