“Julian”

I had the wonderful pleasure of meeting Julian Lennon last night.   Since I raise and rescue doves, I brought along one of my own dove’s white feathers to give him.

Julian’s White Feather Foundation focuses on environmental and humanitarian causes.

Here are a couple of photos……..

 

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“That Birds Would Sing and Think it Were Not Night”……..for the Bard’s birthday

“That birds would sing and think it were not night” History tells of the birth and the death of Shakespeare on this day…. Perhaps the birds sang to rejoice in his first breath and sang again to mourn his last. A news reporter once interviewed Alan Cummings  on a morning  show. Cummings had been starring in an adaptation of Macbeth on Broadway. The newscaster asked Alan why actors still do plays in the “dead language of Shakespeare’s time.” Nobody understands what actors are saying, why don’t they just say it in English…….I think Alan was a little taken aback at his question…… Why do actors speak it, why do millions read it……… Because it is lilting, it is beautiful……it is the song of birds drifting on the breath of man’s voice. Yes, the birds must have sung the day he was born, and the day his pen lay silent…..

Birdsong is an enigma.   Most think birds sing when they are happy.  I have raised birds most of my life; birdsong is a song of loneliness for some, of possessiveness for others, of mating passions for all…..Loneliness, possessiveness, passion….sounds like the perfect plot to me, Will………

(the title quote is taken from Romeo and Juliet)

To read about my books, please visit my author page at Amazon

http://www.amazon.com/Shirl-Knobloch/e/B00OEW2XJQ/ref=sr_tc_2_

Blessings,

Shirl

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“Does anyone else feel the same”

Stories of generous donations have been broadcast on the news this morning……Millions given to rebuild Notre Dame.

It is hopeful……much of the structure has remained…..priceless relics have been saved.

But does anyone else feel the gravity of loss that can never be recaptured, despite any monumental restoration efforts?

She will be rebuilt; massive cranes will hoist new timbers to rebuild her roof……But never regain the majesty of those 800 year old hoisted timbers…..filled with the artisty, blood, and sweat of generation upon generation of artisans…….

Part of me wishes to encapsulate her in a glass shrine…….just as she is……having no more modern hands touch her ancient beauty.

I know that will not be……she will be restored…..she will be beautiful, France will see to that………But how can she ever be the same?……………………..

It took a couple of hundred years to create her magnificence; it will take years of labor to fulfill her destiny for the 22nd century and beyond…….

I wish I had seen her in person……but knowing her ancient timbers stood during my lifetime is enough of a blessing……Perhaps the world will realize that you may reproduce, restore, clone, and create whatever may be wished for in present and future technology; but once the original is gone…………….well……

Perhaps the adage is true…….nothing lasts forever…………..perhaps, not even our world.

Just my thoughts……..I welcome yours……..

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“The World Mourns”

The world mourns tonight…….something irreplaceable has been lost.

I cried today; I cried as if souls were perishing in those flames.

And they were…….the souls of a forest of ancient trees……yes, a forest of trees was needed for the Cathedral roof.

I cried for the souls of the artisans who climbed the heights, pieced together the stained glass, cut and shaped and sculpted each piece of wood and lead and statuary.

I prayed that Heaven would send a downpour to dampen all the flames……

My ancestors built Cathedrals….perhaps the part of them that rests inside my own soul cried beside my own tears……

France says it will rebuild.   Yes, rebuild, but never replace.

How do you replace 800 year old timbers, how do you replace the generations of skilled craftsmen who worked with their hands and hearts……

I never visited France;  I have only gazed upon the marvelous pictures and drawings of the Rose Window, the guarding Gargoyles, and the mesmerizing beauty of this Lady of Paris.

Everyone knows the phrase  “April in Paris.”   This April day in Paris will never be forgotten…Yes, the Lady has been through much.   She has been repaired throughout the centuries….I fear this time, repairs, however grandiose, will never bring her ancient glory back to a mourning world.

And so, the world mourns…….and a writer mourns in the best way she knows….with words, tonight.

 

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“Ruby, My Thief in the Night”

Ruby is my miniature poodle.   She is about five years old, the age when Chinese meat farm breeders find less use for their “cash cows” and sell them to the slaughterhouse.   Ruby was rescued on her way to that slaughterhouse.   Devoted angels on both sides of the sea enabled me to rescue her along with her poodle brother, Rusty,  rescued from the streets of Shanghai, as well.

Ruby never knew life outside her cage, never held a toy in her paws.   Now, she delights in collecting them…..She collects her own, her siblings, and visiting canine relatives who must relinquish all stuffed toys to her.

By day, Ruby sits by my side on the sofa while I read or knit.   By night, my reading glasses, my entire knitted piece, a skein of wool, or just a few strands of yarn make their way to the sofa.   Maybe it’s Ruby’s hoard.    I have read accounts of trauma survivors who become hoarders.   Captain George Pollard of the whaling ship “Essex” was discovered to have hoarded food in his Nantucket attic.   Depression era survivors always had a well stocked pantry………just in case…….

How can I be angry at Ruby for being a thief in the night……..Perhaps the darkness of night heightens fears that she will once again face the cruelty of her past……When she first came to me, she flinched at every move my hand made to reach down and pet her fearful body.  Now, there are still moments, when caught red handed, that she looks at me with fear in her eyes……Fear that I will act with cruelty and harm, not with love and understanding.

I love Ruby…..I smile when I see my reading glasses and yarn on the sofa.   Maybe it is her way of making sure there will be a tomorrow, sitting on the sofa, next to someone knitting or reading, or just loving her……♥p1200329

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“Chicken Bone Broth with Lavender and Chamomile…….Are you kidding me!!!!”

I went to my pet store today.   While in line at the register, I happened upon a package of chicken bone, organic, free range broth.   I smiled and pointed it out to my husband, thinking how the pet food industry has played right into loving owners’ hands and pockets.

Now, not just any bone broth will do…….it must be organic and free range for the price I imagine one can make and freeze a large supply at one’s own stove or crockpot.

But then, my eyes drifted towards something else……..Chicken bone broth with lavender and chamomile.

Ah……a nice cup of tea with lavender and chamomile sounds inviting tonight…….but do our pets need this in bone broth?

Who knew dogs craved the taste of lavender and chamomile.   Do we warm up a cup before bedtime so they will have a pleasant sleep?

I smirked to the cashier….Are you kidding me, now I have seen everything!   

“Oh no you haven’t” he replied and he was probably right.

I laughed and walked out of the store with my 200.00 price receipt for grain free cereal, banana and yogurt and salmon treats, and other necessities of life  ♥

At home, I told my daughter….  She smiled, ” Rusty is heading toward that lavender broth pretty soon, Mom.’

Maybe she’s right…………  🙂

To read how Rusty and Ruby, my two Chinese meat trade survivor poodles are now spreading light throughout China, click on my link……….

https://shirlknobloch.com/spreading-light-in-china?fbclid=IwAR3nueCU0bnX_-s2O4XeCI3MtjnpWQAe_agz2EHSMEeadeBYp_QnZnXs8xM

 

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“Wolfhound, Savage Killer of Beasts……..NOT”

Behind a closed bathroom door, my wolfhound is hiding.  She closes the door by herself, usually during a thunderstorm or fireworks.

Today, the monsters are the home renovators next door, tearing the second floor off our neighbor’s house.

People fear wolfhounds; how could you not be fearful of a “beast” that sometimes weighs more than you…….Mine does, and is taller on her hind legs than I am.

Wolfhounds are said to be gentle giants, unless provoked into fierce protectiveness for their owners.   I wonder how my Aura Lea would react, though I hope I never have to test that belief, especially if in danger during a thunderstorm or roof repair………

For now, she feels safe in her bathroom……meanwhile, my toy poodle is gazing up at the workers with serious intent in his eyes……….God forbid one of them gets too close with that hammer…….He will have to protect all of us  ♥

Love from all the pack,

Shirl

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