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So She Reads Collection: September Somethings
There’s a purple tint on the woodland leaves And the wind’s are up all day,There’s a rustling heard in the yellow sheavesAnd it seems to sadly say,Sweet summer, sweet summer, sweet summer’s gone away.–S. C. Hanson, page 26 in The Expanded Practical Musical Reader WELCOME to our monthly collection, our online commonplace book. Here you
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A Muffin Is Right For Any Occasion
Muffins are versatile multi- taskers in the menu rotation. Here’s a quick listing of reasons I love muffins. Muffins I’ve made over and over: Simply Zucchini Muffins Honey Wheat Muffins Boys’ Favorite Blueberry Crumble Muffins 1 1/2 freshly ground whole wheat flour3/4 cup brown sugar1/2 tsp salt2 tsp baking powder1/3 cup vegetable oil1/3 cup vanilla
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How You Can Read Classics
After reading several books lately that didn’t offer much, I was disillusioned. After abandoning books half way through, I was afraid I’d have nothing to review here. To fix this, I made a goal to read better books. I decided to start by reading twenty pages and stopping to consider if I want to continue.
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The Power of School Songs: Why Children Benefit From Folk Music
Every September, that’s the same old bell a-ringing in the little red schoolhouse. I hear a discordant note when grade school children sing songs about redemption or wasted years or being lost. There is an inharmonious feeling between what I hear and what I see. Innocent children but words for adults. Childish voices with the
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So She Reads Collection: Goodbye to Summer
WELCOME to our monthly collection. This space is our online equivalent of a commonplace book. Here is where we offer links and ideas for you to explore, and things we might want to revisit or remember. Brew yourself a cup of tea and savor a quiet moment while you read. Be inspired to live with
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Of Memories Most Tender
The ash grove how graceful, how plainly ’tis speaking, The harp through it playing has language for me. When over it’s branches the sunlight is breakingA host of kind faces is gazing at me. The friends of my childhood again are before meEach step wakes a memory as freely I roam. With soft whispers laden
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