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A little Dickinson in December

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.                                 ~ Emily Dickinson

Look what my beautiful husband did for me.  He hung all these ornaments in our lone apple tree on one of the coldest days of the year.  Every time I look out our kitchen window and see it, I smile.  It makes me happy.

Slow down Mr. Jamison… I know you just had a birthday, but you’re not 3 yet.

I needed a little Dickinson today.  And some pictures that make me smile.  Duck, duck, GOOSE!

What’s better than a grandpa that loves you to pieces? …

Two grandpas that do.


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