Harpij

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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.

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Spring flowers in the local woods

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Het kerkbrugje in ommen

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Looking over the France/spain border

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River to the sun and back

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The perfect morning in Ommen, the Netherlands

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Me and my wife getting married in America at new years day 2020.