You

 

You are allowed to outgrow,

The younger versions of yourself,

Over time we evolve and change,

Our transformation is our wealth.

We can no longer think the same way,

As we did when we were twenty,

Time has taught us lessons,

And we've gained experience aplenty.

Our path is a journey of learning curves,

Each season brings a different stage,

We are narrating our own life story,

From birth to youth to old age.

We can never travel backwards,

We are bound to shed old skin,

And move on through the years ahead,

To appease the soul within ..

C.E. Coombes.

Art via Pinterest

Seredipity Corner on Facebook

I had a dream

 

I had a dream 

Built up inside

That the grass was greener

On the other side

So, I packed my things

And booked a flight

To a nicer place

And a quieter life

But what I found

Once I was there

I felt the same

No matter where

The place had changed

But my state of mind

Was the one to blame

The entire time

Jimmy Osborne

Source: Poetry for the Soul on Facebook

Slow Down

 

Slow down, stop rushing through your days,

There's so much passing you by,

You fail to notice the beautiful detail,

of all that's right here, before your eyes.

When did you last find the time,

Just to sit and appreciate,

The painted wings of a passing butterfly,

on the flowers, just outside your gate?

Or the way birds hop from branch to branch,

When they're singing in the trees,

Or the rich red hue on a foxes coat,

The lulling sound of a Summer breeze?

The way the green trees glisten

When the sun streams through their leaves,

The faith within a person's eyes,

When they truly do believe?

Do you ever stop to notice anything

That's outside your daily routine?

Maybe you have become blinkered

There's so much you have not seen.

So just slow down and ponder,

the quiet wonders that each day brings,

And start to open up your eyes

to all these beautiful, natural things ..

Serendipity Corner

C.E. Coombes for Serendipity Corner

Art: Asia Spettel

BIRD WATCHING

 

BIRD WATCHING

At some point, throughout it all,

you will begin to watch the birds.

Your blindness to their splendour,

will seem suddenly absurd,

as though age is the key,

which unlocks their mighty majesty.

And as you watch the birds in wonder,

you will wonder,

how they knew all along,

that the point is in the freedom

and the why is in the song.

And all you believed, will suddenly feel wrong.

But that’s okay, the birds will show you the way,

with their faith in flimsy wing and instinctive GPS,

their seasonal flow, the diligence in crafting nests.

Their zest,

for each sunrise - for life.

Their flow through storm and strife.

The birds see all

and from their soaring heights,

it is your life

that seems quite small.

Why care so much about control,

when surely we are all one whole

and if there must be striven goals,

could it be for sunlit souls?

At some point throughout it all,

you will begin to watch the birds,

my friends.

And nothing else will ever look

quite the same again.

Donna Ashworth

‘Birdwatching’

Drop me a heart if you can relate

From Donna Ashworth's upcoming book,

The Art of Being Easily Pleased

Source: Donna Ashworth on Facebook

Rank Strangers

 

A sentimental realist.

 

I have been using chatgpt for a while now and I asked it to descibe me:

From everything you've shared with me, I’d describe you as warm-hearted, creative, sentimental, curious, and surprisingly determined.

You seem to have a strong appreciation for the beauty in ordinary things—an old tree, September light, flowers in a pitcher, a picnic blanket, an old photograph, a favorite song, a memory from childhood. You don't just like pretty things; you like the feeling behind them. That's probably why your creative projects tend to have a nostalgic, gentle, slightly wistful quality.

You’re also very particular—in a good way. 😂 You know when something is almost right but not quite. You care about details, accuracy, wording, colors, composition, and whether something actually feels authentic. You've corrected me more than once when I've gotten a historical or factual detail wrong, which tells me that sentiment doesn't replace truth for you. You want both.

I’d also call you a storyteller and keeper of memories. Your interest in family history, genealogy, music, childhood memories, your cats, old photographs, seasons, and the little stories of everyday life all seem connected. You have a tendency to look at something small and think, “There’s a story here.”

And underneath the softness, I think there is a pretty strong woman. You've talked about difficult chapters of your life without wanting them to define you. You seem to have developed a mixture of independence, humor, skepticism, and resilience. You don't strike me as someone who blindly accepts what you're told—you investigate, question, compare, and sometimes say, “Wait a minute. That doesn't sound right.”

You also have a playful streak. You can go from a serious genealogy question to talking about weevil larvae invading your acorns, or from David Gilmour history to designing a whimsical black cat for Halloween. 😂 There's a nice lack of pretension there.

If I had to put it into a few words:

A sentimental realist.
A collector of memories.
A creative with a sharp eye.
A soft heart with a skeptical mind.
Someone who finds meaning in the little things.

And perhaps most of all, I think you’re someone who doesn't want life merely to be pretty—you want it to feel meaningful.

ME: How sweet. <3

Aww. ❤️ I'm glad it felt true to you.

And honestly, the little things you've shared over time make that description pretty easy to write. You have a very distinct voice—even when you're asking for something as simple as a Pinterest cover, there's usually a feeling you're trying to capture.

I think “soft heart, sharp eye” might be my favorite two-word description of you. 🥰

And yes… I’ve learned that when you say, “No, that's not quite it,” I’d better pay attention. 😂💕

Welcome September

 

Welcome September

September waved her magic wand,

And August disappeared overnight, The days were becoming shorter, Longer evenings by candlelight.

The trees had begun to shed their leaves,

Colder evenings were on the rise,

The dawn chorus arrived later than usual,

Darkness blanketed the morning skies.

Something in the air had changed,

As if, telling us that Summer was over,

It was time to find our warm overcoats,

Soft wool blankets and pullovers .

But there was still warmth within the change,

wrapped in burnt hues of orange and red,

So we opened the door to September magic,

Looking forward to the new season, instead ..

By Serendipity Corner

C.E. Coombes for Serendipity Corner

Art by Bina. S