What Would You Be?

I just adore these types of "surveys". They're fun and whimsical ~ a pleasure to read and answer as well. I borrowed this from Carolee at King of Mice Studios. Please feel free to cut and paste to your own blog.(Adding your own answers of course).

What Would You Be?

If I were a month I’d be April.
If I were a day I’d be Saturday.
If I were a time of day I’d be dusk.
If I were a planet I’d be Earth.

If I were a sea animal I’d be dead, because I can't swim.
If I were a direction I’d be South.
If I were a piece of furniture I’d be a fluffy bed draped in lace.
If I were a liquid I’d be Merlot or creek water.

If I were a gem stone I’d be a Gold Pearl.
If I were a tree I’d be a Japanese Plum.

If I were a tool I’d be a Scroll Saw.
If I were a flower I’d be a Sweet Pea.

If I were an element of weather I’d be wind.
If I were a musical instrument I’d be a fiddle.
If I were a color I'd be the color of a bruised sky.

If I were an emotion I’d be passion.

If I were a fruit I’d be a Pomegranate.
If I were a sound I’d be thunder.
If I were an element I'd be air.

If I were a car I’d be a purple Challenger.

If I were a food I’d be cheddar cheese.
If I were a place I’d be a garden in Northwest Arkansas.
If I were a material I'd be cotton.

If I were a taste I’d be salty.

If I were a scent I’d be damp leaves in the Summer.

If I were a body part I’d be the back of a neck.
If I were a facial expression I'd be curiosity.
If I were a song I’d be "I'll Fly Away."

If I were a bird I'd be a Bluebird.

If I were a gift I'd be love.
If I were a street I'd be unpaved.

If I were a city I'd be New Orleans.
If I were a door I'd have a peep hole.

If I were a pair of shoes I’d be under the bed.

And what would you be?

Until Next Time:
Kim
Gerushia's New World

A Little Piece of Heaven...

Oh these days of sleeping late and early afternoon coffee....



Vacations that take me nowhere out of the ordinary....



Look closely at the goodness of my Every Day ~

Colors....



Art....



Morning Walks that allow me to spy a pair of runaway Love Birds....
(I pray they find their way home)



Clouds bubbling overhead with the threat of delicious rain only hours away...



My world ~ a world where work is play...



An aimless and unplanned drive through the small town that surrounds me ~

A town of whimsy....





A place where an old horse can retire after a long and respectable life...



A city that welcomes the chalky brilliance of sidewalk art...





In my yard, my garden, my dream, I can smell soil and leaves and lavender...



My heart appreciates memories ~

A treasured bunny lamp, now sits proudly in my garden wearing her fresh, warm coat of moss...



A sleeping pig who's only job is to make me smile...



My garden companions take a walk-about with me, scuffling all the way ~ so jealous of each other...



These things are life and air and home. The goodness of my Every Day. Little Pieces of Heaven.

Until Next Time:
Kim
Gerushia's New World

R.I.P. foREVer

Drama Queen

What a lovely couple of weeks I've had. I'm on a bit of a "vacation". But...all that really means is that my Musty Boxes Ephemera shop is closed for a period of time. My photo shop keeps me ever so busy, listing, packaging and driving to the post office. It was time to take a break and focus on other goodness.

Recently, while on my wee vacation, Gary and I rummaged through some of our old boxes in the garage. I came across one of my very old (and embarrassing) journals from high school...



I always carried around a notebook/journal...always ready to doodle or write down a few lines of poetry. This particular journal was created when I was 16.

Oh, it's been fun looking back through my old writings. But, I must admit, I've cringed more than a few times. Why oh why was I so dramatic and exaggerated? I reckon as a 16 year old girl, everything is intense and jagged.

While thumbing through this journal, I did find a few pieces that I actually like. Would you like to read them? They're short and it won't take long...

A subject hung free, Not to shatter.
The mind may push, The stale clatter.
Cling on wire, The corner stool.
Kick over the shadow, Wipe up the drool.
Stand on your head, Break through the floor.
Turn-out the hip, Clean out the core.© ~1981~


Unwanted spaces, Wild-eyed traces, He paces.
Mock speech, Aching to teach, A flexible reach.
Dead-ends and gentleness,
Streaming fullness pushes tragedy.© ~1981~


Our pure gradual glances, formed through traveling hysterics.
Kneeling interests and dull eagerness turn,
when there are no abiding disguises.
Sweet silent walls of my dancing destruction, show me more of your new hope.© ~1981~


Resting overgrown terrors become spies
of their own rushed vacancies.
First entrance of the aged, unfaded vastness.
The turbulant and mocked gaze,
The misplaced maze.
Our fond, soft building
of fables and frenzies.© ~1980~

So....there you are. A bit of a peek inside my head as a 16 year old girl.

Until Next Time:
Kim
Gerushia's New World