This evening my brother was mowing the lawn before dark and he came in to tell me he'd found a baby - that is, a baby with the eyes still closed - squirrel, no others around. Our neighbor has taken it in, but we're looking up what to do now.
Since I noticed our neighbor's apple in bloom, I've been looking intently for the appearance of an oriole, without success. But, this morning I did see one in the other neighbor's crabapple tree; you have to look carefully, because they don't perch on your porch railing or land in the grass, that I've ever noticed. But they do like the tree blossoms and they like to go up high. You will suddenly see a flash of orange amid the blooms. And then they fly.
A very windy day last week left a bright flower in the back yard, and it took me a minute to realize it was just a cherry blossom from the front yard. Now it's in the kitchen.
I finally saw a rabbit today; I've been looking. The little chickadee still flutters over my brother's car when he's home, and I've seen a sparrow hang around the nest and even go in twice, but coming out right away. I don't like it.
I've been continuing the plan of cooking the same meals every week for the whole month. It's a good way to hone a promising recipe, perhaps finding ways to make it more cheaply, or improving it in some way. I like it - less menu planning, anyway.
Poor Dolly's allergies are terrible right now. She's always had them, some years worse than others. Her eyes stream and she ends up looking like Alice Cooper. No photos! I will not photograph Dolly unless she's looking her beautiful self. She's eighteen now, by the way.
Someone is coming Thursday to look at the tree stumps and remove them. And we're still thinking about what kind of trees we want to replace them. Another cherry, for sure, and something else. Nothing slow-growing, or too tall.
I picked up a book about education in our state during the Revolutionary War, from 1763 to 1800.
"Parents and relatives, school and church, town and state shared the responsibility for guaranteeing the piety and morality of the next generation...The colonists themselves recognized that the Revolution occurred only because the commonality could read and write. The Patriots, believing education determined the character of a people, recognized the crucial but indirect importance of morality in creating and sustaining the Revolution....Americans were thankful that they could perceive the difference between creeping authoritarianism and necessary order. Eighteenth century man believed that anarchy in the state would lead to chaos in church and family. Parents, ministers, and magistrates should cooperate in instilling the right mixture of assertion and deference in each citizen. Education was the method by which a society could preserve what was most essential School, church, and family worked together to inculcate correct attitudes towards God and country."
- by J. William Frost
I'm reading Bandersnatch, about the Inklings. They made a point to not skimp on praise where it was due, which struck me as awfully nice.
"Resonators* offer their support in a number of different ways, and the most obvious one is praise. [C.S.] Lewis firmly believed praise should be part of daily life. He asserts: 'The world rings with praise - lovers praising their mistresses, readers their favourite poet, walker praising the countryside, players praising their favourite game - praise of weather, wines, dishes, actors, motors, horses, colleges, countries, historical personages, children, flowers, mountains, rare stamps, rare beetles, even sometimes politicians or scholars.'"
*"What is a resonator? The term describes anyone who acts as a friendly, interested, supportive audience."
- from Bandersnatch, by Diana Pavlac Glyer
"What Rome was capable of, the achievement of her empire shows. The Roman character had great qualities, great potential strength. If the people had held together, realizing their interdependence and working for a common good, their problems, completely strange and enormously difficult though they were, would not, it may well be believed, have proved too much for them. But they were split into sharpest oppositions, extremes that ever grew more extreme and so more irresponsible. A narrow selfishness kept men blind when their own self-preservation demanded a world-wide outlook.
History repeats itself. The fact is a testimony to human stupidity. The saying has become a truism; nevertheless, the study of the past is relegated to the scholar and the school-boy. And yet it is really a chart for our guidance - no less than that. Where we now are going astray and losing ourselves, other men once did the same, and they left a record of the blind alleys they went down. We are like youth that can never learn from age - but youth is young, and wisdom is for the mature. We that are grown should not find it impossible to learn from the ages-old recorded experience of the past."
- Edith Hamilton, The Roman Way
The maple right there, right before you get to the bridge - well, take a good look. It isn't there now.
The infamous October snowstorm from nine and a half years ago caused this dear tree to lean toward the house, and another one on the side near the fence had damaged limbs up high. We thought it would be safer to take them down.
This is the tree Dolly and I sit under every summer, with our quilt and music and books and magazines - well, my stuff, but she enjoys the quilt and the music. No more, Dolly.
There is a tree out there the clothesline is attached to, so we do have some backyard shade. And we're wanting to put another two or three trees back there as soon as the stumps get removed. Maybe another ornamental cherry, Japanese maple - nothing too tall.
It was quite something to watch these fellows; they were here seven or eight hours, and it's such hard work. Worth the amount we paid them. And it was arranged that they'd drive the logs up the road to a neighbor who can use them, so that was very tidy.
At the end as they were leaving, a sun shower arrived. Immediately, I started looking for the rainbow.
It was faint, though not as faint as it looks here. But it was heartening to see a rainbow, and now there's nothing to block the view.
That Eastertide with joy was bright,
The sun shone out with fairer light,
When, to their longing eyes restored,
The glad Apostles saw their Lord.
He bade them see his hands, his side,
Where yet the glorious wounds abide;
The tokens true which made it plain
Their Lord indeed was risen again.
Jesus, the King of gentleness,
Do thou thyself our hearts possess
That we may give thee all our days
The tribute of our grateful praise.
O Lord of all, with us abide
In this our joyful Eastertide;
From every weapon death can wield
Thine own redeemed forever shield.
A young woodchuck came quite near the house the other day, seeing something tasty to eat, I guess. Here he is, heading for the house. I've never seen one that close.
This book about the Romans is way more interesting than I expected it to be. The present chapter is on Horace. The author says it is impossible to accurately translate his poetry*; she does quote some of his prose, however. "I can do nothing about what fate sends me, but I can do everything about the way I take what is sent. I can so order my own spirit that no matter how outrageous fortune is I can keep my balance within unmoved. Do you know, friend, what I feel, for what I pray? Not to waver to and fro, hanging upon the hope of the dubious hour. God may give this or that - life - wealth. I will my own self make my spirit undisturbed."
- The Roman Way, by Edith Hamilton
*Her reason is not that his poetry cannot really be translated, but that with him, it's the way he says things, the words he so carefully chooses that make him unique. So a translation would fail to show that.
How the time goes by - over a week since I've been here! I never mean to stay away so long.
Easter was lovely, of course. It just is. But note to self: next time you cook a rich piece of meat (lamb), it's better to avoid other potentially rich sides (Ina's roasted asparagus with melted parmesan), or desserts (cheesecake). It wasn't bad and nobody complained, but I did have the thought. It might be helpful to write these things on a notecard for the recipe box.
I was emptying my wastebasket and saw these stamps in there - ahhhh!
While I'm typing this, Dolly is behind me on my bed, with the radio - of course - and the jazz program on - of course. And they're playing a couple of things by Paul Desmond. Which reminds me of a touching story I came across very recently about him from The New Yorker. Read it - it's very short but very sweet.
I took this week off, and am making great progress with the mending pile.
I also pruned the roses today, quite late; they had quite a few small leaves on them already. Well, this will set them back a bit but it can't be helped.
Lord Jesus Christ, you are the gardener and we the soil:
Let the seed of Easter life bear fruit in us for your eternal harvest.
A Happy Easter!
The grass is entirely green now, and all it takes is a warm day. It had begun to turn a couple of weeks back with those two days of warmth, and then stopped the greening when it cooled down. This week was enough to finish it - it makes such a difference, to see green grass all around! And the maples have their red buds all over them.
And Easter is coming.
I heard a question on the radio the other day - they wanted to know if anyone could guess which president said this: "The nine most terrifying words in the English language are, 'I'm from the government and I'm here to help.'" I said to myself, that sounds like something Reagan would say, and I was right. Good old Ronnie. Life was simpler then.
I thought I would've had some seeds started inside by now, but you can only do so many things in one day, and Sweetie's condition has been occupying my mind a lot this week; she took a turn for the worse over last weekend and can't seem to eat by herself anymore. So, we fish her out of whatever corner she's hiding herself and squirt some thinned-out soft food in her mouth a few times a day. She can still drink from the water bowl on her own. The vet's coming on Monday, and I hope she can help us figure out a way to clean her - she doesn't groom herself and she is dirty and smelly, poor mite. But she's so hostile to any kind of messing with her little person - she really is the most difficult cat I've ever dealt with. But I feel sorry, and I think she understands we're trying to help her when we disturb her so often. If she can be sedated so she can be bathed that would be great; it's a terrible situation but today she came out from hiding for a bit and scratched on a cardboard scratching thing. The reason she hides is not because of her illness, but because she does not like being bothered so often by us - this I know. The vet ordered a pain med for her which should arrive soon. We'll see. She still enjoys hearing the chant CDs I play every day.
The reading challenge I'm taking part in requires a book written in ancient Greece or Roman times, or one about those times, or even just a novel taking place during those times. I looked around the library and settled on The Roman Way by Edith Hamilton, published in 1932. So interesting! What Charlotte Mason would call a living book, I think, which means non-fiction written in a narrative style. I have never been attracted to those cultures very much - I prefer the middle ages. Still, a chapter from this morning's reading was about Cicero, and apparently we have eight hundred of his letters.
"Cleopatra. How I detest the woman. You know she lived just across the river from me for several months." (maybe she snubbed him!) He says that Brutus was charging forty eight percent interest on money he's paid to the people of Salamis! It's becoming more appealing to me - I guess I'm warming up to it. Lots of gossipy stuff.
I could have worn a sleeveless shift today. It was well over seventy and it's still warm - sixty. After chopping the soup vegetables early in the day, I never made the soup. Who need it on a warm day? It's not unheard of in March - very warm temperatures like this happen every, oh, every ten years or so. I always hope for it.
It was also the Annunciation of the Lord.
The Just One has descended like dew from above; the earth has opened and the Savior has sprung up.
- Isaiah 45:8
Some more earthly things are springing up - a friend pointed out a crocus in our front lawn, and a little cluster in the bed where I'd planted some a few years ago.
A delight.
Dolly gets so fretful, wanting food All the Time, but then you give it, and she wanders away, seemingly inviting you to bring the dish to the new location. But then maybe she still doesn't eat it, and what you realize (but why should it take so long, when you know she's a music lover) is that she really wants to Hear something. So you put the radio on, right next to her (if you don't, she moves closer to it anyway) and it's quite obvious she's really listening.
This was Kenny Rogers singing The Gambler. She just likes music, even Kenny Rogers. I didn't care for it, but the classical program was over and the jazz one hadn't begun yet. And I wanted the ipad myself for a change, so I couldn't stream anything for her. She got quiet and settled down immediately, poor little thing. She just wanted the comfort of the sounds, I guess. And maybe she has a little Spring Fever.
This thing is almost done; it may serve as a cat mat. We will see. Meanwhile, I'm trying to do my state income taxes, and the mending pile gets higher.
We had a baptism during Mass today - a wee little one, born not more than two months ago, probably less. He was quiet throughout, except he did cry from the (cold, I presume) water. It was good to be a witness to it, to hear the prayers for the parents and be reminded by Father to pray for him.
I saw this on Instagram - a quote from Johann Sebastian Bach, whose birthday anniversary it is today: "Without my morning coffee I'm just like a dried up piece of roasted goat." Well! One tends to think of these people as superhuman, but - I guess not.
I washed another of my woolly turtlenecks today - there's another warm-up coming and I can't imagine it's going to get much below forty again during the day.
When I wash something like that by hand, I use the right-hand sink in the kitchen. Afterward I kept seeing patches of water on the floor, which I supposed I'd dripped as I carried it to the table to wrap in a towel, but I'd wipe them up and more would appear. I was beginning to wonder about my sanity and then we discovered a leak under the sink. Not very welcome news, but my sanity is intact for the time being.
For Lent, I've brought out all my religious CDs, many of which are Gregorian chant type things - it can be monotonous to play them all day, but I know that it's prayer which is very suitable for this season. Then I stumbled on a youtube video of an exorcist (Fr. Chad Ripperger) who said that demons really can't stand the chant. The exorcists can often play the music and the demons will leave the afflicted person without an exorcism having to be performed. This made me appreciate hearing it even more; funny, though - it doesn't deter the Orphan from pestering Sweetie! I'm not sure what to make of that.
I couldn't stand to make another meatloaf today, so we had fish.There was plenty of Thousand Island dressing left from the Reuben sandwiches, and I like to use these fancy dressings to spread on the cod when I bake it, so that's what we had, and it surprised me how delicious it was. We can have meatloaf tomorrow.
I heard this poem the other day and even though our March is nothing like this, I can pretend -
Written in March
The cock is crowing,*
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter
The green field sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!
Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The plow-boy is whooping - anon-anon:
There's joy in the mountains;
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone!
- Wm. Wordsworth
*Actually, this morning Dolly was on my bed and I thought I kept hearing her cry, but wasn't sure. Finally, I realized it was the rooster who, with the chickens, was pecking around outside the back door.
This is what I came home to -
which of course reminded me of a crime scene. But she revived after a little, and seems to be her usual self. And there was no blood, for a change.
Money laundering: a dime went through the wash. That reminds me of a joke an older gentleman told me last week at the library - How does an angel light a candle? *
Easter is two weeks away.
"Hold fast to your duty, busy yourself with it, grow old while doing your task. Admire not how sinners live, but trust in the Lord and wait for his light; God's blessing is the lot of the just man, and in due time his hopes bear fruit."
- Sirach 11: 20-21a, 22
* with a match made in Heaven!
I wore sandals to work yesterday - with bare feet! Today it's back to the forties, but that's not bad. And we have the memory of two days sixty five to seventy degrees.
Our Lenten meal plan has been interesting; after three weeks of meatloaf on Saturday, I made meatballs today, and spaghetti. That was a little better. As for the Monday eggs, I am getting sick of that. I often feel a little queasy after having eggs, so I'm trying to make them with more vegetables. But shopping is easier, since there's not any meal planning to speak of.
I keep meaning to say something about Sweetie, but there's a lot to say; she's still around, two months after the doctor said she would be. I'll have to come back to this subject. But she's not much worse, as far as we can tell.
I'm working on St. Patrick's Day, and don't want to cook the traditional dinner on a different day, so I'm planning on Reuben sandwiches.
It's ten o'clock, and fifty four degrees out - if my hair wasn't wet I'd still have my window open. But it's tempting to keep it open tonight, on March 11th for heaven's sake. Today was almost balmy, well into the sixties. Delightful! I felt I should do something outside, so I picked up some sticks, then wandered to the garden and pulled up dried zinnia stalks.
Dolly has another UTI, and more bloody than the last, in case you wanted to know that. My brother happened to have time to come home when a client overslept yesterday and missed his appointment. The vet just happened to be free, so he dropped her off for observation and got her again at his lunch time a few hours later. They were looking to see if anything is wrong, but it's just another UTI, it seems. She got some blood on my quilt so I put it in the wash, and then she came back and got it on my other quilt. I was still finding spots on the floor this morning, but the Clavamox works wonders and she's feeling much better already. Everyone says UTI's are common with diabetes; I hate to think she's going to live the rest of her life on antibiotics every few weeks.
Meanwhile, while typing this, wild sounds of The Orphan speeding around the living room, crashing into things, reach my ears. She's happy.
I've got a library book called Soldier of the American Revolution - it's got lots of photos. This part really surprised me:
"During the Revolution, American soldiers were the most literate soldiers in the world. At the beginning of the war, the army was almost entirely recruited in New England, where approximately 80 percent of adults could read as compared to less than 40 percent in England. The unusual practice of teaching reading to boys and girls from every level of society probably found its origins in Puritanism that promoted individual Bible study. "
I am amazed. It goes on to say "Reading and writing were taught separately, the former often without the latter. Of the people that could read printed material, only a small percentage could write and read cursive text. These were typically wealthy landowners, merchants, clerks, clergymen, or others whose occupations required correspondence or record keeping. An important part of penmanship consisted in mastering the art of carving goose or turkey quills."
Interesting; they could read but not necessarily write.
Dolly is doing so extremely well - she is more active than she's been in years. I guess it's the insulin, and now her UTI is gone - she's feeling good! Yesterday her blood glucose levels were checked and were surprisingly low, so we'll be giving her the shot only once per day till next Monday, when they will be checked again. Right now she's behind me, on my bed. With the jazz program on the radio, naturally.
March is coming in like a lion, it seems. The wind was fiercely blowing last night and today and below freezing all day. But it really feels like spring at times. Something about the light and the brightness.
I was typing a comment on Clare's blog when the cursor disappeared. I left the laptop in disgust and came back much later - it was still nowhere to be seen. I had to cut it off; I never got back there. I know I need a new computer - I just have to make a decision.
I am really liking my Lenten dinner plan, which is something I've done in past years (but not always): the same thing every week. On Mondays, soup and eggs. Thursdays, minestrone and BTLs. Saturday, meatloaf. Sundays, chicken most often, but maybe fish. The other days we have leftovers. Mondays seem the easiest: I make such a large pot of minestrone on Thursdays, that we have it again on Friday and there's still some left for Monday - I don't have to make soup Mondays, so far! It occurred to me that making a recipe every week can help to hone one's technique, which sounds like an excellent thing. Meatloaf, for example - I've made the same recipe for many years, but am trying another for Lent. If I keep making it, I can work out any quirks or things I don't care for; if I make it only occasionally, I don't think I'd be able to do that. So, I may continue this sort of thing after Lent; it's certainly easier than coming up with a new menu every week. We will see.
I tend to think of Lent as a desert place. So, it was helpful to see this as today's meditation in Magnificat:
"It is in the desert, then, that salvation is first restored to humankind - there where are no rich foods, where there are no pleasures....In paradise the devil contends with Adam, and in the desert the devil struggles with Christ....The very body of the Christian is in a sense a desert when it is not filled with food and cheered with drink...Then Christ the Lord inhabits the desert of our body - when he has found that our land is desolate because of hunger and parched because of thirst."
- St. Maximus of Turin
And in his homily this morning, Father also spoke of the desert, saying it's "where you can take no joy in anything." And "where you feel the ground is collapsing under our feet." The desert can be a scary place.
It began snowing yesterday, around twelve noon, right when they said it would. But they also said it would stop at seven tonight. It's eight thirty-nine. Still snowing.
It's very gentle, a quiet, gentle snowfall. And beautiful - I kept looking outside, at the same view as always, which I never tire of.
Looks like a lot, doesn't it? But there was already some on the ground. A day and a half of almost constant snowing, and all we got was three inches, maybe four.
The Snow Arrives After Long Silence
The snow arrives after long silence
from it's high home where nothing leaves
tracks or strains or keeps time.
The sky it fell from, pale as oatmeal,
bears up like sheep before shearing.
The cat at my window watches
amazed. So many feathers and no bird!
All day the snow sets its table
with clean linen, putting its house
in order. The hungry deer walk
on the risen loaves of snow.
You can follow the broken hearts
their hooves punch in its crust.
Night after night the big plows rumble
and bale it like dirty laundry.
and haul it to the Hudson.
Now I scan the sky for snow,
and the cool cheek it offers me,
and its body, thinned into petals,
and the still caves where it sleeps.
- Nancy Willard
The ashes this morning didn't consist of a big black cross on my forehead; there's apparently another way of dispensing them - just a sprinkle on the head. And that's what we got this morning.
"Jesus is not the Lord of comfort, security and ease. Following Jesus demands a good dose of courage."
- Pope Francis
Here's something by Sarah Clarkson - she didn't get any ashes today, but she wrote a wonderful poem.
"The world offers you comfort. But you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness."
- Pope Benedict XVI
Dolly is doing much better, no more blood, no more incontinence, no more peeing on the floor. She's using the box and is back to eating like a horse. We were watching Sense and Sensibility together for a while this evening - the dear girl!
Yesterday my brother came home for lunch to find drops of blood here and there around the house; the cats were all in the living room, in their separate places. It was rather alarming, but he figured it was from Sweetie; she sometimes gets bloody saliva from - we suppose - accidentally biting the growth in her mouth.
But, no - this morning I saw that it was Dolly who was dripping blood. We found a veterinary hospital who had time to see her. She's got a UTI - not, thank God, a bowel obstruction or worse as my wild imagination was suggesting. Poor old lady! They said that diabetes and urinary tract infections go hand in hand.
Speaking of diabetes, her three month checkup showed high blood glucose levels, so the drop was only temporary - we are now giving her insulin shots twice a day. It's still in the trial stage, trying to find the right amount for her; I never thought I'd be giving shots to anybody.
The primroses were three for six dollars at the supermarket; I bought a pink one, a white one and a yellow one. Then I had to put away the wintery decorations - it was an absurd juxtaposition.
This morning I noticed that the clock on my little short-wave radio was off. I scrambled through several drawers, looking for AA batteries but didn't find any. I use that radio for my alarm clock. But then I thought I'd try to reset the time - it worked! I'll bet Sweetie probably stepped on it.
So I don't have to worry about getting up on time in the morning.
