I’m on your side when times get rough and friends just can’t be found.

See comments for details on photography.

When you’re weary, feeling small,
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all;
I’m on your side. when times get rough
And friends just can’t be found,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

When you’re down and out,
When you’re on the street,
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you.
I’ll take your part.
When darkness comes
And pains is all around,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

Sail on silvergirl,
Sail on by.
Your time has come to shine.
All your dreams are on their way.
See how they shine.
If you need a friend
I’m sailing right behind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.

by: Paul Simon

A Happy Child. My Happy Child.

A Happy Child

I saw this day sweet flowers grow thick –
But not one like the child did pick.

I heard the packhounds in green park –
But no dog like the child heard bark.

I heard this day bird after bird –
But not one like the child has heard.

A hundred butterflies saw I –
But not one like the child saw fly.

I saw the horses roll in grass –
But no horse like the child saw pass.

My world this day has lovely been –
But not like what the child has seen.

by: W.H. Davies

See comments for details on photography.

A man (er, little boy) on a tractor.

The dog walked just like it was smiling,
the man drove like the world was all right.
The tractor hummed on like a part of a song
that you sing to your children at night.

His work was laid out there before him
in rows of green, his whole life was revealed.
Oh what I wouldn’t give if I could just live
like a man on a tractor with a dog in a field.

Let me do what I’m doing,
let me be where I am,
let me find peace of mind
on my own piece of land.

When I’m lost, help me to let go
and find some way to feel
like a man on a tractor with a dog in a field.

by: Rodney Atkins

See comments for details on photography.

Little deuce Coupe

Little deuce Coupe by: The Beach Boys

Well I’m not bragging’ babe so don’t put me down
But I’ve got the fastest set of wheels in town
When something comes up to me he don’t even try
Cause if it had a set of wings man I know she could fly
She’s my little deuce coupe
You don’t know what I got
My little deuce coupe
You don’t know what I got

Just a little deuce coupe with a flat head mill
But she’ll walk a Thunderbird like it’s standin’ still
She’s ported and relieved and she’s stroked and bored.
She’ll do a hundred and forty in the top end floored
She’s my little deuce coupe
You don’t know what I got
My little deuce coupe
You don’t know what I got

She’s got a competition clutch with the four on the floor
And she purrs like a kitten till the Lake Pipes roar
And if that aint enough to make you flip your lid
There’s one more thing, I got the pink slip, Daddy

And comin’ off the line when the light turns green
Well she blows ‘em outta the water like you never seen
I get pushed out of shape and it’s hard to steer
When I get rubber in all four gears

She’s my little deuce coupe
You don’t know what I got
My little deuce coupe
You don’t know what I got
She’s my little deuce coupe
You don’t know what I got
My little deuce coupe
You don’t know what I got
She’s my little deuce coupe
You don’t know what I got

Let Evening Come

Let Evening Come
by: Jane Kenyon

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.

(pictures taken in my backyard, at about 7:30 in the evening, one night last week)

Daisy Summer Piper

Daisy Summer Piper by: Joni Mitchell

Come and take me by the hand
There’s so much to be seen
The fields are dancing daisy bright
Hills are dappled green

Winter wind has ceased her labor
Giving birth to blossom rain as sweet as rain
And maybe you will fall in love
And maybe you’ll be mine

Daisy summer pipers come to town
Piping people out of doors
To see the magic all around
Listen now you’ll hear his sound

Stare into a mirror pool
And laugh so princely vain
The skies become kaleidoscopes
With no two turns the same

And pebbles send them dancing off
In ripple rings of sun burnt cloud and windy blues
And maybe we will fall in love
Before the day is through

Daisy summer pipers come to town
Piping people out of doors
To see the magic all around
Listen now you’ll hear his sound

Photography by: The Neighbor

Mine are not green, but if yours are, use them anyway.

Would you nurse him in the park?
Would you nurse him in the dark?
Would you nurse him with a Boppy?
And, when your boobs are feeling floppy?

I would nurse him in the park,
I would nurse him in the dark.
I’d nurse with, or without, a Boppy.
Floppy boobs will never stop me.

Can you nurse with your seat belt on?
Can you nurse from dusk till dawn?
Though he may pinch me, bite me, pull,
I will nurse him `till he’s full!

Can you nurse and make some soup?
Can you nurse and feed the group?
It makes him healthy, strong, and smart,
Mommy’s milk is the best start!

Would you nurse him at the game?
Would you nurse him in the rain?
In front of those who dare complain?
I would nurse him at the game.
I would nurse him in the rain.

As for those who protest lactation,
I have the perfect explanation.
Mommy’s milk is tailor made
It’s the perfect food, you need no aid.

Some may scoff and some may wriggle,
Avert their eyes or even giggle.
To those who can be cruel and rude,
Remind them breast’s the perfect food!

I would never scoff or giggle,
Roll my eyes or even wiggle!
I would not be so crass or crude,
I KNOW this milk’s the perfect food!

We make the amount we need
The perfect temp for every feed.
There’s no compare to milk from breast-
The perfect food, above the rest.

Those sweet nursing smiles are oh, so sweet,
Mommy’s milk is such a treat.
Human milk just can’t be beat.

I will nurse, in any case,
On the street or in your face.
I will not let my baby cry,
I’ll meet his needs, I’ll always try.
It’s not about what’s good for you,
It’s best for babies, through and through.

I will nurse him in my home,
I will nurse him when I roam.
Leave me be lads and ma’am.
I will nurse him, Mom I am.

Originally posted on gwendomama.com

Thanks for letting me use it!

I’m just mad about Saffron.

Saffron’s mad about me
I’m just mad about Saffron
He’s just mad about me

They call me mellow yellow
They call me mellow yellow
They call me mellow yellow

So mellow, he’s so yellow, Quite rightly.

Today’s post brought to you by Donovan, and probably copious amounts of narcotics he was smoking.

A poem for the snow day.

Variations on a Theme by William Carlos Williams
1
I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next summer.
I am sorry, but it was morning, and I had nothing to do and its wooden
beams were so inviting.
2
We laughed at the hollyhocks together
and then I sprayed them with lye.
Forgive me. I simply do not know what I am doing.
3
I gave away the money that you had been saving to live on for the next ten years.
The man who asked for it was shabby
and the firm March wind on the porch was so juicy and cold.
4
Last evening we went dancing and I broke your leg.
Forgive me. I was clumsy, and
I wanted you here in the wards, where I am the doctor.

TheHuckabugh-ugh-ugh

Aches: Head, ears, back and neck

Coughing, sneezing, sniffling wreck.

Groaning, Mouth breathing, is Darth Vader in the room?

The Den a dark, Elmo filled tomb.

We all succumb one by one,

A green eleven on The Son,

Ears like cotton for The Husband too,

More sleep, more naps, never enough for Hey You.

Liquid decongestant and pain pills,

The old blue quilt for the chills.

Kleenex and Halls stay on the job,

On the couch, three puffy blobs.

The humidifier’s vapors try to sooth,

My hands on his sheets try to smooth.

Live on hot tea and soup in bread bowls,

Does being sick together bond our souls?

Have I mentioned we have been sick here at The Huckablog household? Even The Dog has a cold. We have turned a corner, finally.