an exceptional cat

 DOLLY

April 22, 2003  -  August 24, 2022

Memory Eternal, little Queen of Our Hearts

water

 We had rain today. The real thing, and not for just two minutes. 

the family as the root of democracy

 In an article by Madeleine Kearns in National Review magazine, she quote Archbishop Fulton Sheen on the different stages of a man and woman during their marriage:

"First is the 'body-mystery' of the marital act; second, in the arrival of the first child, a husband and wife 'see in each other' something they 'never before knew existed', motherhood and fatherhood; third, once children reach the age of reason, is the mystery of 'fathercraft' and 'mothercraft'; fourth is an appreciation of 'their contribution to the well-being of the nation.' And 'here, too, is the root of democracy,' he added. 'For it is in the family that a person is valued not for what he is worth, nor for what he can do, but primarily for what he is.'   (emphasis mine)

the blue hour

 I read something about the blue hour. Then, tonight while doing the dishes, it arrived. 

I'm not sure these are anything special, or bluish.

But I enjoyed going out with the camera at that hour.

The little asters were closing up for the night! They sprang up in a clump outside the garden fence; I would never know they go to sleep like that if I'd stayed inside with the dishes.

passing away

Dolly isn't feeling so well these days, with a UTI and poor appetite. We're much occupied in trying to help her out - to feel more comfortable, at least. I read her this poem. I'm sure it was more for my own sake than for hers. 

Passing Away, Saith the World

Passing away, saith the World, passing away:
Chances, beauty and youth, sapp'd day by day:
Thy life never continueth in one stay.
Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to grey
That hath won neither laurel nor bay?*
I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May:
Thou, root-stricken, shalt not rebuild thy decay
On my bosom for aye.
Then I answer'd: Yea.

Passing away, saith my Soul, passing away:
With its burden of fear and hope, of labour and play,
Hearken what the past doth witness and say:
Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array,
A canker is in thy bud, thy leaf must decay.
At midnight, at cockcrow, at morning, one certain day
Lo, the Bridegroom shall come and shall not delay:
Watch thou and pray.
Then I answer'd: Yea.

Passing away, saith my God, passing away:
Winter passeth after the long delay:
New grapes on the vine, new figs on the tender spray,
Turtle calleth turtle in Heaven's May.
Though I tarry, wait for Me, trust Me, watch and pray.
Arise, come away, night is past and lo it is day,
My love, My sister, My spouse, thou shalt hear Me say.
Then I answer'd: Yea.

-  Christina Rossetti 

* I would say that our Dolly has won many laurels in this household and in our hearts, so this line does not apply to her. ;-)

two kinds of splendor

 We have a lot of these.

Today was the feast of the Assumption of Mary. At Mass on this occasion the priest will bless the fruits of your garden, whatever they might be. I wanted to put some things in a basket to bring, but waking up with a headache really got in the way. My brother threw a few vegetables in a bag and that was ours, in the midst of the attractive baskets at the altar. Oh, well. 

I finished Gatsby. I had no idea how Shakespearean of a tragedy it was, but I can see why it's considered the Great American Novel. Then I went on Prime and watched half of the DiCaprio version; I will say he did very well with Gatsby, but the whole production seemed so over the top - I don't need to watch the whole thing, I know what happens. When the Robert Redford/Mia Farrow Gatsby came out I didn't go to see it but I went to Cape Cod with a co-worker for a weekend. I have a definite memory of a walk we took and how we came upon an evening cocktail party. It was dusk and we could hear the clink of glasses and murmur of voices. The area was upscale - a nearby house had a built-in swimming pool, in a room by itself, lit-up, just before dark - this was 1974. The whole vibe I got was an elegant 1920s one, or what I imagined it to be. 

Through the power of his Resurrection, Christ has adorned Mary with the robe of his own grandeur and majesty, and arrayed her with glory and splendor. These garments of salvation are the revelation and crown of the holiness with which she lived her life on earth.

-  from Magnificat, August 2022

bananas and tomatoes

 We are still in a very hot spell; there is an official heat advisory until tomorrow night - it started Thursday morning! It was originally for a couple of days but they keep extending it until the next day, and they did it again yesterday. Wednesday is supposed to be better. Meanwhile, the foil pan of water I've been putting out is not being used by anybody in any way I can tell. The apple slices were gone the first time, and my brother said the water was dirty, but the second night, only one slice was gone. Saturday night I tried slices of radish, but nobody touched it. It was windy yesterday evening, and the tin blew off under the apple tree and the water was put out. It's breezy today, so I'll skip it. I wonder where all the ground creatures get their water around here.

Yesterday while making dinner, Annie came onto the table, hoping for some food; she'd already had lunch, so I ignored her. After a while I heard her chewing - she does tend to chew on odd things - and I could see squirts of tomato seeds and juice on the tablecloth. She had eaten one of the small tomatoes on the tray!  She wasn't tempted to try another, but she seemed none the worse for it, and she didn't run away in disgust. It reminded me of the time Henry accidentally ate a blueberry. He never wanted another.

The Orphan may have a sensitive system. A story, and this has happened twice: While I was eating a banana, she came up to me, so I held it out so she could sniff. She backed away after a whiff of it, and then actually gagged. I mean, in that exaggerated way that a comic actor might employ to get the point across - picture it in your mind. No bananas for Annie!

pleasant streets in the dusk of childhood

 So I'm reading Gatsby, and I've never read Fitzgerald before. His prose is interesting in its spare, aloof matter-of-fact style. I was thinking almost too detached, but then

"For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened - then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk." 

Really. ...with lingering regret like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.  This evokes such impressions from childhood. I still feel like he's coolly telling the tale from a safe and unemotional distance, but that simile did impress me. He's not remote enough to lose a sense of poetry. 

all gone

 And the apple slices were gone this morning!

keeping fireflies alive

 I am still reading the Gladys Taber; it was the February chapter and she was talking about the bird bath water which had thawed. I suddenly remembered how stagnant the brook's water is, how dry and hot it is now. I went out and dragged the bird bath from the shed. 

It's kind of in a spot by itself, but it was level there and we've got no tree to put it under anymore. I don't want it in the front yard - it wouldn't look good, so it's out in the sun. I also put a tin foil dish with water on the bridge, for the ground creatures. Tonight I added some apple slices to the water - it looked untouched, but maybe a night animal will find it. I hope. A racoon, or opossum. A skunk, maybe. I'll check it in the morning. It seems to take them a while to realize the water is there.

I'm very excited to have this book about fireflies. I had the sudden idea that if I loved them so much, maybe there was a readable, but not too childish or too technical book, and this is the ticket! I've also got The Psychology of Totalitarianism by Mattias Desmet (you've either heard of him or you haven't) and Klara and the Sun, which is with an online discussion with Joy Clarkson - her annual summer selection. It's not anything I'd ever pick up, but I'm starting to get an interest. 

Yesterday someone returned a copy of The Great Gatsby, and I decided to take it. 

I tried to photograph it on the windowsill, and Annie kept passing back and forth - I gave up trying to do it well. 

Too many books at once, I think.