rabbits with necklaces

 I was alarmed one day to see a rabbit out my window, with something around its neck. That was disturbing; had someone tried to put a collar on it? Had it gotten tangled in something? If so, we'd never be able to catch a wild rabbit to help it out.

It looked loose, but was it all the way around? It almost looks like a bow, doesn't it?

This was a little closer. Finally, I got a picture of his other side.

This is very fuzzy, but you can just see it on his other side but not on both! Well, that was a relief! A piece of yarn stuck to the fur, maybe. 

where true gladness is found

The collect from Mass this morning struck me:

O God, who cause the minds of the faithful
to unite in a single purpose,
grant your people to love what you command
and to desire what you promise,
that, amid the uncertainties of this world,
our hearts may be fixed on that place
where true gladness is found.
 

the power of two

 I'm reading The Man Who Was Thursday, by G.K. Chesterton. Our main character is in a dangerous situation, but thought he was quite alone, only to discover he has an ally, after all.

"It may be conceded to the mathematicians that four is twice two. But two is not twice one; two is two thousand times one. That is why, in spite of a hundred disadvantages, the world will always return to monogamy."

wild mornings

 We had a lively thunderstorm yesterday morning while getting ready for work, the kind that makes you nervous about washing up but you know you've got to do it anyway. It was a typical summer storm but after the rainy July we had, the water was sitting in puddles around the back yard. My brother went out to look at the brook, and he said the water went over his shoes. The water in the lawn, that is, not the water in the brook.

And on the subject of water, I have to take the spray bottle to bed with me against the early mornings when Daisy goes after my feet. 

She's starting to get it.

"God bless you, and give you health, strength, good spirits, and as much of life as you think worth having."

The above is a quote from Thomas Jefferson, in a letter to John Adams. More of that later.

I had a cute pillow from the thrift store, from which I'd removed the ugly cover. Underneath, the stuffing was encased in something which wasn't real fabric, and it disintegrated, so I grabbed the nearest piece of cotton to me the other day and whipped up a new cover.

It's a permanent cover, but I still want to make a removable one. 

So I'm done with the Adams-Jefferson letters. Their mutual affection was remarkable, and the sign-offs in their correspondence always touching.

I hope [your health] is restored; and that life and health may be continued to you as many years as yourself shall wish is the sincere prayer of your affectionate and respectful friend.

                                        - Jefferson, Jan. 11, 1817

...I am still unalterably your Friend,  J. Adams

                                       May 21, 1819

I...repeat always with truth the assurances of my constant and affectionate friendship and respect.

                                                - Jefferson, June 27, 1822

I most sincerely congratulate you on the recovery of your hand, and am your friend for this, and, I hope, and believe, for all future Worlds.

                                             - Adams, Feb. 10, 1823

...I add sincere assurances of my unabated, and constant attachment, friendship and respect.

                                                         - Jefferson, Oct. 12, 1823

I have lost your last letter to me, the most consolatory letter I ever received in my life. What would I not give for a copy of it. Your friend for all eternity.

                                                 - Adams, April 19, 1825  (the letter was a congratulation on the occasion of the election of John Quincy Adams to the Presidency)

Rye Spelt Flatbread

 Gretchen would like the recipe for flatbread I made yesterday.

You mix together: 150g spelt flour, 150g rye flour, 1 tsp. instant dry yeast, 1 tsp. sugar, 1 tsp. sea salt and 1 T. of cracked fennel or dill seeds.

Then stir in 150ml room-temp buttermilk and 2 T. nice oil. 

Knead until smooth and add 1 T. warm water. Let rise 30 mins. with damp cloth over it. Divide into ten balls, and roll each out to about 8 inches. Cook, one at a time, in a hot skillet with lid. Two minutes on each side. 

I had torn this out of a magazine, but don't remember which.

*I need to say that I didn't notice it called for instant yeast, and I used regular active dry. I didn't notice it called for a tablespoon of water at the end, but it needed something and I decided to add some regular flour to it, and then some water, until it felt right. As for the rising, it took longer than a half hour. But they came out well, and taste good!

flatbreads

 Last night I decided I should make bread today. This morning I was reading Gretchen's blogpost and when she got to the part about making bread, I hightailed it out of there - I had forgotten. I went to my recipe box and saw a recipe for flatbread with spelt and rye flours. 

It made about ten, and now I know how to cook flatbreads. I had to mess with the ingredients, as the dough wasn't sticky like they said it would be; I had to add flour and water, and I let it rise longer than they said to. But then, you heat up the pan, roll it out thin, and cook it on the stove, with the lid on the skillet, for two minutes on each side. So, you stand there and it takes a while. But I was afraid to go and do anything - this is something I'll have to figure out if I ever make it again. A regular loaf doesn't need any watching, at least for most of its time in the oven. Anyway, it's very good.

"your quiet rest"

 O God of love, grant us your peace,
Within each restless mind.
May all our inner turmoil cease,
God, show us how to find
Your quiet rest, your still, small voice,
Your light upon life's way,
To walk with you our humble choice,
God, give us grace to pray.

interruptions

 I'm nearing the end of the Adams-Jefferson letters. From John Adams, Dec. 2, 1811:

I have been deeply afflicted with the account of your accident. At first your Leg was broke - I shuddered, I feared that I should have no more letters from Monticello. Next came the account that it was only a small bone in the arm. My hopes revived. The difference between the leg and the Arm was immense. To illustrate this difference, and for your consolation and amusement, I will give you an egotistical anecdote. When one of the Comets was here in our neighborhood I went out one evening into my garden to look at the wandering Star, with four or five Gentlemen. We returned through an alley over which my Men had placed a strong stake to prevent a peach tree from breaking down with its load of fruit. In the dark I blundered against this stake, broke its fastness - it fell and I with it on the sharp edge of a knot in it. I felt a sharp cut but thought it had only broke the skin. I scampered up and returned to the house with the other Gentlemen. My Daughter Smyth cryed out, Sir, what has happened to you, your Leg is all bloody. I strip[p]ed off the stocking and low[!] a gash from half an inch, to an inch deep cut by the sharp knot, bleeding profusely. My Daughter cried out, bring me some Laudanum. I knew no better. Her Mother [who] always had an Apothecary's Shop in her closet instantly brought a Bottle. They poured a quantity of it into the wound and washed the neighboring flesh with it, [and] bound a bandage around it, but it produced an inflammation which cost me a confinement for two months. Several surgeons came to see me and all agreed that neither the genius nor experience of Philosophers, Physicians nor surgeons had hitherto invented any means of preventing the humours falling down into a Wound in the Leg but by holding it up. They accordingly compelled me to hold mine almost perpendicularly, oftener lieing on my back on a Sofa oftener at an angle of forty five but never lower than an horizontal line. In this manner they made me vegitate for two months suffering continual twinges on the shin. The Bathes, tents and bandages and lotions I pass over. I verily believe that if nothing had been done to it but washing in warm water it would have been well in three days. You may console yourself with the hope that your Arm will soon be well; you will not be obliged to hold your arm up pointing to the skies.

I found this quite amusing, but am not sure Mr. Jefferson did - in his reply letter he only thanked Adams for inquiring after his health, and focused on other things.               

     

I was just about to wash my hair, and a flash of lightning appeared. It can wait.

a garden saga

 The very rainy weather pattern we were in seems over, and it's actually been September-like at times, in the high seventies and how eighties. Amazing! And very welcome. But all my plans for the backyard garden were foiled and now I just have to learn from this and forge ahead. 

Do you see the long grasses in there? Just one week ago I went in to pull up some weeds after the weather had changed. There was standing water in there along the edges, and the weeds I pulled up were not only in muddy soil, which I expected, but sopping, dripping mud. There was really no point in continuing. I realized that raised beds are what I need to think about. I don't know if today, one week later, it was much drier, but today we're having a very rainy day, rain on and off all day, so there is really no point. The rain today is normal for summer, falling straight down, cooler breezes coming in the windows - it's nice. But that area down there doesn't need any more water, unless I want to grow rice. 

My brother had told me in the spring that he wanted to focus on the side garden - he works long hours and doesn't have so much time - so I said I'd work in the back garden. 

His MO for the garden was always to rototill, and then plant everything close together, so the plants could help prop each other up to a certain degree. He would incorporate some compost with each plant he put in, and then use MiracleGro for fertilizer. He told me that the point of growing your own veg is to spend as little money as possible, to make it worthwhile. And, to be fair to him, he had to make good use of what little time he had to spend on it. But I have different ideas (and probably less realistic than his).

I told him not to till, that I didn't want to weed seeds to be turned up by the tiller. I was just going to try and keep up with them as time went on. When I began in mid-May, it was kind of muddy in there, but I bought a few savoy cabbage plants and onion sets and put them in, along with some mushroom compost from the garden store down the road. I had no idea of filling up the space, as it is a good size and I didn't want to overwhelm myself; I thought I'd buy plants a little at a time, and compost as needed, clearing weeds as I went along. I developed a vague memory of a weeding implement, dug around in the basement and found my cape cod weeder - a fantastic tool for weeding! When the ground is dry, there's nothing like it for cutting those weeds out entirely; when the ground is moist, you can usually just pull them up by hand. 

So, time went on and I bought the rosemary plant, a garlic chive, and some oregano, just whatever caught my fancy when I was at the garden place, and I got some chicken manure fertilizer, the dried sort. I took care of my plantings, the cabbage was growing nicely and I also got an heirloom tomato called Black Russian - I do love the heirloom tomatoes. My plan was to see how things went, and maybe cover parts of the garden with cardboard if I thought I wasn't going to plant there, to keep down the weeds. I was going out in the cool mornings, watering and spreading grass clippings around the plants.  I had a plan. Then it started to rain. 

At first, I just waited, but it would shower every day, it seemed, and more like a downpour. And at times when I couldn't go out. Then, it was all so wet, there wasn't much point, and I thought it would pass. But it lasted three or four weeks, along with steady excessive humidity, the whole time. The cabbages were ruined. The tomato was, too. I didn't think to put them in pots - I didn't know it would last so long. 

I read somewhere once that Leonardo had many failures; he kept going. There isn't much point in my being mopey - I just want to learn from this episode. I was telling my brother at dinner that I'm going to get raised beds. He can't see putting out any expense for them, considering how they need to be filled, etc. But there are a lot of helpful gardening channels on youtube - like Huw Richards, an amazing young man who's had a channel since he was a child, really, and he has frugal and sensible ideas for gardening. I don't mind the expense in order to establish things.

We'll see how it goes.

living portraits

 "What God's voice tells us is the true story of his incredible love for us. No other storyteller, however gifted, can paint for us the full, living portrait of who we are and have been, and who we are becoming. Let us listen attentively, lest we forget and try to remake ourselves according to some other image."

                                           

This periodically appears in Magnificat, and it always strikes me: God as the master storyteller; the portrait of who we have been, are and are becoming; remaking ourselves into another image.