Weaving a Wreath of Memory: Pink Noodle Broccoli, Please.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Pink Noodle Broccoli, Please.

The amount of garlic in this broccoli is unheard of and oh so tasty. Thank you, Pink Noodle House.

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Birdsong

He doesn’t know the world at all
Who stays in his nest and doesn’t go out.
He doesn’t know what birds know best
Nor what I want to sing about,
That the world is full of loveliness.
When dewdrops sparkle in the grass
And earth’s aflood with morning light,
A blackbird sings upon a bush
to greet the dawning after night.
Then I know how fine it is to live.
Hey, try to open up your heart
To beauty; go to the woods someday
And weave a wreath of memory there.
Then if the tears obscure your way
You’ll know how wonderful it is
To be alive.

Ella Wollsteinerova, written while in Terezin, a children's concentration camp during WWII

Weaving a Wreath of Memory

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Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Pink Noodle Broccoli, Please.

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