Spring

Jan 22
Posted by jose Filed in News

Then it is this, started the spring At least it is what it says the calendar. A new day amanheceu It was to be a pretty day, of those facts of blue warm and sunny, lightly sprinkled of it I sing innocent of ariscos birds that are jumping happy in the twigs of the flowery trees One day of flowers and kiss-flowers. One day almost perfect, of that people look at, verdinha sees relva, and says: It must have been thus when God created the first day But he is cold and rainy, this day that finished of dawn. In part some has any signal of the flowers of the spring that, according to calendar, already started It is that this day of spring is only plus one day friorento of winter Also in my soul still it is winter. In my soul the spring alone goes to start in the summer, that is when January to arrive It is funny this, silly thing, but depending on when it is started to count all day it is year end.

This year, of a spring to another one, the year passed in a sigh Yesterday still it was winter, before yesterday still was autumn, now already it is spring. The time, over all the time of our life, flies each faster time when it is come close to the end Twenty and four hours are little time for one day. Each day of our lives would have to last a thousand Still well that it does not last. How boredom, that insuportvel weight of if loading, would be a life of a thousand years! Seventy years it is the time of our life. if some, for its robustness, arrive at the eighty, optimum of them of these years she is canseira and boredom It says the salmista (Salmo 90).

In Return To The Start

Jul 16
Posted by jose Filed in News

IN RETURN the START 01-12-2011 Today, I attended a program in the TV, in which the subject was the forms to prevent the cancer. The presenters spoke on high the temperature where the foods are prepared and that they finish eliminating the majority nutrient them and necessary vitamins to our health. I remembered then, with homesicknesses, of the stove to the firewood of my mother, always lighted. We took care of not to forget to full the kettle of iron, to have hot water kills for it. Before initiating its daily tasks, my mother placed on the stove its pans of iron, with the meat, the beans and aipim, for being the foods more delayed to cook, and left them, in fire brando, to go cooking to the few, in amenas, healthful temperatures. Of time in when fire placed plus a firewood wood it not to erase.

Seguidamente it was with the dirty fingers of the coal of the firewood or its hair smelling to smoke, but that food had a very special flavor, the flavor of the patience, the lack of haste, flavor of mother affection. But as to conciliate a stove to the firewood with the speed of an Internet of 15 mega? I smell it of smoke in the hair and the dirty nails of coal, with the good appearance that charges in them in the work? A food that delays three hours to be prepared in a stove to the firewood, with the half hour of recess that we have to lunch? One comidinha with taste of the colony with the preference of our children for fast-food? When our mother made a cake, beaten by hand, went placing pitada of affection in each return that the spoon gave in the basin. It left a little of its energy in the foods that prepared. Today we eat cakes made by machines, beaten for strangers, of certain the energy found in the cake the metal is so cold how much beat that it, and its flavor it has taste of strange people, nothing to see with mother affection. those vegetables fresquinhas, harvested in horta with the vital energy of the land? Without agrotxicos, being days stops in the shelves of the supermarket. milk quentinho, just taken off of the foam cow, full, taken in the cup with a little of sugar and cinnamon? Today some children find that the cow is the petty cash where milk comes packed.

She is, the search for the progress took in them until the moon. I believe that now the search for health and balance in the light one in return to the start, the good and old stove to the firewood, where all the family seated around to be heated and to talk, the parents or the brothers oldest went counting histories, while they taught new, lies of principles, good ways, moral union, values, respect and many other things that already nor we remember more. If you lived this experience, with certainty you feel homesicknesses. What such to return to the start? He will be that still we can?