So, two holidays to celebrate!

Today we (or some of us) celebrate two national holidays. OK, I know the banks aren't closed, and there are really no decorations to hang or special twinkle lights in the window, but fun to celebrate anyway.


It is National Spider Day. I biked over to Aaron and Karen's early this morning to walk to the boys to school and announced it proudly. They have a pet tarantula which they proudly took out of the cage and took a photo.

I actually had to pet it as well. I think Karen is going to take it into school now that it is warm outside. As I was walking the boys to school Jonah proudly announced that now he wants a pet armadillo. (Did I mention that we live in northern Indiana?) This past week he wrote 15 poems about armadillos.

I think that quest will be up to the parents.

It is also National PI Day. Here is a fun video to spice up your day! Enjoy!

Please click on the video for all the credits and lots more songs to choose from!

Anyway, enjoy this wonderful day and sing up a storm and don't sweep up the spiders!

The most astounding fact about the Universe.

My Saturday column has created a wonderful buzz in my small town. I love getting your comments and emails! What is most interesting is how each one of you are "Saving the World" in your own ways.

You talk about kindness...bouquets of flowers...smiles...writing...cooking...

well, the list goes on and on.

The discussions have taken place at my dining room table, at the Spring Expo, and in the home of Carolyn and Elten.

On Saturday evening several of us were invited to a dinner party. We viewed a spectacular sunset out their windows overlooking the prairie. After dinner we gathered in the living room for Carolyn's events. With a fire going and friends circled around me, I was asked to read my column. Following that we watched the above video and then went out into the night air to view the sky. With the moon beginning to wane, the sky was brilliant with stars and planets. I hope you have been watching Venus and Mars this past month. Simply spectacular.

We all came back into the house with quiet reverence and awe.

Saving the world means saving ourselves as well.

night of moonless glow

glittering drops of stardust

illuminates souls



Art Out My Window

This photo was taken in Indianapolis last fall. I was driving to Ellen's and actually had to pull into a subdivision to get the shot. I didn't have time to put down my window or get out of the car. By the time I did so, the rainbow was faded and gone.

When my father was alive he would always tell me that we carry our rainbows with us and that we are the pot of gold. His words of wisdom have carried me through many trials in this life and continue to do so.

I miss him every day, especially when it rains and poetry fills my heart as it does today. Thank you to my daddy, I wish you were here with me today.

Saving the world one story at a time!

Click here for this week's column on How To Save the World!

As always, thank you for reading my blog. I know leaving a comment appears to be difficult, but give it a try, I would love to hear from you!
Lou Ann

Writer's group and saving the world..

I started a writer's group this past Autumn for writer's in my northern Indiana area. There are five of us who are committed to this cause and meet twice a month to share our thoughts, writings, postings, etc.

We bring quotes and books and even writing contests to the group. Not everyone is wanting to be published, and we all have our own goals.

The wine was low, the night late when I simply said, "Writers can save the world."
There was silence and then Stephen began to laugh. "No one can save the world," he said, "not even writers."

I started thinking about his comment. Are my glasses so rose colored that I think that writers, poets, artists, dreamers of dreams can save the world?

I have always thought that artists are more in tune to sunsets and foggy mornings. Or is it just me and the way I look at life?

Is the way I look at life the reason I write...or do I write because I look at life the way I do?

A few years ago I took my own hobo train trip across country. What I attempted to find out was whether hobos became writers or did writers become hobos? The question was left unanswered.

For now, I can dream that my blog, my columns, my way of thinking will somehow save the world...or maybe it will just save me?

Poetry Passage

This early morning by candlelight I read this poem to Matthew and Jonah. It is from a compilation of poems by Josette Frank with paintings by Thomas Locker.

The book is called Snow Towards Evening, and this is the March poem.

Mountain Brook

Because of the steepness,

the streamlet runs white,

narrow and broken

as lightning by night.

Because of the rocks,

it leaps this way and that,

fresh as a flower,

quick as a cat.

Written by Elizabeth Coatsworth

Whereas I do not have a mountain brook or a stream or even a rivulet of water, March is in the air here in northern Indiana. My neighbor saw his first robin yesterday, and my bird feeders are full of birds flying in and out as if I am a local diner on their way to somewhere!

Here is also a lovely rendition of the Lady of Shallot.

Art Out my Window...

Snow falls and swirls out my window as I sit in the studio hammering out words by the dozens. When March arrives I always wonder about each snowfall whether it will be the last one of the year. Thinking as I do, I appreciate each snowflake the drapes my still-asleep garden. Will this be the last or next week will I ask the same question? I think the answer lies in the wonderment of life thinking that everything has a first and a last. It is up to us to appreciate each moment.

My quote comes from writer, Matthew Brown. He is a contributing writer for Acres. Thank you for letting me quote this lovely piece, Matthew.

The photo, Art Out my Window, is through my  dining room window art. I decorate my windows with stained glass and prisms. Enjoy.

Utter Stillness Rules These Woods

Beyond the window

a white appears as if from fog,

a white containing its own light.

Outside every tree, every branch

and each dry weed is frosted

with a condensation of snow;

seeds that cling to the ash

are now glass ornaments,

more than ornaments.

It's as though the waters themselves

had stood up as trees

filled with light.

Matthew Brown