wonder and possibility

 "In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's there are few."*

                                                - from Silent Sparks: The Wondrous World of Fireflies, by Sara Lewis

*Shunryu Suzuki

in the bag(s)

 It was time to shred some zucchini - I did sixteen cups!

Well, it was the food processor who did it.

All in little two cup bags in the freezer.

a reminder

 "Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."

                                           - Philippians 4:6-7

Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer,
That calls me from a world of care
And bids me at my Father's throne
Make all my wants and wishes known!

In seasons of distress and grief
My soul has often found relief,
And oft escaped the tempter's snare
By thy return, sweet hour of prayer.

- William W. Walford, from Magnificat, July 2022

dog, not cat days

 My intention in blogging is to say something at least on my days off, but here I am after almost two weeks absent. It seems that every now and then I get immersed in something and blogging just falls by the wayside. 

It's very hot here; there's a heat advisory in effect until tomorrow night at eight, but there is air conditioning. Noisy as ours is, I appreciate it and am sorry for what our British friends went through recently, without much in the way of air conditioning. It will still be hot after eight tomorrow, so I'm not sure how they figure it. These are the dog days of summer. I did a google search for the cat days of summer, but I didn't find anything. 

We found ourselves frequently noticing that the rabbits seemed content to feed on the clover, or whatever it is, in our lawn, but now we've seen a rabbit bolt out of the garden twice. Time will have to tell what they're up to in there. 

We're doing a lot of watering - the side garden, the larger back garden. There are things in pots and assorted containers near the driveway, and then the young trees. My brother tells me he's ordered another tree, a kousa dogwood. I really didn't want one; I'm not sure if I like them. There are several in town and they're so messy-looking. But it's really because no one shapes them properly. They end up like a scraggly bush but they can be made to look like a tree. So we've got a white crabapple, an ornamental cherry, a linden and a purple-leafed plum tree. And the assorted box, and holly. Lots of water needed in this dry season. 

It's one month since Dolly's diagnosis. I look at her and wonder if the cancer is spreading to other organs inside. Outwardly, she doesn't appear any worse. I remember Dr. P. said the average time is 347 days. So that would be minus 30 at this point, if she follows the average. One day at a time. 

A young woman came to the library to get her card updated. I noticed her address - she lives on my street. I don't even know my neighbors! Well, they don't know me, either. It's a modern disease. Meanwhile I read my Gladys Taber book, and feel nostalgia for a community where they all interact meaningfully. 

July magic

 I finished washing the dishes rather late - it was almost dark. Almost, but you could still see shapes of trees and other things. And fireflies were twinkling across the brook. In past years I've watched them out my north window, flashing along the forsythia hedge where the catbirds sleep. Or a little farther off, in front of a big clump of tall things growing there forever, whatever they are. Big weeds. They show up well in front of dark bushes. But this summer they seem to mostly appear out my east window, in the back yard across the brook. This evening I followed them.

The twinkling! It's indescribable. Either you've seen it a thousand times (which means you need to read some fairy tales before it's too late for you), or it doesn't matter how often you see it - magic is still magic. It's always new. 

"borrowed" from the internet

with Thee one

 We sang this hymn at Mass today and it came to me that if an explanation of the goal of the Christian life was wanted, this would do it.

Be Thou My Vision

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise,
Thou mine inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my treasure Thou art.

getting back to sewing

 I'm working on a summery blouse - Butterick 6455. The fabric is a soft, light yellow gauze type, with a stripe design. I bought it on a whim, and wondered for a few years what on earth to do with it. But it seems well suited to a peasant style top. I am making view A, with the ruffle on the sleeves and the hem. 

Wouldn't you know, when I cut out the sleeves, I mis-cut one of them, so I'll have to find a way to adjust. I do this kind of thing often. But I hope it will look well in the end.

soothing

 It was still pretty light out at five to nine. I was about to close a kitchen window, but pushed up the screen instead and stuck my face out into the cool air; it was so pleasant. And I saw a firefly across the brook, visible in the not-quite-dark. I suppose they must fly around during the day. Or do they know their movements take on an enchantment after dark, and save their efforts for the night? 

I am happy to indulge my fancies after a day of struggling over a migraine. After three ineffectual doses of Exedrin, I tried garlic capsules, which I've found helpful for sinus issues. Now I'm almost giddy with relief. 

I bought this hanging plant two months ago. Is it possible the blooms that were on it then, are the ones still on it today? Because I tell you, I have had no blossoms on the front steps, nothing dried up on the plant I have to pick off. I just realized this the other day. A bloom can't last that long, can it? I must be dreaming. But this is an amazing plant, and look how full it is. I only water it. I have no idea what it is. The one I had last summer was also very pretty, but I had to remove the spent flowers; that's to be expected. 

I am back with Gladys Taber for a while, one of her Cape Cod books. It's very soothing to read her. And I picked up a Frances Mayes, about bringing a Tuscan decorating style to your American home. She's also very soothing to read. And I am finally trying the Fairacre series by Miss Read. I've got Miss Clare Remembers. It's very nice, and deeper than I expected. Not as light as the Thrush Green stories. 

All very pleasant to read when one has headaches and sinus problems.

Independence Day

 I came upon a copy of the Declaration of Independence at the thrift store. I bought it, of course! 

My brother said it hasn't got proper margins; the real one's are properly sized. He's been to Washington. I'm okay with this: it's good enough for me. The frame is nice.

It has the right signatures.

our dearest girl

 Last week Dolly's doctor told us she has a tumor on her bladder, most likely cancerous. He gave her a pain med, which is frankly doing wonders - she seems very comfortable with it. But she might not last more than a year.

So she's not immortal, after all.    I'm sure I thought she was.