There are times when I have to leave breakfast to be made by those that are left behind. The sleeper-inners. You know who you are. Stay up half the night, sleeping in until almost ten. Color me gone by 7 AM. Breakfast is done, put away with only the coffee pot still hanging out. I'm not cruel, I know they need their coffee. This was a quick and easy one of the girls made up because it is easy and basically they are a bit lazy when they get up and there is nary a bowl of porridge left. I ask you, what's a mother to do?

It's easiest if you use Happy Eggs, yes? I won't have any frowny faces around here. They are actually from a local farmer, I trade off raspberry jam for eggs. I have too many and it works out pretty well for both of us. One thing is for sure, those yolks are as golden as the happy eggs Every time one goes in the pan, I am delighted, all over again. So, of course, I want to start with Happy Eggs.

-Crack an egg in the center and close the lid again, cooling the egg as you normally would. Make sure to season the egg to taste. I generally season the potatoes liberally and do not season the egg at all.

This actually slides right off the griddle and will come off in one piece to a plate. Not a grand effort, but, it is yummy delicious!

These have a nice color that goes nicely with toast or on its own. Now, one of my daughters drives me crazy as she uses my mom's old Corelle. I promised her, she could have it when she leaves home. I like a few things on hand that are quick and easy to make, without a bunch of fuss! :)

All I have are my words, armed in my mind, written in pen, stand by stand. Oh, yes. Still by hand. It has a different feel. Altered not by keys, backspace, and delete, I write, erase, tear it to pieces and start all over again. And again.

There is #alwaysaflower to color my world, with love. And just like that, this post is over. Come back tomorrow and we will do it again!

Lines Written in Early Spring

I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?

William Wordworth