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Written By Nathan Bolls on February 17, 2020

Mother Earth by Nathan Bolls

I recently received from a friend and was intrigued by “12 Truths I Learned from Life and Writing” by syndicated columnist, Anne Lamott. A sample follows:

Written By Monte Spiller on February 17, 2020

Poem by Monte Spiller , Resident Services Leader

It was a beautiful Sunday evening, in the Miami heat

The Chiefs were losing, many expecting defeat

Ten minutes left and ten points down

There was no way, they could turn this around

 

Momentum had sided, with the team from the bay

on December 16, 2019

By Nancy Julien Kopp

At least once during the Christmas seasons of my 1940s childhood, my mother and I rode the elevated train from suburban Oak Park to downtown Chicago, exiting at the Marshall Field’s station. Pigeons strutted on the wooden platform and railings, flapping soft gray wings now and then, drawing my attention, but Mother pulled me toward a long flight of steps to the street, leaving the pigeons far above us.

Written By Nathan Bolls on November 7, 2019

The loud, thumping trill from the woods booms against our ears. I’m reminded of James Thurber’s “things that go bump in the night.” What Phantom of the Forest with such auditory might lurks therein and calls from the night? Or... “what rough beast...slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?” (W.B. Yeats poem “The Second Coming”) Numerous societies across our world speak of a mysterious local monster, but the existence of none, as of yet, has been proven. We hear most often of the Himalayan Yeti, the north American Sasquatch (Bigfoot), or of Scotland’s Loch Ness Monster.  

on November 7, 2019

by Michele Riter, Community Relations Assistant

 

Written By Nathan Bolls on October 17, 2019

A big topic during our recent “National Climate Week,” was that of “ecological literacy.” The current ecological crisis suggests the necessity for a steep ecological learning curve for all of our world societies, but especially for those of the “industrial belt” that circles the globe north of the equator. This area uses natural resources and produces trash and pollutants at levels that are disproportionate to its percentage of the world’s population.

Written By Becky Fitzgerald on October 17, 2019

Voted “best of the best” by Manhattan Mercury readers, five category winners of our local newspaper’s annual Readers’ Choice awards are competing this fall to claim yet another title: 2019 Hog Kisser! These professionals own or work for local businesses that have reputations for quality and service, and Meadowlark Foundation is fortunate to have convinced them to put their talents to use for the future of Meadowlark residents.

on October 17, 2019

Written by Michele Riter, Community Relations Assistant 

 

“When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang.”

   I believe this quote from one of Shakespeare’s sonnets describes the season of fall perfectly, especially in Kansas.

   Some trees stay green, show yellow and brown hues, or drop their leaves without any chance to become a new color. First, a pigment of chlorophyll—shades of green, fades to carotenoid—yellow, orange and brown. The luckiest of trees have leaves that hang like red rubies against the blue, autumn sky.

Written By Becky Fitzgerald on June 20, 2019

Delightful Discoveries

Gift Prints added to Meadowlark collection

   Meadowlark’s collection of Friends of Art gift prints grew recently thanks, in part, to some detective work by Alyn West, gallerist at Manhattan’s Strecker Nelson West Gallery. Prior to last week, the collection, which hangs in the Stamey Gallery in the hallway between the KSU Classroom and Verna Belle’s Cafe , needed five prints to be complete. Now, only two prints remain to be discovered.

Written By Nathan Bolls on June 14, 2019

These days a great fury is filling the air waves between plants and many of the animals of our world. Ease yourself across the prairie and within its tree- and shrub-filled gullies and patches. Stroll the woods; watch the trees, shrubs, and flowers around your home; or the plants in your gardens. Even with watching closely, you’ll sense very little of the fury, very few of the trillions of small, quiet acts of which I speak.

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