Tasmanian shelves

Hi everyone and I hope I find you all well and rested after the weekend.

Why Tasmanian shelves, I hear you ask, it is a tribute to a fellow blogger Jo, in Tasmania whose weekly blogs inspire me, I look forward to opening her blog on a Monday morning and reading about her thrifty life.  Last November she had some shelves built in her office which did not come up to expectations or design, and she has finally made these acceptable as well as reclaiming and old set of shelves and the items on it are an art form in themselves.  Thanks Jo, for the inspiration, and the joy of reading your blog.

We had a wonderful weekend in Plymouth with our gorgeous granddaughter, walks on Plymouth Hoe and on Roborough Down (the gateway to Dartmoor), lots of fun and laughter and an ample sufficiency of cuddles to bottle and bring home to keep us going until next we see them all.  The highlight of her weekend was getting her grandfather to draw around her hands and feet, repeatedly, no-one could do it quite as well as he could.  Thank you for a wonderful weekend, and thanks to our son for looking after Wiffles the cat for us.  I am blessed with a truly wonderful family.

Today dawns wet with some much needed rain, but is clearing for a nice week, I am planning what to do with the garden, and when I can start on my granddaughters dresses, material having been checked and thoroughly approved of this weekend. So a full week ahead of me, but I want to try and spend a fair bit of time searching through my ever expanding poetry collection for more inspiration and coupled with Classical music seeping softly and reverentially from my sound system and into my pores I feel calm, rested and ready to absorb all that I can.

So I leave you with Jo's shelves, and a lovely thoughtful and provocative poem by Krishnakumar Chandrasekar Nair, thank you as always for joining me and have a wonderful week wherever in the world you are, speak to you next week.  Daisychain xx

Pictures, courtesy of http://alltheblueday.blogspot.co.uk/

Those dusty bookshelves of childhood by krishnakumar chandrasekar nair

Oh, give me those dusty bookshelves of the past

Where books held raptures that would last

A dry crushed flower or perhaps a frayed leaf

A worm eaten love story with an ending so neat

And all those fancy tales of faeries so good

Who lost their wands and cried in the woods

And of goblins who stole tulips and roses

All from the valley of love and happiness

And when the moon rose at the midnight hour

I would turn in my sleep and suddenly smile

Lost in a place of spells and charming power

And my cat settles softly between my legs and curl.....