♧ Nature Quote ♧

How strange that Nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude! 
Emily Dickinson, letter to Mrs. J.S. Cooper, 1880

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________░✯ _░░ ▓▓▓▒▒▒▓__ __█_█ 
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"Fuzzy Flowers"

Was walking in the garden of my in-laws today and spotted this purple, fuzzy flower. Don't know what kind of flower this is, but it sure is beautiful!

There where also growing, what we call, lampoons, dutch translation; lampionnen". Awesome, I just LOVE those :-)

Breeding Duck

A few weeks ago we where on vacation with my Parents, Sister, Husband & Kids. We went to a castle in Brabant.When we got there we saw a duck in the Flower Pot in front of the door. We silently went in to the house.....and almost did not use the front door the whole weekend. That would have scared her off. Just look how cute, I was able to take a picture (zoomed in) before we went into the house.

Hope you enjoyed this little story. Wishing you all a great weekend and awesome Summer Vacation in advance! 

Wild Flowers

Yesterday we visited my mother in law, it's was her birthday. I am always amazed about all the wild flowers in their beautiful garden. A lot of them weren't even planted by them, they just seem to "appear" every year. Get ready for some breath taking pictures :-)
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Poem: I Picked A Flower

I picked a flower from a bush
Put it in a vase next to my bed
But how was I to know
That the flower cried for its bush
That the bush cried for its flower
But how was I to know
That the flower would die in an hour

The flower withered away
And I put it inside my book
Because I loved the flower so
But how was I to know

That the flower gasped for breath
That it was facing death
But how was I to know
That the flower so badly wanted to go

And I kept the flower close to me
So that every day I could see
But how was I know
That the flower that I had loved so
Had always hated me
That there was pain I couln't see

And how was I to know?
That the flower cried for its bush
That the bush cried for its flower
But how was I to know
That the flower would die in an hour
The flower withered away
And I put it inside my book
Because I loved the flower so
But how was I to know

That the flower gasped for breath
That it was facing death
But how was I to know
That the flower so badly wanted to go

And I kept the flower close to me
So that every day I could see
But how was I know
That the flower that I had loved so
Had always hated me
That there was pain I couln't see

And how was I to know?
The flower withered away
And I put it inside my book
Because I loved the flower so
But how was I to know

That the flower gasped for breath
That it was facing death
But how was I to know
That the flower so badly wanted to go

And I kept the flower close to me
So that every day I could see
But how was I know
That the flower that I had loved so

Had always hated me
That there was pain I couln't see
And how was I to know?
That the flower gasped for breath
That it was facing death

But how was I to know
That the flower so badly wanted to go
And I kept the flower close to me
So that every day I could see

But how was I know
That the flower that I had loved so
Had always hated me
That there was pain I couln't see

And how was I to know?
And I kept the flower close to me
So that every day I could see
But how was I know

That the flower that I had loved so
Had always hated me
That there was pain I couln't see
And how was I to know? 

With special thanks to:
Shobhita Singh, the author of this poem