Barbara – That’s what they looked like to me, too. Just a bud of leaves and flowers bursting out of the trunk.
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Photo Memory of the Week
Music of the Week
Poetry of the Week
The Gift to Sing
Sometimes the mist overhangs my path, And blackening clouds about me cling; But, oh, I have a magic way To turn the gloom to cheerful day— I softly sing. . . .
These flowers look like they’re growing out of the trees.
Barbara – That’s what they looked like to me, too. Just a bud of leaves and flowers bursting out of the trunk.