Heartwings Love Notes 2055 Probably Fraud

Posted on July 27, 2025 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “Telephones have evolved, but they do still do the same thing.”

Cell phones have grown to be the norm, these days, rather than the exception. Over the past twenty or so years they have grown in use until now they are ubiquitous. I remember years ago thinking a man jabbering away as he walked down the sidewalk, was talking aloud to himself—and of course he was using one of those phones with a microphone near his mouth. Many people walk along looking at their cell phones, ignoring the world around them. I was once involved in an accident with a woman who was looking at hers while she was driving.

Like all those in my age category, I grew up with a single home telephone. As in most homes, the phone sat on a table, in the hall or somewhere central. Often it was in a kind of booth, a small room with a door beneath the stairs to a second floor. Wherever it was located, it wasn’t detachable nor did it do more than receive and transmit calls. In those days, our family telephone number had only three digits; the one my great aunt was assigned had two. Perhaps she got it back when the phone first went into use. I never thought to ask.

Then, when you picked up the handset, a voice—usually that of a woman, said, “Number please.” You could have a discussion with the operator, or even get advice. If you needed a number, you said, “Information, please.” There was no dial tone, or even a dial, for that matter. Nor did anyone get a spam call. Actually, spam hadn’t been created yet. That was a product of WWII. Long distance, meaning outside the local area was charged by the minute, and could be very expensive.

Many people have given up their land lines in favor of exclusive cell phone use. I’ve resisted this for several reasons. Though we do have cell phones, we still have a land line, of course the phone itself is mobile. I prefer land line reliability over the capriciousness of a cell phone.as well as the comfort of the handset. Aside from how much more comfortable the handset is to hold, it doesn’t heat up over time, as a cell phone does. Of course, this also means we get lots of spam calls. At our request to a helpful number, some spam calls we receive, though not all, are blocked. This results in our getting only a single ring, then silence.

There is another aspect to the land line that keeps me using it: a kind of of entertainment in the voice that delivers its message when it rings: most of our land line telephone calls are identified by a robot, a mechanical voice that calls out their source. The mispronunciations are almost always amusing. They also convey information. We have discovered that spam is easily identified by the MA ending, mispronounced ma or as whatever the state is. Best of all is the one that always makes me wonder how the phone knows, and it is certainly my favorite: “probably fraud.”

Heartwings Love Notes 2048: A Worthwhile Treasure Part Two

Posted on August 13, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “When something is outgrown, it must be left behind.”

I continued to go to church with both my mother and my father, until I went to college. At that point I went only when I was home and the rest of the time, I didn’t think much about religion or spirituality. I was busy growing in other ways, and then I met and married my first husband. We started a family, and soon with two little girls to care for, I forgot about my pursuit of spiritual matters.

Then my husband fell asleep at the wheel as he was driving home one night and nearly was killed in an accident. All of a sudden, I felt an urge to return to church. Yet I did not feel good about attending my mother’s church or practicing her religion. It simply did not suit me any longer. Like the clothing handed down from my mother’s friends’ children that I had worn as a child, it no longer fit. I looked for one but didn’t and then we moved back from Rhode Island and the army base where my husband was stationed. I found myself able to attend my father’s Episcopal church and did so, singing in the choir and eventually teaching Sunday School. I felt as though I had come home.

Beginning with The Hero with a Thousand Faces, I read Joseph Campbell’s wonderful books on mythology. They broadened my view of spirituality and I continued to search for books that would help me learn and grow. Someone gave me Brother Lawrence’s Practice of the presence of God. I was quite taken with the idea and decided to incorporate his practice of the Presence of God into my own life. I began by imagining that God was present for me where ever I was.

Brother Lawrence also introduced me to the idea that any kind of work could be a form of prayer. Until then I had associated prayer primarily with church, bedtime, and emergencies.

Over many years I have come to understand more about the practice of work as a form of worship as well as of spiritual growth. Here is a tale that says more about that. This Hindu legend tells of an advanced student of spiritual wisdom who was sent by his master to visit a renowned teacher on the other side of a forest. He grew weary, sat under a tree and fell asleep. The twittering of birds woke him. Angrily he raised his hands and sent a bolt of energy at them. They fell senseless to the ground. He continued to the hut of the teacher and knocked on the door. No one answered. He tried again. Someone was moving about inside. “Anyone there?” he called out impatiently and knocked a third time.

“Young man,” came a voice from within, “I am only an old woman who has lived all my life here in the forest. You have studied great books, and you are even strong enough to knock the birds from the tree, but you will have to be patient with me. I am getting to the door as fast as I can.” The young man caught his breath. How could she possibly know what he had done in the forest? Realizing how much he still had to learn, he bowed his head and sighed.

Over many years, my understanding of this practice changed. Now I feel it is always possible to be in the presence of God. If, as Brother Lawrence teaches, God is present everywhere in all people and things. How ever could I not be in that presence. Most think of prayer as a statement, in the form of a petition or perhaps a combination of praise and gratitude. For me prayer has become an underlying theme so that I frequently express my gratitude. Also, when a friend comes to mind, I bless him or her and send light to whatever situation he or she might be in.

May you find help on your path to light when and where you need it.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

To be Continued

A poet and writer, I publish a free weekly blog, Heartwings Love Notes for a Joyous Life. My Books: Up to my Neck in Lemons, and Heartwings, Love Notes for a Joyous Life are available on Amazon. My latest publication available there is my first chapbook, Poems and Prayers, and I have two more in preparation. You can sign up for my blog at http://tashasperspective.com.

Heartwings Love Notes 2047: A Treasure worth Seeking, Part One

Posted on August 4, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “A journey of discovery is fun to share, regardless the goal.”

The search for God by whatever definition has always been an important part of my life. Over time it has revolved around the various interpretations of that word. My parents, as well as Emily, my first caregiver and a practical nurse I spent a lot of time with, were all traditionally religious. By traditionally I mean they went to church on Sundays and followed the mainstream Christian beliefs. They were not dogmatic or “born again” Christians, although my mother had a rather grim view of God. She often said, “God will punish you if you… so I thought that might be something important to avoid.

I learned about the Divine at an early age. Told to say my simple “God bless” prayers, following, “Now I lay me down to sleep…” in my mind I prayed to a kind of big parent in the sky, for that was how I thought of God. At around five, I began attending church. My mother, a devout Catholic went every Sunday and took me with her. The benches we sat on were hard, the ones we knelt on were very hard, and the prayers were mostly in Latin. I preferred my dad’s Episcopalian church, where I got to sing hymns and there were cushions to kneel on. I was able to enjoy it when on special holidays like Christmas and Easter, my mother and I attended both churches, although I believe my mother was unsure it was alright with “her” God to do so.

Once I learned to read, I used to look for books to read on the family’s bookshelves. On a bottom shelf of an upstairs bookcase, I was drawn to an old Bible in the hall. I have a vivid memory of sitting on the floor under the skylight, reading the tissue thin pages and wondering at the images described in them. I found the pages fascinating; I was especially drawn to the colorful descriptions in Revelations. My father’s childhood book of Biblical parables, with steel engraved illustrations was another favorite of mine. The stories were so interesting, and the large pages held my interest.

When I was seven or eight, I created my own church, just for me, in an outer corner of a small, old, greenhouse shed between the wall and the chimney. I gathered moss to kneel on, made a brick for the alter and placed a cross made of twigs upon it. I drew stained glass windows on the wooden panels of the shed wall with chalk. On the other side I made a small Cemetary where I put the animals I found to bury-a cat that had died, some ducklings, and a bird or two. When I felt the need, I would go to my church, kneel on the moss, and take my troubles to God. Somehow it seemed natural to do so.

May you enjoy happy memories of your own personal history and share them when you wish.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS I welcome comments and hope you will email me with them.

Heartwings Love Notes 2045 An old fashioned Dessert

Posted on July 21, 2024 by pujakins

In the small town where I grew up, there were three food stores: a First National Store, resembling today’s supermarkets only much smaller, where you walked up and down the aisles, selecting your own groceries; and two other food stores–both of which sold liquor as well. These assembled your purchases for you and even delivered them to your house. You could even call in your order.

What I purchase on an average shopping trip today wouldn’t fit into my mother’s kitchen. It was small and utilitarian: a stove, a sink, and a refrigerator. She had a small pantry closet that held mixing bowls and a few cans. My mother shopped frequently and did not keep much food on hand. I don’t remember how old I was when we replaced the old icebox with a modern refrigerator, however I can remember the ice man clip-clopping down the street with the big chunks of ice in his wagon.

Except in the summer, fresh green vegetables were rare. A cellar closet held the glass jars of beans and other vegetables my mother had preserved, as well as jellies she made from summer fruit. Winter squash was stored to eat later on, as were potatoes. One of my tasks was occasionally to pick the sprouts off. We ate canned peas. Frozen food was not commonly available in the early forties.

One of my favorite recipes from my mother’s limited dessert menu (she didn’t believe in giving children many sweets) is Cottage Pudding. While it does not have the consistency of a pudding, it has acquired that name. A simple muffin type batter baked as a cake it is served with either strawberries or chocolate or lemon sauce. Try this when you are seeking some comfort food and see if it doesn’t do the trick.

Cottage Pudding and Sauces

Preheat oven at 400 degrees and grease an 8 inch square pan or six cupcake tins.

Ingredients: 1 1/2 cups flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 cup sugar

1 well beaten egg

1/2 cup milk

1/2 cup melted butter

1 Teaspoon Vanilla

Sift together flour, baking powder, sugar and salt. Mix egg, milk vanilla and melted butter. Stir gently into flour mixture–like for muffins, only enough to moisten ingredients. Do not beat. Pour into greased pan or muffin cups. Bake until browned and pulling away from pan. (20 to 25 minutes) Serve WARM with the sauce of your choice. This is not as good the next day unless you warm it up.

Choice Sauces

Strawberries and Cream (Avoid pesticide laden inorganic berries!)

Slice up strawberries, mix with a little sugar, let sit for half day or if the berries are large and tough, cook for about 15 minutes then cool and serve with whipped cream or topping.

Bittersweet Chocolate Sauce

Melt together 2 squares unsweetened chocolate, 1/4 cup butter. Add 1 cup sugar, stir well. Sprinkle in a few grains of salt and add 1/2 cup water. Cook and stir until sauce is as thick as you like. Cool slightly and add 1 teaspoon vanilla. Serve warm or cold.

Mary’s Lemon Sauce

Melt 1/2 cup butter over moderate heat. Stir in 1 cup sugar, 4 Tablespoons water, 1 beaten egg, 1/4 cup lemon juice, and the grated rind of 1 or more lemons, to taste. Cook and stir until it boils and thickens a bit and then remove from heat. It will thicken further as it cools.

Heartwings Love Notes 2043 Gaining Independence

Posted on July 7, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “Independence is a goal to be sought after.”

My son Robin insisted on his independence almost from the time he was born. Some children are like that. He resisted attempts to keep him confined in any way, and it was challenging to try. As they say, the apple did not fall far from the tree. I fear I was much the same as a child, though maybe not as emphatically. I know that to this day, I have a vital streak of independence.

From the beginning of my memory, I was raised to be strong, to not cry unless hard pressed, not to complain and to be as brave as I could. This may have been because I was the oldest and only child for the first eight years of my life. I well recall holding my father’s hands while jumping in the big waves at the beach where we stayed in my great aunt’s beach cottage. They were big waves, and we would stand in them, jumping up as they broke over us. It was exhilarating.

I wasn’t granted independence to leave the large property where we lived, but I could wander all over it, climbing trees and playing my games of pretend on the long summer days of my childhood. I remember one summer I would pretend I was the goose girl of the fairy tale by that name and let the six or seven geese had raised that year, out of their pen, herding them down to the little wetlands and back. I was always safe on the property, and my parents had confidence in me. No doubt that contributed to my sense of independence.

Sometimes this strong sense works to my advantage, and at other times it does not. It has taken me time to recognize that sometimes I really do need help, whether it is getting out of a car or up from a deep armchair or sofa. I appreciate it enormously when a dinner guest washes our dishes or helps with food preparation. I am learning my limits, something I am often loath to acknowledge and also learning to accept help graciously.

Sometimes it is entertaining to have a new way of doing something. When my daughter suggested I try it, I recently had fun riding the shopping cart at the supermarket. Maybe I’ll do that again, perhaps even next time and avoid getting so tired from shopping. Sometimes independence can mean freedom from discomfort and disability.

Independence can certainly mean many things. In some countries the independence of free speech, let alone freedom of behavior, does not exist. When this is threatened, it is important to take notice. As the saying goes, freedom is not free, it must be maintained. I still try to be independent, even as I also try to remember to ask for help. In addition, I try to remember to be grateful for the independence I still do have.

May you find your way to whatever independence you wish to enjoy,

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS If you have comments or tales to tell, please share them. It is my joy to be in touch with my readers.

Heartwings Love Notes 2040: Gifts My Father Gave Me

Posted on June 16, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “Gifts may be actual and not physical, either or both.”

It’s time to celebrate fathers, and I have been thinking about my dad and how special he was to me, and also to the many people who appreciated his witty behavior. He loved to be entertaining as well as to entertain. Cocktail parties were his chief delight and he gave them often.

He was a generous person. One memory I have is of him sitting by the living room fireplace at Christmas time, wrapping the generous gifts he gave to the gardeners and caretakers of the estates he did business with. He was a horticulturist by nature, like his grandfather, and professionally, an arborist. He truly enjoyed his work and he was very good at it, able to size up a landscape and improve the views from the windows of the any home he was hired to work for.

One special gift he gave me was a love of trees plus the ability to spot what they might need done to improve them. He often took me with him, especially in the summer, when he drove around either supervising his men where they were working or estimating the work to be done for those who had hired him and the company he worked for. As I travel the roads of my town and its neighbors, to this day, I notice trees and find myself thinking of their needs.

He loved flowers and grew beautiful roses. I wish I had inherited that ability. My efforts to grow them have not met with success. I did inherit his love for flowers, buying them to bring their loveliness into my home when I can. My mother once told me that when they were newly married and he was an aspiring playwright, Daddy would spend the grocery money on flowers leaving them forced to have oatmeal to eat for supper. On special occasions, he would often provide my mother and me with corsages. She would get an orchid, while I got a fragrant gardenia, which I loved.

Above all, he was generous with his time and energy, serving in a volunteer capacity as treasurer to a variety of local organizations. He read for the blind on a local radio station, and I’m sure did other kind actions I never knew about. He was deeply religious, attended his Episcopalian church every Sunday, and took us to services on Christmas and Easter, which I loved, another significant gift.

No one is perfect. Neither was he. But the gifts he gave me far outweigh any negative aspects of his character. He set me an important example of the importance of being of service that has increasingly guided my life. Working on behalf of the greater good is what I call it. It’s about showing up for a need. Whether caring for the landscape or for the world at large, my father set a fine example.

May you remember your fathers’ gifts with joy.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS Please, if you have stories to share, write to me and share them. I so enjoy hearing from my readers. Email me at tashahal, at Gmail.com, and check out my blog at http://tashasperspective.com.

Heartwings Love Notes 2038 Precious Moments

Posted on June 1, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “Memories are fun to rummage through, and can be entertaining.”

I don’t use my cell phone often. Usually when I do, it’s to text one of a few friends to share with or for communication with family. So recently, when it rang with a number I didn’t recognize, I figured it was spam. I picked it up and found that it was a call from my grandson inviting us to visit on an app called Face Time. He lives with his wife in Saudi Arabia and he wanted to share his infant son, now four months, with Stephen and me.

Such precious moments are pages in my mental memory album. Some days they show up unbidden to help me recall a time and a place from the recent or even the distant past. One day I had an image of me in my skates, wobbling on a patch of frozen water in a wetland on my Great aunt’s property. I’m around eight years old and I’m wearing my snowsuit with its cute bonnet tied under my chin.

The feeling of the thick woolen snowsuit with its accompanying snow-pants comes back to me, the vivid memory expanding as I think about it. Nylon outerwear and lightweight winter clothing was in the future. Such memories are fun to enjoy and help me recall a childhood spent outdoors. As long as the weather was neither windy or too cold, I was appropriately dressed and sent out of doors to play among the trees and open fields of the property.

Recently I recalled how after there had been a great storm, a large section of a tree trunk, perhaps three feet in diameter and four or five long appeared in the wetlands we called a swamp, though by today’s standards, it really was not. I was delighted to see it and it became part of my fun, serving as a kind of home for small things. I played “house” a lot of the time. Then I found something really special. It was a pane of glass, not chipped, cracked or imperfect in any way, with blue and gold painted around the edges.

As I reflect on it now, it seems to me it was probably part of a picture frame, but then it was a magical item to be cherished and admired, a treasure given me by the sea. It became part of my log home and cherished accordingly. Then one day there was another great storm and when I went to where it had been, the log and the pane of glass were both gone without a trace. I was a bit sad, but soon went on to find other playthings. Still the items remain, standing out in my memory of my childhood spent outdoors in nature.

I know now how fortunate I was to have this special time growing up. So many children do not have that experience. Nature is such a fine teacher. Her school provides a lifelong experience that surpasses anything a computer or a cell phone can provide.

May you have recollections to enjoy from time to time

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS Love to hear your reminiscences, and hoping you would like to share. Please write me at tashahal@gmail.com, and sign up here at my blog to get more Love Notes at http://tashasperspective/pujakins.

Heartwings Love Notes 2031: The Virtue of Small Tasks

Posted on April 7, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “Where you put your focus is vital to your success.”

My mother used to tell me she enjoyed hanging out the laundry because when she finished doing so, she felt as though she had accomplished something. It gave her a feeling of satisfaction. At the time I was buried in tasks built around mothering my five very active, very creative children and was happy to have an electric dryer to do the work for me.

These days after many years of hanging the laundry out on the various clotheslines or racks in the different places I’ve lived, I again rely on a dryer, though for different reasons. Due to my Parkinson’s’, the time it takes me to accomplish anything has quadrupled, or nearly so, depending on the task.

I can’t do much about this. There is truth in that half humorous Pennsylvania Dutch saying, “The faster I go, the behinder I get.” In other words, when I try to hurry what I am doing, I make foolish errors or mess up in some way that delays me even more. Sometimes I feel like the adolescent with poor proprioception that I once was, who used to drop things, bump into them, or stumble over whatever got in my way. Nowadays there is a word for that condition, back then I was said to be clumsy.

Instead, I try to bring my attention to whatever I am attempting. It helps me when instead of allowing myself to be distracted, I focus on that and that alone. However, what I find to be the most useful are the small, daily chores I once hurried through in order to “get things done.”

I have made peace with tomorrow, recognizing that unless there is a hard and fast deadline, most things can be delayed without problems or harm. In addition, I get training in letting go of the ego satisfaction I used to derive from being efficient. The difficulty with ego satisfaction is that it’s distracting and not necessarily helpful.When I seek satisfaction as a goal, instead of a focus on accomplishing the task, it really does take away from my ability to function efficiently.

In trying to satisfy my ego, I’m not as able to pursue the best way to get something done. It’s easy to miss what works best when you are looking for what feels good to you. I’ve also noticed that these days, for many, faster seems to equate to better. No craftsperson worth her or his salt feels that way. I am reminded of the film The Karate Kid about the martial arts student whose teacher instructed him, “Wax on, wax off” as he worked on a car.

There is also the saying, “Chop wood, carry water,” a Buddhist perspective in reference to every day accomplishments. It’s all really about doing what is there to be done, the best way you can. Small tasks done with loving attention are as worthwhile as great accomplishments, however they are done.

May you find joy in whatever task you are pursuing.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

P.S. Do you have any hints or helps along these lines? I can always use good ones, and I so enjoy hearing from readers. Reach out to me at Tashahal@gmail.com, and sign up for more Love Notes at https://tashasperspective.com/Pujakins.

Heartwings Love Notes: Eggs and Easter Memories

Posted on April 1, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “Like Easter, Eggs are symbols of beginnings and renewal, the essence of spring.”

My father was attuned to all things that concerned or had to do with nature. His grandfather was an amateur horticulturist, who may have been his first teacher. Though he never studied horticulture or took classes as far as I know, he had a broad interest in plants and trees. He also kept chickens, and we always had plenty of fresh eggs, as well as chicken to eat. I can still see my mother, standing by the sink, plucking the feathers from the younger chicken she was roasting for dinner, or from the elderly fowl, no longer laying eggs, that was headed for soup.

During World War II many things were scarce, eggs among them. We had plenty to share, so daddy would often sell a dozen eggs to people he knew, receiving whatever he charged for them to defray the cost of the grain and mash he fed the layers. I can remember him once, laughing over a rather rude response he got from one customer, an acquaintance, who told him to go around to the back with his delivery. He didn’t take it to heart, because he had a good sense of humor. I was often called upon to feed and water the hens, and I received a small allowance—fifty cents a week, for doing so.

What brought all this to mind was the fact that this weekend it’s Easter, and eggs are an important symbol of the holiday, as well as a prominent feature. One year, as I recall we had so many eggs, my mother and father decided to hold an Easter egg hunt. I helped color the eggs, but was not allowed to participate in the hunt. I remember looking wistfully out the window from the second floor of our home as the invited children of friends scurried around, discovering the hiding places of the eggs. The adults were probably enjoying cocktails and snacks, as they often did at gatherings my dad hosted.

Besides eggs, Easter in my household meant flowers, both corsages for my mother and for me, and flowers in vases and plants in pots for the house. It also meant wearing hats in church. I recall a straw hat with a broad, turned up brim. It had a wide blue grosgrain ribbon that went around the crown and hung down in the back, descending from a bow. We attended two services, first my mother’s Catholic one, then my father’s Episcopalian one, which I loved. There was singing of familiar hymns—we sang one or two of them each morning at my school’s morning meetings, plus the service’s words were in English. Even better, there were cushions to kneel on instead of the hard wooden benches of my mother’s church. Happily, there was a geranium for me and every other child there, to take home after the service was over. Such spring symbols bring the assurance that the old is passing away and the new is here.

May you find your heart renewed by spring’s symbols.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS If you have any Easter stories, please send them along, I love hearing from you. You can write me at tashahal@gmail.com. Sign up for more Love Notes at my blog, found at https://tashasperspective.com/Pujakins

Heartwings Love Notes 2018 Four Seasons of Beaut

Posted on January 7, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “Take the time to look around you, especially when you are in nature.”

From the age of seven or eight onward, I often accompanied my father, a horticulturist as well as an arborist, when he visited clients. To this day my eye is drawn to the needs of trees as I pass them or visit with their owners. I have a great regard for the beauty of trees in every season.

Trees have always been special to me. I spent many days climbing and perched in them, reading or drawing. One of my greatest delights as a child was to sit in the big Beech tree toward the middle of my great aunt’s estate where I grew up, to read. I was a voracious reader and devoured books, especially tales of adventure. One of my very favorites was The Swiss Family Robinson, about a shipwrecked family that built and lived in a tree house.

I was fortunate in growing up surrounded by nature. The property where we lived was first developed by my great grandfather, an amateur horticulturist with a great interest in flowers and trees. In his large garden he grew a variety of vegetables, in other, smaller ones, flowers.

My father and mother gardened as well. My practical mother grew vegetables, my romantic father grew roses and many other kinds of flowering bulbs and annuals. My love of nature grew as I did. I wrote poetry about it at an early age. Sometimes I created little booklets for my mother. Happily for me, she saved them and gave them back some thirty years later.

Because I was an only child until I was eight and a half, and we had no close neighbors with children near my age, I spent much of my time alone. I didn’t really mind this; I made my own fun by playing out imaginary scenarios based on my reading. The property we lived on was large, and I could wander it safely. Now, some eighty years later, though still in the same state, I live far from where I grew up. Yet the nature of my childhood still takes my eye and inspires me.

Driving the roads where I live, I am delighted in every season by the trees and the gardens I pass. The loveliness of the spring, summer and fall in New England is equaled by the graceful bare branches of trees in winter, stretched across the sky.

Beauty is where we find it, and if we are of a mind to seek it, it is everywhere. The wildflowers in their season that spring up by the side of the road are wonderful to see, as are the bright dandelions that grow in various cracks and crevices as well as on lawns where they are allowed. Drops of dew or raindrops that linger in spiderwebs or stretches of weed patches catch the light and glisten where that marvelous artist, nature, puts them. When I take the time to look, in every season there is always something to be seen, and I am ever grateful.

May you find beauty each day, and be grateful for what you find.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS If you have stories or experiences to share, or comments or questions for me, I’d be so happy to read them. It is a joy to hear from readers. Thank you for reading and know that I appreciate you.