Hens Deserve Better

Source: hensdeservebetter.org.au via RSPCA on Pinterest

My Autumn Garden

The mums were here in time for Mother's Day and glorious as per usual.

First camellia of the year, a bit rain damaged but still pretty.

My beautiful Prayer Plant - thank you Phyl, I think of you every time I look at it.

Cool Craft Tool

God's Not Dead

TO BELIEVE

HAPPY AUSTRALIA DAY

MY COUNTRY

A poem by Dorothea Mackellar

The love of field and coppice,
Of green and shaded lanes,
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running in your veins,
Strong love of grey-blue distance,
Brown streams and soft dim skies,
I know but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains;
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror-
The wide brown land for me!

The tragic ringbarked forests,
Stark white beneath the moon,
The sapphire misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon,
Green tangle of the brushes,
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree tops
And ferns the crimson soil.

Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When sick at heart around us
We see the cattle die-
But then the grey clouds gather
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady soaking rain.

Core of my heart my country!
Land of the Rainbow Gold,
For flood and fire and famine
She pays us back threefold,
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze.

An opal-hearted country,
A wilful lavish land-
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand-
Though earth holds many splendours
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country,
My homing thoughts will fly.

THE STORY BEHIND THE PICTURE OF THE PRAYING HANDS

Many of us have seen the picture of "The Praying Hands", which is present in many Christian homes but would almost certainly not have heard the moving story behind this popular picture.

Here is the story.... 

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children.  Eighteen!  In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood. 

Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of the elder children, Albrecht and Albert, had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy. 

After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines. 

They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works. 

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming.  After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to  Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you." 

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No.. no.. no.. no." 

Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look... Look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly In my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush.  No, brother...for me it is too late." 

More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office. 

One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer

painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply "Hands," but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love "The Praying Hands." 

The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!

HAPPY NEW YEAR FOR 2012

I would like to wish everyone a very happy, 

very safe, very healthy and very prosperous 

New Year for 2012.

Auld Lang Syne         ["for (the sake of) old times".]

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
 and never brought to mind ?


Should old acquaintance be forgot,
 and old lang syne ?

CHORUS:

For auld lang syne, my dear,

for auld lang syne,

we'll take a cup of kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

And surely you’ll buy your pint cup !
and surely I’ll buy mine !


And we'll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine;


But we’ve wandered many a weary foot, 
since auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine;
 But seas between us broad have roared
 since auld lang syne.

CHORUS

And there’s a hand my trusty friend !


And give us a hand o’ thine!


And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
 for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

A NEW YEAR THOUGHT

Even though none of us can go back and make a brand new start,

Anyone can start today and make a brand new finish.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS ONE & ALL

Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us.  

(Matthew 1:23)  

Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men 

(Luke 2:14)

Why Jesus is Better than Santa Claus

Santa lives at the North Pole...

JESUS is everywhere.

Santa rides in a sleigh...

JESUS rides on the wind and walks on the water.

Santa comes but once a year...

JESUS is an ever present help.

Santa fills your stockings with goodies...
JESUS supplies all your needs.

Santa comes down your chimney uninvited...
JESUS stands at your door and knocks, and then enters your heart when invited.

You have to wait in line to see Santa...
JESUS is as close as the mention of His name.

Santa lets you sit on his lap...
JESUS lets you rest in His arms.

Santa doesn't know your name, all he can say is "Hi little boy or girl, what's your name?"...

JESUS knew our name before we were born. Not only does He know our name, He knows our address too. He knows our history and future and He even knows how many hairs are on our heads.

Santa has a belly like a bowl full of jelly...
JESUS has a heart full of love.

All Santa can offer is HO HO HO...
JESUS offers health, help and hope.

Santa says "You better not cry"...
JESUS says "Cast all your cares on me for I care for you."

Santa's little helpers make toys...
JESUS makes new life, mends wounded hearts, repairs broken homes and builds mansions.

Santa may make you chuckle but...
JESUS gives you joy that is your strength.

While Santa puts gifts under your tree...
JESUS became our gift and died on a tree... the cross.

We need to put Christ back in CHRISTmas, Jesus is still the reason for the season.

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life" (John 3:16).

FROM:  http://www.holytrinitynewrochelle.org/yourti93646.html 
[Many more wonderful Christian items on this site]

If Time Is All I Have by James Blunt

There's a timely message in this video for this time of the year (well, any time of the year really)! 


Please drive safely always but especially over this 2011 Christmas/New Year period.  


It's a beautiful, but sad, song from a beautiful man and the message is clear.

4 Outlet: 1 Foot Switch Powerboard with Surge & Telecom's Surge Protection : Greentopia eco & green products

4 Outlet: 1 Foot Switch Powerboard with Surge & Telecom's Surge Protection : Greentopia eco & green products

Remembrance Day 2011

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place: and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

John McCrae (1872–1918)

Remembrance Day (also known as Poppy Day, Armistice Day and Veterans Day) is a memorial day observed in Commonwealth countries since the end of World War I to remember the members of their armed forces who have died in the line of duty. This day, or alternative dates, are also recognized as special days for war remembrances in many non-Commonwealth countries. Remembrance Day is observed on 11 November to recall the official end of World War I on that date in 1918; hostilities formally ended "at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month" of 1918 with the German signing of the Armistice ("at the 11th hour" refers to the passing of the 11th hour, or 11:00 a.m.)

The day was specifically dedicated by King George V on 7 November 1919 as a day of remembrance of members of the armed forces who were killed during World War I. This was possibly done upon the suggestion of Edward George Honey to Wellesley Tudor Pole, who established two ceremonial periods of remembrance based on events in 1917.^[1]

The red remembrance poppy has become a familiar emblem of Remembrance Day due to the poem "In Flanders Fields". These poppies bloomed across some of the worst battlefields of Flanders in World War I, their brilliant red colour an appropriate symbol for the blood spilled in the war.

Australia

In Australia, Remembrance Day is always observed on 11 November regardless of the day of the week and is not a public holiday. Some institutions observe two minute's silence at 11 a.m. Through a programme named Read 2 Remember, children read the "Pledge of Remembrance" by Rupert McCall and teachers deliver specially developed resources to help children understand the significance of the day and the resilience of those who have fought for their country, and call on children to also be resilient when facing difficult times. Services are held at 11 a.m. at war memorials and schools in suburbs and cities across the country, at which the "Last Post" is sounded by a bugler and a one-minute silence is observed. In recent decades, however, Remembrance Day has been largely eclipsed as the national day of war commemoration by ANZAC Day (25 April), which is a public holiday in all states. Remembrance Day is a time when people can pay their respects to the substantial number of soldiers who died in battle.

For The Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables at home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Laurence Binyon (1869–1943)

evi_mort's photostream

evi_mort's photostream on Flickr.