By Cheryl Ryan
and I could not be more excited! We’ve got our first storms this weekend and it feels and smells so fresh. Here are a few things from around the web for your storm reading pleasure.
If you’re looking for a new raincoat here are some to choose from.
You might want to check your makeup for phthalates. Recent reports confirm that it’s bad news for our health. You can use some of these apps that we wrote about last summer to check the ingredients in your cosmetic products.
This pumpkin muffin recipe is delicious and will go perfect with your morning coffee or tea.
Fall 2021 TV season is back. After last year’s pandemic marathon season, I had to take a TV viewing break, but I think I’m ready to watch some TV again. And if you’re feeling the same check out the new 2021 October streaming list and here is the new network release schedule.
Have you noticed that most poetry isn’t the rhyming kind that we learned in third-grade English class? I think I missed poetry writing 101 and every class after that. But lately, I’m noticing poetry for some reason. It’s been the chosen writing style throughout history for many of our most enduring stories. The Bible and Shakespeare are some of the most recognizable. But lately I’ve been noticing spoken-word and increasingly everyday poets posting their work. I recently stumbled on a homesteading (surprise surprise) / poet Instagram account. She ends many of her posts with a small daily poem and I find them sweet and uplifting so will share one here:
Here, On This Strange, Lovely Planet On my way to the post office, I pass a man walking his dog and also a ditch full of wild daisies. The daisies are gangly and glad as children in summer. The air is full of their giddy ideations. The man wears black knee high socks, wool sweater and the expression of someone who'd been promised ice cream but got cold oatmeal. His old dog walks so happily beside him, the leash lax and swinging easily. It's good to be loved. And isn't it good to be here, on this strange, lovely planet? Flowers dancing in the ditches; This man, his dog.
By Amy Woschek Schmidt @ poet.sew.it.grow.it on Instagram
It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring
He went to bed and bumped his head
And couldn’t get up in the morning.
Ah, i remember this poem being spoken at my bedside as a young boy -))
Love spoken word. Thanks for your uplifting, inspiring posts.