Archive for October, 2011

This I wrote in April 2004. I was apparently deeply touched by something…Silence?

Blue Moon by Michael Cox

Silence is quiet
It speaks…
Peace or pain

Silence is loud
It screams…
Thoughts unspoken
Real or unreal
Truth or untruth

Silence is not always golden
Silence can be a black hole
Silence may be more painful
Than the words of truth

©April 2004


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Favorite Resting Spot by the Reedy River (photo by Ann Marquette)

And slowly walking along the river this next one is another favorite spot.

Reedy River and Falls under Liberty Bridge 2010 by Ann Marquette

Just thinking about this makes me smile.  Easy answer for me, and easy to show you.


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Picture of several candles melting in the dark...

Image via Wikipedia

Time to share my annual Halloween Story, which I wrote when I lived in Ireland.


They come in the night, but only once a year…for Halloween.
In Old Ireland…it all began, a long, long time ago, about a century perhaps.It was almost deserted, the countryside. There was a graveyard very near a small thatched cottage. It was nighttime the end of October, and Autumn seemed more like Winter. The rain and wind began their song and dance as the pitch black of the night descended. The only light in the surrounding countryside came from the little fire and two candles burning in the tiny cottage.Father settled in his chair in front of the warm crackling fire, with his corncob pipe. Mother was there too, mending old clothes. The children were playing and whispering together. The boy, six years old, had fair hair and deep penetrating blue eyes that never said what was lurking in the mind behind them. He was very intelligent, but didn’t talk much except with his sister. She was five, with brownish hair and dark brown eyes that seemed to look into your very soul. She too was very smart, but more outgoing than her brother was. Their Father was the keeper of the graveyard, and also the one who dug the graves. The relatives of those buried there lived rather far away and were not able to visit the cemetery very often, or at all. So, it was up to this quiet gentle man to look after the place. The children would go there often to play. Sometimes they seemed to be talking to other people, but no one else could be seen. Mother was a quiet, soft-spoken woman. She took care of the family and home. What else was there to do in this lovely, but deserted part of the country. Just as on other nights, they gathered around the fire after dinner. They would take turns telling stories or just talking about their day. This particular night Father was telling one of his favorite stories…from the old days! Suddenly, there came a sound, then another, and another. It sounded like voices, but very distant, very hushed…and very, very eerie. They all heard it, but would not let each other know they heard it. Father stopped his storytelling only a moment…almost like a brief pause. Until…each time it became a little louder and closer. They looked at each other, especially mother and father. They began to shiver with the cold increasing beyond normal. With a shrug, Father said “its just the rain and wind talking to each other.” But, then it came even closer, louder…more distinct, like voices, talking, then screeching, kind of a crying howling sound. The silence in the little cottage was sudden and tense. The sound, noises, voices…whatever they were, were so frightening and kept getting louder and closer. Father thought to himself “maybe I should board up the windows and block the door.” Mother, to herself, “I should blow out the candles and maybe the darkness will make them go away.” Then they heard voices, saying “Don’t lock us out, and blowing out the candles won’t do any good. What about the fire? We could still find you anyway.” They all heard it and began to shake with fear as a knock, and another knock, and another was heard at the front door. They sat there frozen, looking at each other, when a voice said, “please, let us in!” No answer came so the voice said it again “let us in.” Well, the Father, thinking this whole thing very silly, finally rose slowly and went to the door. From where the mother and children sat in front of the fireplace they could see just what father saw when he, slowly and cautiously, opened the door. The visions were that of human shapes, but very very strange and spooky indeed. The visions all spoke very slowly and distant like “give us something to eat.” “Who are you and where do you come from?” asked Father. In unison again, they said, “we have come a long journey, but not far away.” This didn’t seem to make much sense, but everyone was in such shock. Mother asked, “what do you want?”“ We want something to eat. If we don’t get something nice to eat, we will do things you won’t like. If you give us good things to eat, we will go away and not bother you.” Mother decided to put out all the lovely things she spent the day baking and hoped it would satisfy them so they would go away. After what seemed a very long time, but in fact was only a few minutes, they had finished every last morsel. The strange beings began to leave. But, as they were going out the door they said “That was very nice, so we will be here again same time next year and every year forever after.” They left so suddenly, and the silence was so deafening it was like they’d never been there. Mother would have thought she’d been dreaming, except all the goodies she had baked all day were gone…not a crumb left. Father also thought he imagined it all. The children however, knew all along what was happening as it had been planned all day. The Visitors were their friends, the ones they talked to in the cemetery. The brother and sister had told their friends of mother baking all the goodies that day, and decided to play a trick on her and Father. That night was October 31, midnight. And, every year after that they came. Mother and Father never knew the truth…although, I’m sure they do now. But, the children had continued the traditional even after Mother and Father died, and taught their children to do the same. Their children passed it on down the line through the generations. After the first year the Visitors told others and the group of visitors grew each year, so more and more homes were needed to treat them. Now when you hear strange sounds on Halloween night, and you think it’s the usual neighborhood ghosts and goblins, you may be right…so don’t forget those goodies, or else…

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A photo of a Rusa Deer which is known by its s...

Image by Fayez via Wikipedia

I had a lovely surprise this morning outside my front door.

 I live in a small townhouse community partially surrounded by some good size sections of trees.  There are other areas around where the trees have not been chopped down yet.  It is common to see deer, even running across the main streets.  My community is back off one of the main streets, down a little hill and not visible unless you happen to come down that little side street and come over the hill to the entrance of this place.

 I have occasionally seen a deer around the entrance area of this community.   Have never seen one back here where my house is, at the very back of our neighborhood.  Until today…

 This morning as I looked out the window part of my front door, the sight which greeted me caused my mouth to drop open in awe and wonder.  There across from my house, walking alongside the tree line were FIVE deer, one behind the other.  They were walking pretty fast and before I could get my camera they went down in the ditch along the base of the trees and walked out of sight.  

 What a   beautiful surprise for a Sunday Morning.


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Like all of our writing needs to be checked and re-checked for spelling errors, people’s names are especially important to get correct.

Note that I am just being curious, not upset.  Well, maybe a little upset.   I remember when I was young, especially when I started working, right out of high school; I was taught it was important to spell people’s names correctly.  It is such a personal thing and everyone deserves to have their name spelled they way they spell it.

I have made mistakes in spelling, and even on occasion someone’s name, but I try to remember to look and see how they spell it, or ask.  Many names used to be spelled one way, or at least most of the time.  So we presume that everyone with that name spells it the same way.  Over the years more people have decided to spell their names differently… Lisa/Liza, Amy/Amie, Linda/Lynda etc.

My name is spelled Ann.  I am told that many in the south would spell it with the “e” on the end, but not all.  For some reason this year more than ever people are spelling my first name with an “e” on the end of it.  And it doesn’t matter what part of the country they live in, or even if they are from another country.  This happens even though the way I spell it is in all of my communications; blog posts, Facebook, even emails.  We also need to make sure we know how to spell the person’s last name.  If you don’t know, and cannot “see” how they spell it, then ask.

Has your name frequently been misspelled?  How do you feel about it?

P.S.  If you see something misspelled in any of my posts, please tell me so I can correct it 🙂  Thanks,

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Love this topic because those of us who love to take photos, some of the best are when we are in the right place at the right time to catch something good, or maybe even great.  I enjoy capturing people enjoying the Reedy River and waterfall along Falls park in Greenville, SC.  Here are a couple I took last weekend.

Refreshing, But Cold by Ann Marquette

Resting In The Sunshine by Ann Marquette

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Last weekend throughout the St. Francis Fall for Greenville Festival I took lots of photos…not unusual for me 🙂  Sitting out front of Starbucks on Main St. I saw this adorable little girl.

Smiling Cutie photo by Ann Marquette

Clemson Cutie photo by Ann Marquette

Cutie between her parents photo by Ann Marquette

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I spent the last three days in Greenville visiting friends and enjoying the annual Fall for Greenville festival. http://www.fallforgreenville.net

I am going to share a few photos over the next few days.

Big Bubble 2 photo by Ann Marquette

Big Bubble 1 photo by Ann Marquette

Food from Runway Cafe photo by Ann Marquette

Food from Nose Dive photo by Ann Marquette

Food from Soby's photo by Ann Marquette

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The best way I can explain is a piece I wrote some years ago.

Friends are the richest blessings we can have.

When we accept a new friend into our lives, we must take them as they are…warts and wonders.

Our friends must be given the freedom to come and go, in and out of our lives as they need.
Yet, when we feel a great need to share a thought, feeling, or time with a friend we should let them know…especially to let them know we care for and love them.

Some friends are like leaves on a tree, and the time comes for them to fall away from our lives and move on to become friends with others. We each leave a part of ourselves with the other.

Other friends are like rocks, here to stay with us through thick and thin…all the days of our lives.

Friendships, long or short-term, should be cherished and tended as the most valuable gift we have in life.

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Our country has a silent epidemic…it is called suicide.

Not only people who are being bullied, but many in depression even if it is situational and not chemical depression. People who continually feel invisible, alone, unloved. Many people cannot understand why someone could commit suicide. How many times have you been talking with someone, answering a question they asked you about your life…in the middle of your answer someone breaks into the conversation about something totally different; and you never get to finish your part of the original conversation? Or maybe after asking the question you turned your attention to someone else instead of listening to the answer? Do we truly care about the other person? Are we really interested in hearing what someone else has to say?

Recently a friend, Trey committed suicide. He was going through some serious tough times in his life. He was a kind and caring man. One of his strongest beliefs was that everyone needs and deserves to be heard. Yet he was in so much emotional pain that something pushed him over the line and he took his own life.

I have heard of at least 3 other suicides within the past month, and a great many more stories of past suicides.

Trey’s brother, Erick has decided to spend the rest of his life fighting to stop suicide.  I urge you to read Erick’s blog and let us encourage continued dialogue about this epidemic and what we can do to help stop people from killing themselves, to let them know they ARE important, that they matter to us. http://warrioragainstsuicide.blogspot.com/2011/09/new-beginning.html

Here is a piece I wrote a few years ago. It is sad, but think about someone who may feel like this on a regular basis, they feel no one really cares about giving some quality time to really listen to them.

Let us create a society where it is not taboo to talk about this and find ways to STOP SUICIDE.

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wooden sailing boat Kleine Freiheit - 70 year ...

Image via Wikipedia

I wrote this the Summer of 1992

He sits there for a while, watching her at rest.
She is so beautiful…tall and sleek, with curves
in just the right places. She excites him so,
when she runs with the wind. And when she
takes him dancing gracefully through the soft
breezes he is at peace with the world, and himself.

There are times when he has to go long periods
without her. He lives for the hours he can spend
with her. He works to support her because of the
joy she gives him. He takes care of her with
gentle affection. She is the only love he wants in
his life. She never asks for anything, never nags,
never frightens him with feelings of love expressed.
She doesn’t have a heart that breaks.

They never go home together after spending time
together. They never walk, hand in hand, never
share a meal, an evening by the fire, a swing on
the porch, the day’s frustrations or joys, a kiss
or a hug. They cannot fall asleep in each others
arms, nor wake to a good morning kiss.

As much as she means to him, she is after all…
only a sailboat…no flesh and blood. No caring heart
ready to be beside him always…loving him in return.


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 I wrote in 2004. I hope you enjoy it.

Were you real, or
Just a dream…
One moment in time…
Only my imagination…

Suddenly you were here
alive and real, almost
then just as suddenly
you are gone

There was…
for a moment in time
something very special
something beyond description
between you and me,
then you are gone

We were so very connected
so much one spirit
so creatively of one mind
the feeling was so strong
or was it…

Just a dream…
One moment in time…
Only my imagination…

©March 13, 2004

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Here are sunset photos I took when I stayed at Moonstone Beach, Cambria, CA in 2004.  I would love to go back for another visit.

Sunset 1 at Moonstone Beach, Cambria CA by Ann Marquette

Sunset 2 - Moonstone Beach, Cambria, CA by Ann Marquette

Sunset 3 - Moonstone Beach, Cambria, CA by Ann Marquette

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Ok, I know that in the U.S. this season is referred to as Fall, but the word Autumn creates a more beautiful vision for me…multi-colored leaves drifting to the ground by a lovely breeze on this beautiful sunny, and a little cool day.

With the cooler weather yesterday and today I spent my time cleaning house from top to bottom. Actually almost close to spring cleaning in autumn. Another reason I’m cleaning is because I have someone coming to look at the house tomorrow…it’s For Sale.

Here is a view of my autumn from the living room window…

Autumn Outside My Window by Ann Marquette

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