![]() ![]() After an obligatory stop over at LA (I'd promised to stay out of the USA until their Immigration Service treated us as friends rather than suspected terrorists), we fly to Raritonga and Aiutaki in the Cook Islands, then to Nadi in Fiji which we use as a base for triangular flights to Nuku'alofa in Tonga and onwards to Apia in Samoa, where we stay at Aggie Grey's hotel, (shades of James Mitchener). The author is Robert Louis Stevenson, and we're off to pay my respects. People often ask how I developed my Wanderlust, and I tell them of two inspirational teachers and an author, all of whom I hold responsible. I entitle them "Traveller or Tourist?" and try to add humour by recounting the funny incidents which we seem to encounter on many of our journeys. Recently I've been asked by various groups to talk to them about our travels. The following poem was suggested by Ken Norris of England. While you were falling we knew: from the dead you would rise!" Start swimming, swan, flower long-necked, a playful wave escort you to its source. That man perishes, stone resurrects, and a heart beats in stone. Since Neretva flowed in ancient times, it has never been known This July day should be your holiday, starry balm on your wound. Neretva, river of green eyes, open them wide, stop! The original Turkish bridge, built in 1566, was destroyed by Croat shelling in November 1993. Written by the Croatian poet, Vesna Parun, and translated and sent to us by Verica Peacock, this poem was published by a Croatian newspaper to celebrate the July 2004 re-opening of the bridge over the River Neretva in Mostar, Bosnia-Hercegovina. The road is so rocky, the world is so wide, I'll walk you past panthers asleep in the sand, ![]() We'll live like the mud lark deep down in a dream, Where buttercups shoot through the roof of the snow. The ducks on the millpond that swim in the mind. Margaret recalls a favourite song from her student days in 1968 – words and music by American poet and singer Rod McKuen. Lord Byron, 4th Canto of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage.īarry takes the opportunity to quote in full the Robert Frost poem which otherwise is commonly reduced to its last three lines. I love not man the less, but Nature more.” ![]() “There is pleasure in the pathless woods, We remember the prominent statue of Byron in the Garden of Heroes in Messolonghi, Northern Greece, where the poet died of fever in 1824 while fighting in the Greek War of Independence. Be Blessed and Shine for Him, my sister in Christ.Margaret finds Byron's 'Pleasure in the Pathless Woods' appropriate for the isolation of 2020, the year of Covid. She was blessed with a powerful testimony: Miracles Do Happen. If you have an opportunity, there is a beautiful young mother, Kara, who needed a double lung transplant she journaled this in her blog (Kara the Caterpilla). It is my life verse as i pray for healing for those who need a Miracle. i pray that you found some encouragement for you & your husband in the verses from Habakkuk. We are blessed with the gift of a “photographic memory” so one word at time is manageable (at least i was until a couple years ago/ now i have trouble accessing the memory file i put that picture in … :). Have a grandson that has this, new definition “convergence insufficient” alas, the therapy with a special optomologist is extremely expensive. i try proofing several times but if “i see it”, i see it and so don’t always catch my mistakes. My challenge is a form of dyslexia where my brain “sees” what is written differently. i don’t text (can’t afford the service) but i have joined the “twitters” because i needed to find others interested in elderly abuse and it was the fastest way i could gather info. Having 3 children in their 30’s, i’ve experienced 1st hand the changes in “schooling” especially spelling and vocabulary(knowing the meaning of words). Hi, Julia, the “texting” and “twitting” also a concern of mine. ![]()
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