Monthly Archives: May 2015
Many thousands of species call Coral Reefs home~
Picture credit: underwater universe
Yesterday on WUCF, our local PBS Channel, there was an excellent dual story about Coral Reefs and the depressing decline of them worldwide and also one about the alarming situation with Oysters.
Coral Reefs are one of the most threatened and most in perilof all the world’s ecosystems and the future does not look good, unless, we step in and do what is necessary to stop what may soon become complete decimation.
Renowned Australian Scientist, Marine Ecologist, Dr. Katharina Fabricius and her team have worked tirelessly for many years studying the negative impacts of various factors on Coral Reefs and Marine Life around the Globe and the program yesterday was dedicated to their work.
Living here in the Sunshine State, we are blessed with the ability to take a short drive down to the Keys and see our very own Coral Reefs in the Florida Keys…
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Masterpiece: “THE ALLEE OF ALYSCAMPS”, Vincent Van Gogh
History Of Croatians In Mother’s Image
This is a beautiful sculpture. The artist was very talented. Happy Mother’s Day my friend. Hugs, Barbara
Croatia, the War, and the Future
“History of Croatians”
sculpture by Ivan Mestrovic
It’s Mother’s Day today and I pay special tribute to a most special mother to Croatians.
Eighty-three years ago, in 1932, Croatian world-renowned artist and sculptor Ivan Mestrovic (1883-1962) created a marvelous sculpture through which he would interpret and symbolise the history of the Croatian people. Ivan Mestrovic’s sculpture of a mother, his mother, holding on her lap a stone tablet with “History of Croatians” engraved in the old Croatian script Glagoljica on its spine, has become a companion of Croats wherever they may go or wherever they are. She is the keeper of the Croatian identity; she is the keeper of the Croatian heritage. Ivan Mestrovic entrusted unto the mother the keeping and the nurturing of Croatian people’s heritage and the people had embraced that mother, as it is also a symbol of Homeland.
Through this sculpture Ivan Mestrovic presents…
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Mothers Of Dead, Killed By Police. #MillionMomsMarch
My love is unconditional. Your action is irrelevant.
Sunday Roast: Happy Mother’s Day
Awwww, it’s my Mom… on a tiny pony. She looks to be about three years old, which dates this photo to the WWII years.
I’ve always wondered about this photo — why was such a photo taken, when her parents weren’t country people? They lived in the big city of Cleveland, Ohio! Then I remember that, of my maternal grandmother’s many pregnancies, my Mom was her only living child. So when the opportunity arose to put her only baby girl on the back of a pony for a photo-op, you know that was totally happening.
I never met my maternal grandparents — my grandmother having died of breast cancer when my Mom was 13, and my grandfather having died suddenly when Mom was in her last year of high school — but I like to think they were nice people. She didn’t talk about them much. They gave her a…
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“When God Created Mothers”
When the Good Lord was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of “overtime” when the angel appeared and said. “You’re doing a lot of fiddling around on this one.”
And God said, “Have you read the specs on this order?” She has to be completely washable, but not plastic. Have 180 moveable parts…all replaceable. Run on black coffee and leftovers. Have a lap that disappears when she stands up. A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair. And six pairs of hands.”
The angel shook her head slowly and said. “Six pairs of hands…. no way.”
It’s not the hands that are causing me problems,” God remarked, “it’s the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have.”
That’s on the standard model?” asked the angel. God nodded.
One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, ‘What are you…
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728. There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air is softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again. ~Elizabeth Lawrence
Poetry is a rich, full bodied whistle,
Cracked ice crunching in pails,
The night that numbs the leaf,
The duel of two nightingales,
The sweat pea that has run wild,
Creation’s tears in shoulder blades.
Well, perhaps not every child had such a garden in their childhood, but I wish they had. I did, but the enchanted place was actually all the blocks around our house more than just a single garden. Nevertheless, Lawrence’s description fits my childhood perfectly. For, you see, in southern California where my life began, flowers grow everywhere, and many of the houses, like ours, which were perpendicular to the Pacific Ocean had car-width alleyways behind them. While many of the backyards were filled with all kinds flowers, the fences along the alleys were covered oftentimes with sweet pea vines. So strong an imprint did those images and scents make on my mind, heart…
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