It sifts from leaden sieves,
    It powders all the wood,
It fills with alabaster wool
The wrinkles of the road.

It makes an even face
Of mountain and of plain, ~
Unbroken forehead from the east
Unto the east again.

It reaches to the fence,
It wraps it rail, by rail,
Till it is lost in fleeces ;
It flings a crystal veil

On stump and stack and stem, ~
The summer's empty room,
Acres of seams where harvests were,
Recordless, but for them.

It ruffles wrists of posts,
As ankles of a queen, ~
Then stills its artisans like ghosts,
Denying they have been.

~ Emily Dickinson

[St. John's Anglican Church]

"I love to be alone.  I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude."

~ Henry David Thoreau

(1817 - 1862) American author, poet, philosopher

Authors and poets write about them.   Artists sketch and paint them.  Photographers capture their beauty.

Many a tree has sheltered animals and birds, providing wildlife their homes.  Trees speak to us from a position of strength and longevity.  We played under trees as children, spend hours sitting beneath them as adults.

We plant trees to commemorate special events.  Trees comfort us when remembering lost loved ones.

The Neat Little Bookshop is launching a Favourite Tree contest in the next few weeks.  We encourage you to think about the trees that have meant something special to you and invite you to submit either a photo or a story telling how a tree, or trees, have played a part in your life.

Deadline for submissions:  May 31, 2015.
[Photo:  Cayuga Tennis Court park on the Grand.  lbw]


Find The Neat Little Bookshop on Facebook

In the following weeks, The Neat Little Bookshop is launching a Favourite Tree contest.

BONNIE PEG
[First published in the Edinburgh Magazine for 1818]

As I came in by our gate end,
    As day was waxin' weary,
O wha came tripping down the street,
     But bonnie Peg, me dearie !

Her air sae sweet, an' shape complete,
    Wi' nae proportion wanting,
The Queen of Love did never move
     Wi' motion mair enchanting.

Wi' linked hands, we took the sands
     A-down you winding river ;
An', oh ! that hour an' broomy brower,
     Can I forget it ever ?

The Poetical Works of ROBERT BURNS, Walter Scott, 24 Warwick Lane, London. ["Presented to John Turnbull By a Friend, Jan 7, 1895.  Township of Seneca.]

Window of The Neat Little Bookshop when we were just "a shelf" on Cayuga Street.

Winston Churchill on Hobbies ~

"To be really happy and really safe, one ought to have at least two or three hobbies, and they must all be real.  It is no use starting late in life to say:  'I will take an interest in this or that.'  Such an attempt only aggravates the strain of mental effort.  A man may acquire great knowledge of topics unconnected with his daily work, and yet hardly get any benefit or relief.  It is no use doing what you like;  you have got to like what you do.  Broadly speaking, human beings may be divided into three classes:  those who are toiled to death, those who are worried to death, and those who are bored to death . . ."

". . .to give that element of change and contrast essential to real relief ~ To restore psychic equilibrium we should call into use those parts of the mind which direct both eye and hand.  Many men have found great advantage in practicing a handicraft for pleasure.  Joinery, chemistry, book-binding, even bricklaying -- if one were interested in them and skillful at them -- would give a real relief to the over-tired brain.  But, best of all and easiest to procure are sketching and painting in all their forms. . ."
"Painting is a companion with whom one may hope to walk a great part of life's journey,
'Age cannot wither her nor custom stale
Her infinite variety.'


~ PAINTING as a pastime, The Right Honourable Winston S. Churchill, 1948, Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ltd.