Merci beaucoup and a honk to M. Pierre, who knows just what I like.
Prayer for Peace
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, harmony; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that I may seek not so much to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.
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End of the road, pardners
Hope you enjoyed the ride
Y'all come back and ride again
2 comments:
Sweet
Now tell me... I'm a Nebraska farm boy, raised by my Grandparents on an honest-to-the-gods working farm - cattle, corn, and alfalfa, including my Gram's version of 10 acres of gardens, orchards, and free-roaming chickens... but here's my point - I filled and emptied haylofts, and cleaned out barns and chicken coops from the time I was big enough to "help" Grampa until they retired from farming when I was 20... and NOT ONCE did I find something this pretty in the hay!!! Where the hell was it!? ... oh, yeah. Trust me when I say that, after 16 years of cleaning the coop, the only good chicken is a dead chicken - fried in a cast iron skillet with just a touch of beer-n-cornflour breading, and on my plate. I'll take dark meat, thank you...
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