The Seasons: A Poem

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Sunrise over Amazing Grasses Family Farm The mad Artist wields His brush, Painted colors rush, To life and give flush, Before the quiet autumn hush. The life seems to pour, As colors fall to the floor, To be seen no more, Outside the dark, grey door. Brightness from below, Sun upon the snow, High, cold clouds blow, Flakes and ice appear to grow. The man melts with little seen, Underneath, pale, grey green, Hides life in dark unseen, Waits for warmth and to careen. Buds on branches show, Patience starts to grow, Trickles, streams and veins flow, Bringing fruits of melted snow. Sprung to life it springs, Bees, birds, sound rings, Lush green flings, Its gift bounty brings. Green growth gives one last rush, Underneath the Painter's brush. The mad Artist wields His brush, before the quiet autumn hush. More poetry is available from James M. Hahn in  The Last Dragon and Other Poems  available now. My new book of cryptogram puzzles " Secret Messages from the Saints " is avai
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Chronicles of Narnia

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We have been reading the Chronicles of Narnia to the boys before bed. We're both amazed that they are sticking with it and want it to be read. In fact, it is seen as a terrible punishment for it not to be read. I think Christopher (4) likes to have anything read. Anthony (5) on the other hand is really in to and grasps much of the story. We're currently reading Prince Caspian. Friday I decided to help them with putting all their toys to a creative use. So we re-create battles and they play different roles. They haven't played anything else since. Here are two pictures of the battle castles on opposite sides of the room along with some of the warriors.

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