" Lord Jesus Christ, by your death on the cross, you triumphed over sin and death.
Raise our fallen world to the glory no human wisdom can expect,
who live and reign with the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
God, for ever and ever. Amen."
- from Magnificat, September, 2025
Well, everyone's stunned by the sudden death of Charlie Kirk, assassinated by a sniper with a high-powered rifle. He must have been hired by someone - surely those with such a skill are known to the kind of people who want to force revolution on the world, who want to sidestep the order of the constitutional process.
They are cowards, and they do not love their fellow beings. Gavin Ashenden has a lovely youtube meditation with his thoughts. It's just under ten minutes.
We're back to dry, cooler days after two or three of warm and humid; there was plenty of rain, too, including a thunderstorm Saturday. We needed it.
It occurred to me that if I'm having a hard time getting a sweater going on the knitting needles because my cast-ons are a bit tight, I should just cast onto a larger needle - I believe I used to know that. I'm gearing myself up to knit the Ranunculus sweater: I've got yarn - which I've had for years and should really do something with - but can't seem to get going. We'll see. Sometimes at the beginning of a project, I feel I'm all thumbs.
Now that it's cooler I'm letting myself use the oven more. And I suddenly remembered I can actually make the dough and bake one or two dozen, chill the rest and hardly heat up the kitchen at all! This is the kind of thing I've limited myself to all summer - not baking anything that takes more than half an hour. It's worked out well with fish or muffins, but why didn't I think of cookies? I tend to see them as a drawn-out business, having to bake tray after tray, find a place for them to cool away from cats, get something to store them in, etc. It's kind of the way I like to do everything - chipping away at it, a little at a time, here and there. And it's just a good idea to have some dessert-y thing around.
As Gretchen has mentioned, some Christians celebrated the birthday of the Virgin Mary today.
I came across this somewhere and wrote it down. I just found it again today.
"Do not rush after the planned work. Trust that the time to finish it will be given sometime, and keep a quiet heart about it."
For the wonders that astound us,
for the truths that still confound us,
most of all that love has found us,
thanks be to God.
- words by Fred Pratt Green
That was Coleridge. And oh, a day of cool air, breezing in my window, puffy clouds all over the sky! But I didn't move fast enough to record them before they drifted away.
I heard some birds fussing in the distance. This always makes me feel bad; maybe there was a hawk around. Oh, for a world where there is none of that! Of course, the blue jays would have to find something else to occupy themselves. They are the ambulance-chasers of the bird world - well, everybody has their place. Poirot always was glad to talk to the busy-bodies of the neighborhood - they often proved helpful.
I grew nasturtium seeds, even though it's getting late. It's such a pretty plant.
I just heard a sound behind me, and there was Annie on my back window with a claw caught in the curtain. She was trying to get unhooked and couldn't, but did she say anything? How long would she have sat there, twisting slowly, slowly in the wind (so to speak)? Daisy is the same way.
Strange. They do seem to understand the power of communication. Daisy often is telling us she wants food. Annie was really chatty the other day, telling me something. But they haven't made the connection entirely, I guess, especially when they could really use some help! Dolly would have called out, and she did, more than once.
Well, September is at the door, and I'm looking over my fall clothes. This skirt needs reworking.
It's just not right. I cut off the waistband and picked out the zipper here. I'll sew up that seam where the zip was, turn over the top edge and make a casing for some lightweight elastic. Then I'll see how much I need to take it up - it's too long.
I've been reading The Jungle Book - it's so charming! This is what the library copy looks like.
You know my resting and my rising.
You discern my purpose from afar,
And with love everlasting you besiege me:
In ev'ry moment of life or death, you are.
Before a word is on my tongue, Lord,
You have known its meaning through and through.
You are with me beyond my understanding:
God of my present, my past and future, too.
Although your spirit is upon me,
Still I search for shelter from your light.
There is nowhere on earth I can escape you:
Even the darkness is radiant in your sight.
For you created me and shaped me,
Gave me life within my mother's womb.
I was listening to a podcast the other day, with Huw Richards and a fellow named Patrick Holden - fascinating, by the way - anyhow, they mentioned the name John Seymour, as a pioneer of self-sufficiency and re-learning some of the lost skills. I found we have three of his books at the library! From one of them:
All I can say is - we are a pitiful lot compared to those before us who could use a termite nest to bake bread in!
Oh my goodness, the perfect day. And in August, of all things! It's been a summer of so many hot, hot days, and so much humidity. Today was wonderful, and I only got warm after dinner, because I had a quiche in the oven for an hour. Otherwise, under eighty, a gentle breeze, sunshine. Ahhh. A day like this goes a long way toward making one forget about the awful stuff.
And I realized how inadequate my summer wardrobe is, for days off, I mean. So I ordered three lengths of quilting cotton on sale, in order to make three of my favorite sleeveless a-line shifts. The first is black, with sunflowers all over it.
I cut it short, so after I bind the armholes I'll decide about a ruffle or something else to lengthen it. The checked dress is on hold for the moment.
I cut some chives to dry the other day: I just snip them into short pieces and lay them on a tray in an out of the way place. I do like to do a bit of this and a bit of that, rather than spending all day on a thing.
Yesterday was hot, so I cooked up some chicken tenders with a piccata type sauce. For veg, I steamed some beans and then cooled them in the freezer. They were served with cut-up tomatoes and salt, oregano and olive oil. That's how we've been living - cooking things that don't require a long heating.
Daisy, holding down the pattern pieces for me. Such a little helper! I am making very slow progress on this dress, basically just figuring what style to make. I keep changing my mind. I cut out the bodice, but I'm going to take in the sides - it's too loose, so I've been measuring it against a couple of favorite dresses. You want to make something that you're happy wearing!
I finished reading Slow Medicine today, by Victoria Sweet.
She also wrote God's Hotel and I recommend them both, if you have any interest in the way doctors used to do things, the influence that government regulation has had on the healthcare system, or even how things were before it was called "health care", which, by the time you finish the book, will seem like the wrong thing to call it.
It's been hot again this week, and today the worst: not in heat, but in humidity - just awful.We're still getting lots of tomatoes, a pepper now and again, and today I snipped a big sprig of basil, keeping only the perfect leaves after removing them from the stems, and then packed them in a container, for the freezer.
I did plan to wash the floor, but I didn't.
"Over the years that Victoria Sweet has been a physician, 'healthcare' has replaced medicine, 'providers' look at their laptops more than at their patients, and costs keep soaring, all in the ruthless pursuit of efficiency. Yet the remedy that economists and policy makers continue to miss is also miraculously simple. Good medicine takes more than amazing technology; it takes time - time to respond to bodies as well as data, time to arrive at the right diagnosis and the right treatment."
from the front flap of "Slow Medicine"
But don't get the idea that she is a sourpuss. She's a wonderful writer.
“A key spiritual principle is that grace is sheer gift. And when you cling to a gift, hoarding it for yourself, you undermine its nature as gift. The whole point of receiving the divine life is to give it away in turn. If you hoard and make it your private prerogative, you undermine it; it turns to ashes. But when you give it away, it is renewed within you.”
- Bishop Robert Barron
Such a beautiful day! The haze from fires in Canada has been enough to make your eyes burn, but not today! Dry air and a breeze.
Our plants are giving us so many tomatoes - I don't mind eating them. I did cook some down last week, but they're very juicy and not really suitable for sauce - too watery. Try this: cut up a few fresh tomatoes from the garden. Add a splash of water, some olive oil, lots of oregano and plenty of salt - probably more than is good for you. It's the oregano, it makes it all kind of vinegary. You may add some onion powder, if you wish.
I have four yards of a cotton check fabric, and am trying to decide on a pattern, looking at pinterest photos and dresses online. I keep changing my mind; meanwhile, the summer is moving along.
In Magnificat this morning I read, in 258, St. Cyprian wrote that the Roman emperor Valerian issued an edict to the Senate. Bishops, presbyters and deacons were to suffer the death penalty without delay. One of the first to be apprehended was Pope Sixtus II and four of his deacons as he said Mass along the Appian Way. All were beheaded.
"Let all people fix their minds not on death but rather on immortality; let them commit themselves to the Lord in complete faith with joy rather than in fear, knowing that in this contest the soldiers of God and Christ are not slain but rather win their crowns."
- St. Cyprian
Last week an old gentleman came into the library; he was looking for another book by a favorite author. I told him where to find it, but when he didn't come right back, I went over. It was in the wrong place, but not far off (thankfully), but he lamented his inability to locate it, telling me he was eighty nine years old.
This often happens to patrons: they can't find their book, and we go over and there it is. It has nothing to do with their age. But on his way out, I heard him say something aloud, but to himself, in Latin, and I wrote down what I heard, knowing that Google would most likely fill in the blanks for me. What he had said was, "Sic transit gloria mundi"; "Thus passes the glory of the world."
What he was really talking about was his own "glory," his youth and supposed ability to find library books!
Today, a frequent patron was called by one of our staff about an overdue, and she insisted she'd returned it. I went over to where it should have been, and didn't see it. Two more of us looked, but we didn't find it. After puzzling over it, a fourth staff member went over and there it was - where it was supposed to be.
This last employee is the youngest of us, at - well, I think he's nineteen. I told him his brain is young and fresh. Meanwhile, like this old fellow, I can also say, "Sic transit gloria mundi."
"So, go forth, O generous apostles of Jesus Christ, go wherever he calls you. I know you will run into great labors, serious difficulties, many tribulations, never-ending struggles and sacrifices. But fear not: the cross accompanies you, the cross which is the memorial of past victories, pledge of future ones. .. The cross is the protection of the meek, the humiliation of the proud, the victory of Christ, the defeat of hell, the death of infidelity, the life of the just, the fulness of all virtues. The cross is the hope of Christians, the resurrection of the dead, the consolation of the poor, the wood of eternal life, the power of God...."
- Blessed John Baptist Scalabrini
- Gladys Taber
We went on a little field trip to the cathedral in the city, a pilgrimage.
Margary, whom she had last seen white and fear-stricken, had color in her cheeks now and her eyes shone...Winkle's face, puce with rage a short time ago, had now resumed its normal rosiness and it was obvious that if Winkle had ever had a care she had forgotten it....Such things had no existence here..The children ate their biscuits and drank their milk, and the stormcock sang, and Mary thought, "I will remember about this rainbow place. When my own particular experience seems dark and hard I'll remember that it's really a shining thing holding like a flower to the branches of the tree, and that I travel in it, like Cinderella in her coach, to the ending of the days. And up above me in the tree the Seraph sings, and sometimes he sings peace for us and sometimes courage, praise, truth, love, death, but he is always the same Seraph. Who is he? On Mount Alverno Saint Francis saw a great crucified Seraph above him, filling the heavens. I'll remember."
- Elizabeth Goudge, The Rosemary Tree
*words by Horatio Bonar, the melody is an old English one, adapted by Ralph Vaughan Williams
Summer is moving along too fast. I've worked extra a number of times; the heat has kept me in more than I would like - I think, after today, we'll have a break in the hot and humid weather. We haven't even opened the windows the past two nights, but it looks like the upcoming evening temperatures will be down in the sixties - I feel cooler just thinking of it!
There are a few youtube sewing channels I like to follow - these women like to sew all their clothes and they seem to whiz along, so even though I don't, watching them is motivating. My blue linen top just needs the hem binding, and will be done. I realized I've got a lot of blue in my summer wardrobe all of a sudden - oh, well. I think navy suits me pretty well.
I bought a new rug for my bedroom; Daisy is often on it. I came home from work yesterday, and she was there. It's wool - can it be she has an appreciation for quality? :D Annie also likes it, but Daisy is with me more often.
* Coleridge, from Reflections on Having Left a Place of Retirement
"It was a spot which you might aptly call the Valley of Seclusion.......it was a Blessed Place."
"When you love those who hate you, you confuse and confound them, taking away the very energy that feeds their hatred.
We want God to behave as we would - that is to say, to withdraw his love from those who don't deserve it and to give his love to those who do deserve it. But this is just not the way God operates.
Why should you pray for someone who is persecuting you? Why shouldn't you be allowed at least to answer him in kind - an eye for an eye? Because God doesn't operate that way, and you are being drawn into the divine life.
Why should you turn the other cheek to someone who has struck you? Because it's practical? No - because that's the way God operates, and you're being called into the divine life.
Why should you go beyond simply loving those who love you? Because that's the way God operates; he loves the saints and he loves the worst of sinners.
Is any of this easy to do? No, of course not. Are we able to get to this state through willing it, through earnest practice? Of course not. That's why love is referred to as a theological virtue. It is the sheerest participation in the divine life, and it can only come from God. But God does offer this gift to us when we ask for it in prayer."
- Bishop Robert Barron
A rabbit got into the garden last week. He didn't seem to eat anything we would regret. They seem to find so much among the grass, God bless them. A simple diet is best, isn't it? Then I didn't see any rabbits for a week, until today when there were two baby ones, running around the hedges. So, it continues.
Look what somebody dropped off at the library this week.
I love this story. Look at the cover!
So elegant, with the gold edging. But there's a fragrance, like the previous owner wore perfume and now the book has it. I might just bring it back - I don't fancy having to smell that whenever I read it. Such a disappointment.
I was reading in St. Matthew's gospel, near the beginning, and it said that after the Magi came and asked where the child was who was born king of the Jews, "he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him". I never noticed that before - all Jerusalem was frightened? How interesting.
I picked a handful of beans today and steamed them; my brother can have them with his eggs tomorrow for supper.
With all the mentions I've made of Raynor Winn's The Salt Path over the past few years, I feel it incumbent upon me to make this post.
I was on youtube yesterday when a little video popped up. This one. A reporter at The Observer dug deep and found out that the Winns' real names are Sally and Tim Walker They are basically embezzlers and tax evaders, for a start. Three books were written, to acclaim, and now the film is out; I've been waiting for it to show over here. Now, I don't think I can bring myself. The full article - very thorough and interesting - is here.
I really am stunned. Of course we know these things go on. But it was a great story, and so hopeful, the way Moth seemed to get better after these long hikes they went on. They're not even sure now about the truth of his illness, and that whole part of it.
What really amazes me is that she has done so many interviews, her face has been everywhere, for those who've been following their story, and didn't she think that someday they'd be found out? That nobody they've ever known would be watching the news? What will happen now? You can run, but you can't hide forever, and especially not when you're famous. Incredible.
About "journalism". This reporter, Chloe Hadjimatheou, did a stellar job. But there is altogether too much of this:
But I do agree with them on one point: They are extremely dangerous to our democracy.
I had just shut off the a/c, opened my side window, and was watching the pretty sparkle of the fireflies, when someone on the street behind us set off quite a colorful display of fireworks. So much for the quiet beauty of nature.
Daisy is in my back window, watching fireworks set off by another neighbor - it looks like a big sparkler, or something. Annie is on the hallway chair, which is brave for her; she isn't hiding. Our town event is scheduled for Tuesday, so this sort of nightly show may happen again. For the first time in days, I don't hear the mockingbird. Well, the creatures don't know what to make of the loud noises and I feel sorry for them.
I don't know where I've been - mentally - for the past week. I always mean to post, but something gets in the way. I am making a linen top: sleeveless and simple, and I've been researching various ways of cutting bias strips. There are many, and it's interesting! I have to bind the neck and armholes and didn't want to use the packaged stuff.
I've been experimenting with strawberry frozen yogurt, and frozen coconut milk pops, coffee-flavored. Something cold for the mouth must be kept on hand at all times in summer heat!
It’s not quite seventy degrees today. And by that, what I really mean is, it’s thirty degrees cooler than it was yesterday.
I finished my firefly dress; I was going to wear it tomorrow to work - now I hesitate. Is seventy one degrees too cool for sleeveless? Probably, especially after such a cool, damp day.
I had such a time getting the armhole binding to flatten out.
Wetting it, then pressing, over and over, to gently stretch the fabric. Patience and persistence were what I needed.
Last night's sunset -
I actually had to close my windows tonight - it's cool, and damp, which makes it feel colder.
