Love That Will Not Die

There is with the change of season 

a bit of melancholy

- a longing to hold fast

to what must inevitably pass.

Yet there remains a element

of stillness 

then peace.

For what we long to hold close

is what we have loved.

And even though all things must pass away - 

our love remains -

the emptiness

is filled

with

memory

and

love

that will not die.

                                                                                      Janene Baadsgaard

 

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The Magic of a Moment with Alisa Baadsgaard

My daughter Alisa.

 

My twelve-year-old daughter Alisa is a wonderful artist

who sees beauty and wonder everywhere.

Sometimes she captures the moment with her camera,

sometimes with a song she composes

and other times with a drawing.

She recently won the statewide "Make Your Mark" Bookmark Design Contest

that came with a $1,000 UESP college savings certificate.

This is Alisa's Book Mark Design

 

Alisa also recently took this picture that I love.

This is what she said about it. . .

 

"I took this picture of my four-year-old niece

while we were blowing bubbles in our backyard.

I chose to use bubbles as my subject because

 they are so magical and only last a moment.

The bubble represents one moment in time.

The things we enjoy most don't last.

You have to catch and enjoy each fleeting moment before it is gone.

The tiny hands represent the beauty and magic of childhood.

For children grow up and soon they're grown.

When I printed this picture,

I was surprised to see that the bubble looked as though it could be a fragile earth,

suspended in black space.

We live out our lives on this delicate orb.

Our very existence is a magical moment in time." 

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The Gift of a Brother

Emily with baby brother Daniel.

 One of the greatest gifts a parent can give a child is the gift of a brother or a sister. These are the people you grow up with, the people who know you best, the people who are always there for you. Friends come and go like the leaf in the wind. A brother or a sister is yours forever.



Andrew finally has a brother!

Libby with baby brother Daniel.

Sandy with baby brother Daniel.

Jordan and Karen Baadsgaard family in the hospital after Daniel is born.

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Daniel Rayne Baadsgaard is Born Today!

My newest grandchild Daniel Rayne was born today. He weighed 8 lbs 3 oz.
I can't wait to hold him in my arms.
His middle name is a combination of his two grandfathers - Ross and Thayne.

Mother and baby are doing well.

This is the fifth child for my son Jordan and his wonderful wife Karen.
Congratulations!

There is nothing more important than the birth of a brand new person. There is no greater miracle. I applaud every mother and father that is willing to welcome a new child into their heart and home. Pin It

Autumn's Invitation To Pause

Autumn invites us to wander - to see natural beauty in both the great and the small.

Fall days are alternately large, grand and stunning - then small, quiet and still.

Splendor is in found in grand mountain landscapes or in a single crimson jewel.

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Poem For A Two-Year-Old

When You’re Two

By Granny B

Happy Birthday Rylan!

I can’t believe you’re two.

Here is a poem I wrote just for you.

 

 I’m so tired said mother to her son

All day long you keep me on the run

I’m so tired said boy to his mom

There’s so much food to make into bombs.

 

Boy smiles and mother sighs

Sometimes they both don’t see eye-to-eye

For little boys and moms have so much work

That sometimes they both go berserk

 

Yet it takes a mother to show the way

Before boy becomes a man someday.

 

So for now . . .

 

Boys have holes to dig

And shoes to fill are way too big

Boys have rocks to huck

And goose-egg lack of luck

Boys have trucks to propel

And lots of screams to exhale

Boys have hills and beds to romp

And lots of bugs to stomp

 

And when the day is done

And two sleepy heads can’t run

Moms and boys still give lots of hugs

For that’s what love is really made of

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The Last Rose of Summer by Thomas Moore

This morning I walked our garden,
gathering the last of our harvest before the frost.
That's when I saw her . . . the last rose of summer.
These words with the traditional melody filled my mind
with longing and with song.

'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rose bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
To pine on the stem,
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go sleep thou with them;
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie, scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from loves shining circle
the gems drop away,
When true hearts lie withered,
And fond ones are flown,
Oh,who would inhabit
this bleak world so alone.

'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left a bloomin alone.
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Autumn Musings

We watch them leave home in autumn.

 

At the curtain waving good-bye.

We are the ones breathing a sigh.

 

As trees lose their leaves

in the brisk mountain air-

limbs become sullen, dark, and bare.

 

Then flowing like honey to the valley floor,

the season reappears and gives us more.

 

 

Crimson, copper and gold all about,

as if to say good-bye with a majestic shout.

Each day is fleeting like a leaf on the wind-

yet as one season passes, another begins.

 

Like wind through the forest or small grains of sand,

the boy we once knew has become a man.

Now our little girl, once covered in lace,

becomes a new mother and takes our place.

 

Cycle of living, season of song, embraces and whispers,

 

"Life goes on."

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