The days grow shorter as the year rolls on towards its end. Too soon it seems the light grows fainter and the nights descend... Brief the journey of the Sun. December days are drear. But they bring us to the morning of another year.
And at this point upon the road the heart is strangely stirred --- for far away we hear the music of an April bird... With brighter hope and lighter step we tread the wintry hills --- having caught upon the wind the breath of daffodils.
~ Patience Strong ~
~ Little sled painted by Mom/Marj
~ Little sled painted by Mom/Marj
Lovely.
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