Here's a project I began a few years ago, but when something has a place in this house, it can easily be forgotten. But then I remembered it, and would like to finish it.
I'm just "quilting" these two fabrics together by hand, with different flosses as my whim dictates. Half is done, and I'm going the other way.
"Our peace doesn't come from the world, from exterior circumstances... It is the fruit of prayer...The only time we have good discernment is when we are at peace. When we're preoccupied by worry, disturbed by events in our lives, our emotions can get the best of us and we don't have an objective grasp on reality - we are tempted to see everything in black and white and question everything in our life.
When a problem has robbed us of our peace, the most important thing is not to resolve the problem in the hope of regaining our peace, but to regain a minimum of peacefulness, and then to see what we can do to face the problem. We will avoid making irrational choices for all the wrong reasons. How do we get back this minimum level of peace? Essentially through prayer, listening to the Word, and believing that God will never abandon us."
- Father Jacques Philippe, from Magnificat, July 2026
We've had such beautiful weather this week - so welcome, after the Previous Awful. And the nights are in the fifties lately! Very unusual for July. In this morning's prayers: from Psalm 65 - "the hills are girded with joy". I underlined it. This sort of poetic description just takes you away, doesn't it?
I'm reading The Brothers Karamazov - wish me luck. I expect it'll take me at least a month.
I sat on the front step this evening before sunset and saw two young rabbits frolicking across the street. After a while, they ran back across the road to our back area, I think. But then I noticed two more still across the street, so life continues.
I bought a dress - new - and it came with a scent that I didn't want. It smelled like a fake fragrance you get from some detergents - not appealing. Why? A new dress! Anyway, I knew what to do. I hung it on the clothesline. This was last Saturday. Then we had heavy rain on and off. I left it out. A new dress. It wasn't on sale, by the way, but what are you going to do? I had washed it, but it has only happened once that a smell came out in the wash - not usually. Anyway, I was determined to give the fresh air a chance.
I turned it over every day - I was concerned about fading, but the coloring has a faded effect anyway, so I hoped it wouldn't be anything obviously awful. On Thursday I sniffed it, and - it was ninety nine percent gone, and that was good enough for me.
"O God, in your love, you have sown the Good News of the Gospel in the wilderness of the world and brought it to flower and fruit through the death and Resurrection of your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Grant us the wisdom to recognize your love at work in hiddenness, the faith to trust in your love at work in weakness, the hope to live by your love at work in darkness, that all the world may grow to the fullness of life you offer in the same Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen"
It was ninety-eight degrees on Tuesday; yesterday was supposed to be slightly cooler, with possible storms in the evening. I went to work and noticed it was looking like something was brewing outside - it was yellowish out there, but the weather report said nothing. It was the patrons who told me it was from the Canadian fires. I tell you, it was so bad, my eyes were stinging all day and everything outside looked unnatural, like another planet.
Today, I woke up with a headache that nothing would touch. I went out briefly in the morning and it got a little worse. It only started to improve when I put on the a/c. There was still haze today and will be tomorrow, but at least it doesn't look weird. It's been a strange summer, with high heat and this....
But I think I'm caught up on my sleep! - I took about four naps, and did only the minimum of housework.
I wonder how the creatures felt - do their eyes burn? But I will say this - in the height of summer, on the hottest days of July, you can't step outside without hearing a mockingbird singing somewhere, nearby or in the distance, but if you know their sound, you will hear them.
I've been reading an article in Plough, an interview with Ken Burns, the filmmaker and historian.
"This word 'liberty' had an incredible effect. Why would anybody want to give up the benefits of being a subject of the British constitutional monarchy? Most of everyone's wealth, education, prosperity, and literacy came from that colonial relationship. Why would you give up those benefits for freedom and democracy, ideas never tried before in human history? At the heart of the American experiment is possibility. At the heart is risk. At the heart of it is this willingness to be this new thing, a citizen.
It's not hard to be a subject. You're under authoritarian rule and you just put up with stuff. But to be a citizen is to assume responsibility, to assume the pursuit of happiness, which the Founders understood not as the acquisition of things, but the pursuit of lifelong learning. Lifelong learning made you more virtuous, and the more virtuous you were, the more possibility that you could begin to bear the responsibility of citizenship and to be able, if not to answer, then to ask more authentically those essential questions: Who am I? Where did I come from? What is my purpose? Where am I going?
I am interested in these gigantic conflicts like the Revolution that produce something as spectacularly interesting as this idea that people, for the first time in human history, could govern themselves. It wasn't just the aristocracy that pushed this forward, but ordinary people who debated over the ratification of the Constitution and the subsequent Bill of Rights. It is one of the most active moments in the history of humanity of people coming together in a civic way to create something. But did they agree? No, not at all.
In the compromises of the Constitution, there was the perpetuation of slavery, even though it had just been proclaimed eleven years earlier that 'all men are created equal'. And yet saying these things began to open the door to permit even the people who knew it wasn't about them to see path forward. Women, Native peoples, free and enslaved black people, and the poor understood that this was the opening salvo in battles that they could fight to make the words truer and less hypocritical. So, for me, in American history, the best sometimes comes out of the worst and sometimes the worst comes out of the best."
- Ken Burns
I didn't mean to quote so much of it. But it's a week since the 250th July 4th, and it seems weird that it's not more of a big deal; I really appreciate his vision of this country.
She fits in it perfectly.
She hides underneath it, so no one can see her!
The pie came out well, I decorated the table with lots of red, white and blue, I made strawberry coconut milk ice cream and we stayed in with the air conditioning. Of course! One has to make the most of things. I wore my latest dress creation - the coolest thing I own.
I was hoping I'd hear some bells ringing if I stuck my head out, but I suppose city dwellers would be more likely - nobody near me was ringing any bells. I would have rung some, if we had any. I even had the idea to dig around for some little Christmas bell decorations, but I stored my ornaments differently this year and have no idea where they are! I would have rung anything if I could have just found it!
We were talking a bit about the founders: what made them persist, what gave them their momentum to shake off the British and start their own government. It's easy to give up, especially when the average person complains in the pub, but that's about all. I did read a book about Samuel Adams where the author gave him credit for never letting go of the idea to throw off British rule; he was constantly talking about it, planting the idea in people's minds. I need to find more books about that.
And after a week of extreme heat, it was barely seventy today, and raining. Cold air was actually blowing in! I'm happy for the creatures - I couldn't tell if anybody was drinking from the little trays I set out with water. The rabbit above was out in the rain for a while today, and didn't mind the wet at all. Maybe the leaves he ate were jucier.
I was busily peeling and cutting apples when I noticed that a couple of them had a Liberty Bell-shaped sticker.
The heat's intense and the air conditioner is humming, which makes me feel in another world. I'm sure the cats also feel that way, very different from the winters, when we're also shut in, but without the humming.
There is a birdbath on one side of the house, near a tree. Last night I found a couple of tins and filled them with water for the outside neighbors, with a rock in one of them, for the other side of the property - the brook is dry.
I intend to bake an apple pie, so I should get going. The phrase, "As American as apple pie" came to me, so I thought it a good idea when I was planning the menu for tomorrow, but with so much electricity being used in southern New England, to use the oven at a high temperature for almost an hour seems silly.
I'm going to do it, anyway.
Christ is alive! No longer bound
To distant years in Palestine,
But saving, healing, here and now,
And touching every place and time.
In every insult, rift and war,
Where color, scorn or wealth divide,
Christ suffers still, yet loves the more,
And lives, where even hope has died.
Loving Father, we praise you with all our heart, for you have rescued us.
Preserve us, protect us. Change our mourning into dancing.
Through Christ our Lord. Amen.
- from Magnificat, June 2026
Less than an hour before dark, and I see the sun gilding the trees in the back yard. After an overcast and rain on-and-off day. Tomorrow will be nice - the air feels drier already!
The fireflies are out!
Something dawned on me just lately: when it gets humid I can hardly function, and have to almost force myself to do things. Today, I wanted to clean the tiled walls in the bathroom, which needed more than wiping off the dust. I quickly did it almost right after I got up, before it got warm, before it reached that tipping point. Why does it take us so long to figure these things out?
"The life of a Christian is a prayer. We are like diamonds, shining in many different ways. Each facet has been polished by God. Our very being renders glory to him. The simple fact that we are baptized in the death and resurrection of Christ is enough to make us a prayer. Sweeping, washing, cleaning, serving our families in small ways - all this is prayer."
- Catherine de Hueck Doherty
I like my quiet times in the morning, with my prayer book, my Bible, my rosary and the birdsong. But I don't want to be so rigid that I can't see a better way in different seasons.
"Studying is a prayer, if this is what we are supposed to be doing. Being sick is a prayer; being healthy is a prayer. I can't imagine any aspect of a Christian life that is not a facet of this sparkling diamond...."
"As he bumped the car up the drive he deplored with sudden impatience the inescapable and impossible demands that his children make upon a man. It would have been more comfortable to have remained a bachelor and wallowed along in the agreeable state of self-deception that had been his before marriage. Fatherhood revealed one's inadequacies in an appalling manner..."
- The Heart of the Family, Elizabeth Goudge
"Patience...is really a matter of faith in the providence of God. If we can accept in our heart that this unpleasant moment is a vehicle of God's concern, then we will be less angry and depressed and more able to avoid inner rebellion. Instead of blaming those around us for negative experiences, we need to develop a robust faith in providence, alive to the action of God in our daily life. If we are blind to this action, we will reject the value of our concrete circumstances. Instead of growing through difficulties, we will want to run away. The perception that God is in this situation and we are called to find him here and now is a very great gift of grace.
This trust in providence has another advantage: it enables us to seize every opportunity. It is something energizing. If we believe God is acting in our lives, we will be more inclined to take testing times seriously....The key to patience is faith."
- Sister Mary David Totah, O.S.B. From Magnificat, June 2926
I sat at my sewing table a few minutes ago and there before me was a beautiful sunset, all pink and gold. I have no idea how to photograph such a thing; I've tried. All I could do was watch. These sort of moments are like being in an Elizabeth Goudge story.
I wore my daffodil dress yesterday in the heat. Since I like this simple style so much, I decided that maybe I should focus on making several, and perfecting the fit as I go. So I had ordered three lengths of quilting cottons on sale. This was the first. Quilting fabric isn't created equal - the daffodil one was classic, with that body that's good in an a-line dress. After I was finished with it, I realized that I didn't like the shoulders, so I took a tuck on either side to bring in the edge.
It did the trick. I have narrow shoulders, but sometimes I like the slightly oversized look at the top. Not this time, but the tucks made it better. The second fabric is a black and dark blue batik. Batik fabric tends to be thinner, and I wasn't sure it was suited for the same silhouette, so I angled the pattern pieces out, to make it more a-line, and fuller, and I also brought in the center of the bodice a half inch, so I wouldn't have to make any tucks, if you get what I mean; just a different way of bringing the shoulders in toward the center. I think this was a good idea; I've put it on and it's looking promising. So tonight I was sewing some binding around the neckline when the sunset appeared out my window. The third fabric is a burgundy red. I washed it today, and it still feels silky - I'm not sure I want to make it in this same a-line shape. I have to think. But with present temps in the seventies, I won't be needing these that soon.
After five or so days in the nineties, with increasing humidity, the seventies are so welcome! Of course, we'll have humid days, but for today, the winds are strong, the sun was warm, and tonight it's going to be fifty two. Let the cool air blow - we have quilts. Speaking of warming things, lately when I make a cup of tea, I don't finish it, so today I used a smaller cup and finished the whole thing.
Not as small as a china teacup, but smaller than an average mug. Like Goldilocks.
I washed another window today; I can see that I need to give up the notion of spring or fall cleaning, and just do it as I can. But anyway, I found out that a small paintbrush is good for getting into the window tracks - and it is! What an idea!
I'm thrilled.
"Nature is no mere gathering of atoms but rather the outward form of God's imagination."
- Sarah Clarkson, Reclaiming Quiet
We are hoping for a break in the humidity - they're talking of thunderstorms.
"What grieves us most, O Lord, is playing without joy your beautiful music, you who move us from day to day. We grieve at being always at the practice phase and our efforts are labored and lacking in grace. We grieve that people see us as heavily burdened, serious and clumsy. We grieve at being unable to display in our corner of the world, in the midst of our toil and our fatigue, the ease of eternity."
- Madeleine Delbrel
"It was because Damerosehay did not change that in this chaotic, tumbling, terrifying world it was a place of such comfort."
- from Elizabeth Goudge's The Herb of Grace (1948)
Last week I'd felt the urge to re-read The Bird in the Tree, and now I'm reading this one, the second in the set of three. When I came upon the above sentence, I realized that is why I read certain novels again and again. It's non-fiction that I tend to pick up "new". It seems to me that if a book speaks strongly or deeply to you, there is a reason for it, and it's up to you to pursue that. Get out of it everything you are supposed to, although that makes it sound so much like use, when it's really like a drinking more and more deeply of something nourishing. Hopefully, anyway.
The liturgical year turns and today we are in the feast of Corpus Christi. Our church sits right at a busy intersection, and when it's not raining we go outside after mass and process around the property, stopping at four altars set up along the way. Often it's hot out, and I find it hard to stand in the bright sun but today we are having a really strong wind (which is delightful, I think!) and partly cloudy conditions which kept things comfortable. But as for proper June temperatures - we just don't have them. It should be in the seventies, and it's not, nor is it going to be, according to the forecasts. But I realize I'm often complaining about the weather over here. (sorry)
I made a simple dinner of chicken thighs, marinated in plenty of lemon juice, olive oil, smoked paptrika, garlic, salt and pepper, and baked at a high temp till done. Which took longer than the recipe said, but I don't like slimy chicken. But it was easy, after not falling asleep until two, and getting home from church much later than usual.
After seeing the rabbits often, lately I don't see them at all and I wonder if they've had babies. But there was one in my garden the other day, in one of the beds I'm not using at the moment, eating some weedy stuff. The garden is anything but neat, but if the creatures like it, perhaps it's not a weed
"But Sally did not want to be set free for anything, for it was living itself that she enjoyed. She liked lighting a real fire of logs and fir-cones and toasting bread on an old-fashioned toaster. And she liked the lovely curve of an old staircase and the fun of running up and down it. ... It's my stupid brain, she said to herself. I like the leisurely things, and taking my time about them."
"It was the glorified beauty of the familiar and habitable earth that she saw now, the trees and flowers and creatures that made up the sweetness of it, but soon she would see more. She would see the spirits of those she loved going about the purposes of God bathed in the light of His perpetual compassion...
one world inter-penetrates another; we live in them both, but... the language of the lesser is the language of dreams and birdsong, sunshine and the kindliness of man"
- Elizabeth Goudge, The Bird in the Tree
Spirit of the Father and the Son,
ripen your fruits in our hearts:
Grant us patience and gentleness,
charity, joy, and peace.
- from Magnificat, May 2026
Well, last week was finally Pentecost, the end of the Easter season, and today is Trinity Sunday. It's very springlike, and pleasant out. Yesterday it was fifty five, wet, gusty and cold! Well, we'll be in June tomorrow, and done with that sort of thing, hopefully.
We had a nice Memorial Day and before that, a visit with an elderly aunt, my mother's remaining sister. She is ninety four, and doing as well as she can - still at home!
I finished the daffodil dress, except for the hem. I really like those sleeveless, a-line shifts for hot summer days at home, so I plan to make a couple more. I put the green blouse project aside when the heat rose - couldn't stand the thought of it.
A beautiful Tasha Tudor book was dropped off at the library, in perfect condition; I took it home to read.
Filled with quotes, poems, prose and everything romantic, I wouldn't put it in the children's section, even though it looks like all her wonderfully charming picture books for children - no, this one would go over the heads of the little ones. Apparently, if you have a toothache, you should kiss a donkey.
That was from Germany. But you're out of luck if you don't know anyone with a donkey, aren't you?
"In the Middle Ages they kissed the newborn baby three times
in the name of the Holy Trinity."
- Tasha Tudor
