A Pink Saturday Potpourri

When I heard Leonard Nimoy, the actor who portrayed Mr. Spock on the Star Trek series for three years passed away from COPD yesterday I felt sad. We are losing an entire generation of wonderful, talented people who entertained us for a long time. Not only was Nimoy an actor but he later directed, wrote, and photographed during his life time. I would say he lived a very full life. I quoted Star Wars on my Face Book page when I said "May the Force Be With You". We all know Spock used "Life long and prosper" and it was fitting in his true life as well as television life. But he was from the generation who watched Star Wars movies as well as the T.V.series Star Trek. RIP Mr. Spock, you entertained us well.

I took this sunset photo last night with my i phone while going home from  shopping last night. This poem written by Charlotte Bronte is perfect to pair with my photo. I hope you will visit Beverly and some pinkies today.

Winter Stories

Charlotte Brontë (published under her nom de plume, Currer Bell, 1846)

We take from life one little share, And say that this shall be A space, redeemed from toil and care, From tears and sadness free. And, haply, Death unstrings his bow, And Sorrow stands apart, And, for a little while, we know The sunshine of the heart. Existence seems a summer eve, Warm, soft, and full of peace, Our free, unfettered feelings give The soul its full release. A moment, then, it takes the power To call up thoughts that throw Around that charmed and hallowed hour, This life’s divinest glow. But Time, though viewlessly it flies, And slowly, will not stay; Alike, through clear and clouded skies, It cleaves its silent way. Alike the bitter cup of grief, Alike the draught of bliss, Its progress leaves but moment brief For baffled lips to kiss The sparkling draught is dried away, The hour of rest is gone, And urgent voices, round us, say, “'Ho, lingerer, hasten on!” And has the soul, then, only gained, From this brief time of ease, A moment’s rest, when overstrained, One hurried glimpse of peace? No; while the sun shone kindly o’er us, And flowers bloomed round our feet,— While many a bud of joy before us Unclosed its petals sweet,— An unseen work within was plying; Like honey-seeking bee, From flower to flower, unwearied, flying, Laboured one faculty,— Thoughtful for Winter’s future sorrow, Its gloom and scarcity; Prescient to-day, of want to-morrow, Toiled quiet Memory. ’Tis she that from each transient pleasure Extracts a lasting good; ’Tis she that finds, in summer, treasure To serve for winter’s food. And when Youth’s summer day is vanished, And Age brings Winter’s stress, Her stores, with hoarded sweets replenished, Life’s evening hours will bless.