Lest we forget

Fifty years later, I still can't let November 11th pass without thinking about my fifth grade teacher, Jim Milne.  Every year he would recite "Flanders Fields" to his class and he would never finish without breaking down first.  He also told us he was a descendant of the author. (Nephew?)

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

    That mark our place; and in the sky

    The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.



We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

        In Flanders fields.



Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

    The torch; be yours to hold it high.

    If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

        In Flanders fields.

In extras I have put a collage of MiniMe drinking from the garden fountain and the bird bath.  Really?!  She has a nice drinking fountain.  Cats you gotta love 'em!