Spring is beginning to appear in lovely shades of yellow, pink, purple, white, red, green and a blend of many other shades — all spread out nicely under rays of gold and skies of blue. The tiny, blue flowers are up, a nice surprise of spring. Where have they been all winter? Lying dormant, deep under ground? 
Many worthwhile stories are being written and I am writing none of them.
© Freeda Baker Nichols
RED DAYLILIES
The house is empty now
and no one tends
the flowers, growing still
along the walk where once
I strolled with Mama.
My hand in hers, she walked
with me and talked about
the blue hydrangeas,
Phlox of pink,
daylilies red, and
golden black-eyed Susans,
dazzling at their peak
of color
in the sun.
I walk along the
silent footpath now,
where only shadows move.
I miss Mama.
© Freeda Baker Nichols
once drawn by horses
half-hidden by yellow blooms
an old hay mower
© Freeda Baker Nichols
a spider–
a magic surprise
clothed in red
© 2016 Freeda Baker Nichols
rain refreshes
wilted hibiscus
in August
© Freeda Baker Nichols
How lavender is my garden
on any August day.
How hot the sun keeps burning
before it slips away.
© Freeda Baker Nichols
no petunias
Cougar the cat’s daybed
this summer
When I’m away even for a day trip, it’s always great to return. Often on my way up the drive, I say, “Be it ever so humble, there is no place like home!”
What is it about “home” that makes it a place so dear to the heart?
The road back home is sometimes too long and difficult to travel.
Home is someone drawing water from the well.
Home is a place to be at Christmas. It’s a visit from the grandkids.
It’s a nostalgic place, a place for memories. A place for love.
No matter how far away your travels take you, there is no place as wonderful as home.
Home is being together, being happy, being free.
Home is the ending of the day, being thankful. Being grateful to God for all His many blessings.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/theres-no-place-like-home/
Beauty is many things. It is the sun rising above the timberline to give its light to a dark and waiting world. It is the sound of a loved one’s voice when an eternity has elapsed since you last heard the familiar echoes in your heart. It is the violet beside the road, the Sweet Williams, the rose petals and budding oaks in spring. It is the voice of a friend when you need someone who understands. There is a secret– the beholder of beauty must open not only his eyes but his heart if he is to see the total realm of beauty. Like the ivy across a trellis, beauty and love intertwine, the one depends upon the other. Together they stand out in all their splendor.
A Special Joy
I felt joy when I looked at my firstborn son,
who arrived during a deep Kansas snow.
I called him “Little Precious”
when a nurse brought him to me. He was
my first and three other children came after him,
each bringing its own beaming joy to my young
heart; their first smiles were reasons to be glad;
their first blowing of spit bubbles from tiny
puckered lips made me laugh; they could sound
like cars or airplane engines accelerating for missions
like those that took their daddy halfway around the
world from us. I felt joy when he returned safely to us;
happiness beyond explanation when he winked his
way back into the graces of the wee ones who had
forgotten him in those long months.
Love is joy and joy is love.
God is love and He is in all the joy I have known,
causing my heart to refresh because of past joyful times.
Complete joy comes from weaving threads of laughter
onto a background of love-patched fabric in such a way
that only the brightest colors show.
© Freeda Baker Nichols
Freeda Baker Nichols 