Thursday Theme Song...makes me happy

Sunshine on my shoulders
makes me happy

Posted for
Hootin' Anni's
musical meme


Thursday
Theme
Song




Thanks, Anni!
Thursday Theme Song
almost always
makes me happy,
unless I miss it.

Sunshine in my eyes
can make me cry

I spent most of my adult life living and working in or near Vancouver, British Columbia.
 
 
Residents of that beautiful and vibrant city have access to concerts by many of the world's greats.
 
One such singer was John Denver, who died much too young, and I am grateful I was given the opportunity to see him perform.
 
My friend Judith had tickets for the press box, and we had to walk across a high catwalk to reach it. I was terrified, and almost didn't get there, believe me. But I'm very glad I did.
 
 
This is one of the songs John Denver sang that night, modified only slightly for Thursday Theme Song.

Sunshine on the prairie looks so lovely

Sunshine almost always makes me sigh.

Photos by Richard Schear, southeastern Alberta, June 17, 2012

For Real Toads: Ella's questions

Yesterday Ella, from the writers' group Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, posed a series of questions as a challenge to members and contributors.
Yesterday I was most unwell, so unwell I even had to cancel a trip to British Columbia to visit old friends.
I read Ella's questions but couldn't write more than a single line. I even forgot it was Leap Day, that very special day for toads!
Then, this morning, after a very funny bit in a book made me laugh, I felt a creative spark come to life despite the fog of pain and coughing. It ain't art, folks, but this is my response to Ella's questions (which are shown below). Please pardon the amateur rhymes and general lack of originality, often the effect of illness on creativity, but really no excuse.

my morning's white with hints of blue

and prairie sun is poking through,

creating shadows on the snow,

small birds—with farther north to go—

are resting, eating, tweeting here,

their sweet noise music to my ear.

deer left footprints ’neath my tree:

they came too late for me to see,

but prints leave records where they meet,

the now-fermented fruit to eat,

and though they stagger very slightly

I know they’ll return here nightly.

Here are the questions Ella posed yesterday, from which we could choose any or all to answer:
What color is your morning?
What are the shapes of your day?
What are the smells of your evening?
What are the textures of your favorite piece of clothing?
What are the sounds you hear right now?
What nourishes you?
What do you see when you open your eyes and really look?