The Most Beautiful Stones

 The Most Beautiful Stones .....

 The most beautiful stones have been tossed by 
the wind and washed by the waters and 
polished to brilliance by life's strongest storms. 

There is a whole lot of day to day
BS in our lives we must keep telling ourselves this message.
❤️ I AM BEAUTIFUL ❤️ 

This is watercolor art I painted, and the wording added 
in a graphics program. 

PLEASE feel free to copy and share.... 
I just know someone needs to be uplifted by this message. 
With LOVE 
Debra A. Estep

 

 

Watercolor by Debra A. Estep

 I have been artistic since I could hold a crayon.  :)
Watercolor has always been my favorite, but other mediums too. 

Some see a weed I see MANY wishes . . .   *

“The world calls them its singers and poets and artists and storytellers; but they are just people who have ~never~ forgotten the way to fairyland.”

―   L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables 

 

 

The Day of the Dead — Día de los Muertos

 The Day of the Dead — Día de los Muertos

 Sat, Nov 1, 2025 – Sun, Nov 2, 2025

The Day of the Dead — Día de los Muertos — is not a time of mourning, but of remembrance that glows like candlelight in the dark. It is a moment when the air itself seems to shimmer between worlds, when the scent of marigolds drifts through the night like a whisper from those who came before us.

On this day, families gather not to weep, but to welcome. They lay out photographs, favorite foods, and small treasures upon altars, as if setting a table for love itself. Pan de muerto, sugar skulls, and flickering candles become offerings that say, You are gone, but you are never forgotten.

Children laugh among the graves, chasing the same wind that rustles through paper banners cut with delicate skeletons. Their joy is not disrespect — it is remembrance made radiant. It says that death, though solemn, is not an ending but a continuation — another step in the eternal circle that binds us.

The living speak the names of the dead aloud, because in doing so, they keep them alive. Every story told, every melody played, every tear shed with a smile — these are bridges across time.

And when the night deepens and the candles burn low, there is a feeling — soft, undeniable — that someone stands beside you. A hand on your shoulder. A familiar laugh in the wind. For just a moment, the veil is thin, and love crosses over.

That is the gift of Día de los Muertos: the reminder that love does not die. It only changes form, waiting patiently for us to remember.