Rainy Thursday!

"It's Raining Daffodils"

“It’s Raining Daffodils”


I wanted to share this poem with you all today. The rain from last night and all the spring flowers are what brought it to my mind. It is by Robert Loveman who lived in Dalton, Georgia.

The Rain Song

It isn’t raining rain to me,

It’s raining daffodils;

In every dimpled drop I see

Wild flowers on the hill.

 The clouds of grey engulf the day

And overwhelm the town;

It isn’t raining rain to me,

It’s raining roses down.

 It isn’t raining rain to me,

But fields of clover bloom,

Where any a buccaneering bee

May find a bed and room.

 A health unto the happy

A fig for him who frets.

It isn’t raining rain to me,

It’s raining violets.



Look down!

One more Nanny Caylor story for the week:

My Nanny’s ancestors (The Hartsfields) settled her house and land in 1867 in Varnell, Georgia. As I was growing up, her yard had a plethora of different species of daffodils (including eggs and butter) and bearded irises that she had collected from all over the Southeast, and so much more! She had a special, plain, red rose from a clipping off her Aunt Dolly’s grave in Sugar Valley,  Georgia. There were herbs such as ruby and emerald basil and yucca that had been sent to her house from Oklahoma/Texas from before the turn of the 2oth century. There were also wild violets by the hundreds. When I saw this violet on Monday, it made me think of my Nanny. Take time to look down today and see some of God’s beauty that we often neglect and walk right over.