“Oh,

I smell

spring!”

she cried as she danced along the brook path.

 15,00 1.100,00

“It was a bland day in early April and spring was looking at you round the corners. The Wind Woman was laughing and whistling over the wet sweet fields; freebooting crows held conferences in the tree tops; little pools of sunshine lay in the mossy hollows; the sea was a blaze of sapphire beyond the golden dunes; the maples in Lofty

 John’s bush were talking about red buds. Everything Emily had ever read of dream and myth and legend seemed a part of the charm of that bush. She was filled to her finger-tips with a rapture of living.
“Oh, I smell spring!” she cried as she danced along the brook path.
Then she began to compose a poem on it. Everybody who has

ever lived in the world and could string two rhymes together has written a poem on spring. It is the most be-rhymed subject in the world—and always will be, because it is poetry incarnate itself. You can never be a real poet if you haven’t made at least one poem about spring.”

An excerpt from ‘Emily of New Moon’ by Lucy Maud Montgomery

“Oh,

I smell

spring!”

she cried as she danced along the brook path.

Get this artwork

An excerpt from ‘Emily of New Moon’ by Lucy Maud Montgomery

“It was a bland day in early April and spring was looking at you round the corners. The Wind Woman was laughing and whistling over the wet sweet fields; freebooting crows held conferences in the tree tops; little pools of sunshine lay in the mossy hollows; the sea was a blaze of sapphire beyond the golden dunes; the maples in Lofty

 John’s bush were talking about red buds. Everything Emily had ever read of dream and myth and legend seemed a part of the charm of that bush. She was filled to her finger-tips with a rapture of living.
“Oh, I smell spring!” she cried as she danced along the brook path.
Then she began to compose a poem on it. Everybody who has

ever lived in the world and could string two rhymes together has written a poem on spring. It is the most be-rhymed subject in the world—and always will be, because it is poetry incarnate itself. You can never be a real poet if you haven’t made at least one poem about spring.”

Get this artwork

Go on a treasure hunt for beauty

I believe that this world is full of hidden treasures. There are so many things we don’t notice or take for granted. This challenge will open our eyes to those things and I hope it will bring joy to your heart to realize that there’s so much more beauty in life than you thought before.

start your search here

Sister birds, will you call me out?
Sister birds, will you wake me then?

I do not want to lose any hour.
All the lawn and the house will flower
in the lovely world of light.

I will be free in the summertime.
I want to be in the summertime.
I can walk on for another mile.
The canal and the road will shine.
Even into the forest lies the lovely world of light.

Songs I heard along these boulevards,
all words gone, and also is my courage tried.
But oh I’m alive.

I wish I knew who lived in that house,
and every side street I can’t go down,
and every window to catch the sun,
every window to catch the sun.
And do they feel the same,
everyone in the lovely world of light?

Listen to this lovely song by Karen Peris