tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13427017313169279142011-07-07T17:00:44.779-07:00spirit crierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03405324395027453860noreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1342701731316927914.post-31338372125031121102010-01-02T12:56:00.000-08:002010-01-02T14:41:15.401-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vHvokTRb8M4/Sz_K4G-c3QI/AAAAAAAAACM/moSIRBB0L4k/s1600-h/meek%27s+park+behind+the+fern.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 139px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vHvokTRb8M4/Sz_K4G-c3QI/AAAAAAAAACM/moSIRBB0L4k/s200/meek%27s+park+behind+the+fern.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422275541671402754" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vHvokTRb8M4/Sz_JvYj04SI/AAAAAAAAACE/6-otpjd2egI/s1600-h/meek%27s+park+behind+the+fern.jpg"></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF00;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><div><div><div>Artis't Profile</div><div>Once upon a time, I lived completely for family, home and job. Within a period of two years, I lost it all. Devastated and overwhelmed, I had to begin again. Looking for new direction, I moved to the beautiful Appalachian Mountains of North Georgia. I continued on my passion for singing and songwriting. I gained inspiration while walking the trails and exploring nature and its awesome beauty. I've simplified my life and am content to just be, </div><div> to express me.</div></div><div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><div> The Joy of Being</div><div><br /></div><div> Sweet breezes carry honeysuckle from an old barbed wire fence</div><div> Soothing sounds fill the air from the frquenting song birds. </div><div> A butterfly clings to a rock</div><div> Flaunting and flirting while drying its wings.</div><div> Savoring the morning sunlight</div><div> Colored in yellow and edged in black.</div><div> It briefly explores the sequestered nooks </div><div> Quietly and softly it flutters away.</div><div> Dazzling everything in its path. </div><div> It knows no past </div><div> It knows no future </div><div> Only the now and the joy of being! </div><div> </div><div> Patricia Ann Edstrom </div><div> Blairsville, GA</div><div> USA</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br /></div></div><div> </div></div></div></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33FF33;"> </span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1342701731316927914-3133837212503112110?l=spiritcriersartworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>spirit crierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03405324395027453860noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1342701731316927914.post-50052382286530908172008-08-19T11:20:00.000-07:002008-08-19T11:32:24.460-07:00'WHAT I SEE'<br /><br /><br />I think about living on a beautiful farm. As far as I can see, fertile fields of green grass swaying gently in the breeze. Cross fences of barbbed wire and rustic wooden gates. Cows and horses grazing contently. Chickens in the barnyard, scratching in the dirt. A pond, filled with frogs and cattails. A pathway, leading to a wonderful, huge, old and grey barn. Somehow, words can't begin to describe this heaven on earth picture that is floating in my mind. Crude though it may be, I've drawn a picture of a little that I see.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1342701731316927914-5005238228653090817?l=spiritcriersartworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>spirit crierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03405324395027453860noreply@blogger.com0