Inspired Joyfully

“Stay away from those people who try to disparage your ambitions. Small minds will always do that, but great minds will give you a feeling that you can become great too.” — Mark Twain

“If you believe something needs to exist, if it's something you want to use yourself, don't let anyone ever stop you from doing it.” —Tobias Lütke :D

For every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

You can never cross the ocean until you have the courage to lose sight of the shore. –Christopher Columbus 😉

“For every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Western Larch Tree (Larix Occidentalis)

The western larch tree is a species of larch that is native to the mountains of western North America. They are a very cold tolerant tree, and will commonly be found growing in well drained and dry rocky soils.

These are large deciduous conifers, sometimes gaining heights of over 35 meters. They have needle-like leaves that are a light green color. The main branches of the tree are upsweeping, and the side branches are down sweeping. This creates an interesting crown shape. Bark peels away in narrow strips.

The western larch tree has been used in the past for yacht and boat building, as the tree is very tolerant of water damage and harsh conditions.

The Common Fig Tree (Ficus Carica)

The common fig tree is a species of flowering plant that is native to
the Mediterranean and western Asia. It is part of the mulberry family, and has been naturalized in North America as well. They prefer to grow in deep and moist soil, though they have been known to grow in rocky dry locations as well.

These are small trees, sometimes called shrubs, and will grow to be between 7 and 10 meters tall. They possess very fragrant waxy leaves as well as attractive flowers. They have white, smooth bark, and are of course best known for their delicious and fleshy fruit.

The common fig tree have been cultivated since ancient times, and there are records of this tree being farmed in wild, dry, and sunny locations for thousands of years. Today the common fig tree is cultivated all over the world for its delicious fruit.

Marguerite Flower

Pale little lassie out among the daisies

Why are you so lonely this golden afternoon?

All your little comrades laugh and sport together;

Come then and be merry, child, for it is June.

"Ah, I love the daisies! they are my little sisters,

Sometimes in the meadow they keep me all the day.

Happily we dream and wander in the sunshine;

There were never playmates as beautiful as they.

When I bend my head down close and close above them,

Where the listening breezes cannot catch a word,

Pretty things they tell me, all the meadow secrets,

In the softest voices that were ever heard.

You could never guess the odd, sweet things they teach me,

How the laughing song came to the bobolink;

Why the sunshine tries so hard to catch the shadows;

What the raindrops whisper, and the grasses think.

Always when I'm sad I come to them for comfort;

For they understand,—the daisies are so wise,--

You should see them hold their faces up to kiss me,

Softly touch my hand, and look into my eyes.

Sometimes at my work I think I hear them calling,

"Daisy, sister Daisy, come out, we want you, dear!"

How they laugh to see me, all across the meadow,

As I haste to answer, "Darlings, I am here!"

Lassie, little lassie, your brain is full of fancies,

Let the flowers make playmates of the wind and sun,

Human friends are sweeter than the fickle daisies;

They will go and leave you when the summer's done.

But the lassie answers, "From their dainty snow-beds

I can hear their voices in winter just the same,

In my dreams I wander with my meadow-sisters,

Ah, 'tis well they called me by the daisy's name."

Marguerite
By Carrie W. Bronson
Good Housekeeping, June 26, 1886.

What is lawngrass?

On a sunny clear-blue day. I get out the lawnmower.
To give the grass it hair-cut. As it was long and wild.
As, I started up the clipper on wheels, the sound was very loud.

As, the blade's was spinning like a tornado.
Everything underneath was blowing away.
Pushing the lawnmower toward the grass.
Whacking away, all of it lock's.

Carefully, making sure the grass is perfectly-cut.

After, finishing up.I took a glance of the yard.
Seeing my work of art. My yard had a perfect-cut.

by Derrick Clark

The Aster Flower

Pale on its stalk, the aster flower
Exhales its beauty to the night;
The dry leaves scatter on the grass,
Brown flecks on bits of jade.
The haze of autumn hides the trees,
To-night shall be turned the hour-glass of my life;
Now all my thoughts going homewards
In the distance are singing songs of you.

Purple and gold, the aster flower
Is an image of my autumnal love:
Its golden centre is like a torch
To kindle joy in the long still night,
A torch of love with violet rays,
Grief at its enigmatic heart:
Frail clustered flower of my dreams,
You shall bloom to-night, you shall bloom to-night!

The city is like an aster flower,
Out of the city I come to you,
Out of the purple heart of the night,
Swifter than song, lighter than light.
Purple and gold, my aster flower,
I am the wind of the autumn night:
I look in your eyes, you breathe my breath,
We rest together till dawn has come.

by John Gould Fletcher

Daisy Flower

The dayseye hugging the earth
in August, ha! Spring is
gone down in purple,
weeds stand high in the corn,
the rainbeaten furrow
is clotted with sorrel
and crabgrass, the
branch is black under
the heavy mass of the leaves--
The sun is upon a

slender green stem
ribbed lengthwise.
He lies on his back--
it is a woman also--
he regards his former
majesty and
round the yellow center,
split and creviced and done into
minute flowerheads, he sends out
his twenty rays-- a little

and the wind is among them
to grow cool there!

One turns the thing over
in his hand and looks
at it from the rear: brownedged,
green and pointed scales
armor his yellow.

But turn and turn,
the crisp petals remain
brief, translucent, greenfastened,
barely touching at the edges:
blades of limpid seashell.

by William Carlos Williams

What is Forest?

There is singing of birds in the deep wet woods,
In the heart of the listening solitudes,
Pewees, and thrushes, and sparrows, not few,
And all the notes of their throats are true.

The thrush from the innermost ash takes on
A tender dream of the treasured and gone;
But the sparrow singeth with pride and cheer
Of the might and light of the present and here.

There is shining of flowers in the deep wet woods,
In the heart of the sensitive solitudes,
The roseate bell and the lily are there,
And every leaf of their sheaf is fair.

Careless and bold, without dream of woe,
The trilliums scatter their flags snow;
But the pale wood-daffodil covers her face,
Agloom with the doom of a sorrowful race.

By Archibald Lampman

What is a mountain?

You ask me why I dwell in the green mountain;
I smile and make no reply for my heart is free of care.
As the peach-blossom flows down stream and is gone into the unknown,
I have a world apart that is not among men.

Li Bai, the legendary Chinese poet, uses mountains to great effect in many of his poems. One of his most famous, titled variously as “Green Mountain” or “In the Mountains”, perfectly captures the serene solitude that people find on mountain tops.