fresh air and sunshine

 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. 

soaking wet in the rain

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. 

I wanted to share this, because I have washed stinky items over and over, I have soaked them with vinegar and water, with baking soda and water - these things don't work. Only the air, and the breeze. Maybe the sun? I don't know that. I once bought a used handbag on Etsy which smelled of fragrance and I couldn't wash the lining of a leather bag so I hung it out in desperation. For a month! It took a month of hanging it out every non-rainy day, and I didn't give up. That's when I learned this method. So I wore the dress to work and a friend came in, admiring the print and fabric, and it turned out she is also familiar with this method. So, if you have bought clothing or a blanket or other linens that smells and you're afraid you're going to have to get rid of it - DON'T. Try this! 

In late spring, somebody left two daisy plants at the library's plant swap table, and I took them. Now there are more daisies at our house than before. 

But the daisies outside are predictable in their behavior. Of course I had to re-wash this pot. 

blossoms everywhere

Perfect days like this make you forget the ones that went before - it was wonderful. Sunny, temperate, very breezy. I went out and wished I'd brought a camera because the pink cherry blossoms would flutter around in the wind, even into the back yard.

They are everywhere in the front, and all the way down the edges of the driveway - it looks like we've had a wedding here.

Meanwhile, the crabapple is fantastic - filled with white blossoms.

Once again, the birds never ate the fruit over the fall and winter, and I wasn't able to pick it with snow all around the tree, but that didn't get in the way of the blooming at all. I've always been partial to crabapple trees. When the cherry blooms, the leaves are there, too; the flowers are rosette-like - well, I've taken enough pictures of them over the years. But the crab blossoms take over the whole tree; there are leaves, but they're dwarfed by all the flowers. I also love the spreading habit of apple and crabapple trees. But don't tell the cherry - she's a brave one, and well-loved. 

the October storm of 2011 - she's never been the same since

random feelings of the heart

The purple-leafed plum was blooming a week ago, and it was exciting to see: the first blooming tree. Four days later, it was over! We did have cold weather last week, but maybe it's a short-lived thing anyway - we haven't had that tree long enough for me to remember it's blooming habits. But now the cherry trees are all pink with the crabapples right behind. The grass is emerald, and everything is lush and hopeful. 

I ripped the sleeves off the dress bodice, and detached it from the skirt. I took in the sides an inch. I think I want to make a lining, give it some substance. This may take a while.

Random feelings of the heart,
Ravings of a lone exile,
Stranger to the rules of art,
Let me robe in homely style.

-  James Kennedy, 18th century

the last days of summer

The nasturtium bloomed. I was wondering if it would.

The other things on the front steps are in the pink family, so I'll have to figure something out. I have a yellow mum; it is the very end of summer; we'll see.

We had a couple of warmer days this week, with some humidity. By evening of that day, even the cats wouldn't eat until I put the air conditioners on. But today we were back to beautiful, and the sunlight had that golden quality. The light that shines between the leaves shimmered on the living room floor - even Daisy noticed. The days are closing in. 

Daisy sleeps in cute positions lately.

These were on different days. But she likes the back of that chair, where she can see outside if the front door is open.

I went out in the garden today and cut all the chives. Now they dry where Daisy can't reach.

It seems like a lot, but they're nice thrown in with scrambled eggs, and they won't last long.

There seems to be only one rabbit left around our property, after so many over the last few years. I have no idea if hawks or owls got some of them, or other predators. I often am running outside near the shrubs where I think some of them lived, chasing away a cat too close to the place. It's terrible. Dianne's fluffy yellow cats come by sometimes, and there's the gray cat who caught the baby bunny a year ago. But there's a third, a dark tabby with legs of a darker fur, and yesterday I caught him going into the bushes where I think they hide - the rabbit was a little way off and the cat didn't see him. I don't think a cat would attack a full-grown rabbit, but I went over there to try and flush him out, and I saw a mound of dried brush, with a hole in the middle of it. A cover for an animal, but I don't know who. I love cats, and I look at Annie and Daisy and know they would also kill for sport. But they're not going to, and these others are roaming around, terrorizing smaller creatures. And I have no idea if the rabbits have just moved on, or what. Why can't they just have peace?

"In God's hand is the soul of every living thing, and the life breath of all mankind."

                                 -  Job 12:10

sweet breeze! thou only, if I guess aright, liftest the feathers of the robin's breast

 That was Coleridge. And oh, a day of cool air, breezing in my window, puffy clouds all over the sky! But I didn't move fast enough to record them before they drifted away. 

I heard some birds fussing in the distance. This always makes me feel bad; maybe there was a hawk around. Oh, for a world where there is none of that! Of course, the blue jays would have to find something else to occupy themselves. They are the ambulance-chasers of the bird world - well, everybody has their place. Poirot always was glad to talk to the busy-bodies of the neighborhood - they often proved helpful.

I grew nasturtium seeds, even though it's getting late. It's such a pretty plant.

I just heard a sound behind me, and there was Annie on my back window with a claw caught in the curtain. She was trying to get unhooked and couldn't, but did she say anything? How long would she have sat there, twisting slowly, slowly in the wind (so to speak)? Daisy is the same way. 

Strange. They do seem to understand the power of communication. Daisy often is telling us she wants food. Annie was really chatty the other day, telling me something. But they haven't made the connection entirely, I guess, especially when they could really use some help! Dolly would have called out, and she did, more than once. 

Well, September is at the door, and I'm looking over my fall clothes. This skirt needs reworking.

It's just not right. I cut off the waistband and picked out the zipper here. I'll sew up that seam where the zip was, turn over the top edge and make a casing for some lightweight elastic. Then I'll see how much I need to take it up - it's too long. 

I've been reading The Jungle Book - it's so charming! This is what the library copy looks like.

a lot of sparkle

I had just shut off the a/c, opened my side window, and was watching the pretty sparkle of the fireflies, when someone on the street behind us set off quite a colorful display of fireworks. So much for the quiet beauty of nature.

Daisy is in my back window, watching fireworks set off by another neighbor - it looks like a big sparkler, or something. Annie is on the hallway chair, which is brave for her; she isn't hiding. Our town event is scheduled for Tuesday, so this sort of nightly show may happen again. For the first time in days, I don't hear the mockingbird. Well, the creatures don't know what to make of the loud noises and I feel sorry for them. 

I don't know where I've been - mentally - for the past week. I always mean to post, but something gets in the way. I am making a linen top: sleeveless and simple, and I've been researching various ways of cutting bias strips. There are many, and it's interesting! I have to bind the neck and armholes and didn't want to use the packaged stuff. 

I've been experimenting with strawberry frozen yogurt, and frozen coconut milk pops, coffee-flavored. Something cold for the mouth must be kept on hand at all times in summer heat!

seeing things differently

 "Carved into the high cross at Ahenny, County Tipperary, is a figure of a solitary monk sitting under a palm tree. Was he the founder of that monastery, being shown in the warm climes of Paradise? Possibly; no name is given. Or does he represent all the monks who came to Ireland from Egypt?

In Aghaboe, County Cork, is an Ogham stone near a well. Its inscription says, "Pray for St. Olan the Egyptian." Nobody knows how old it is, and some scholars say Ogham writing began in the first century. Almost all agree that the stone predates St. Patrick by at least a century. 

One thing is certain....by the sixth century,... monasticism was sweeping the world.

The term monasticism has picked up baggage in popular culture, and so it may be a good idea to place the early Irish monks in their historical context. First, dispel any mental image of Ellis Peters' fictional Br. Cadfael in his cozy sociable herbarium at his magnificent 12th century Benedictine abbey on the edge of Wales. Irish monasticism began a thousand or so years earlier, and monks in Ireland lived in cold, wet, rocky, isolated, storm-tossed places like Skellig Michael, leading a life of physical suffering, hardship, loneliness, hunger and inward struggle.   It was exactly the life that they sought."

                                  -    Connie Marshner, Monastery and High Cross

I've been taking too long reading this book, but now am trying to attend. It is very intriguing to think of Egyptian and Armenian monks traveling to Ireland and sharing their techniques in stonework and illumination of manuscripts. 

The rhododendron out back looks so pretty; it's so big. They do just grow. I have no problem with that. And there's another further out over the brook.

I can't complain about the views out my bedroom window.

One of the sewing channels I sometimes watch on youtube is an English woman who was recently showing how often she makes her favorite (should I say "favourite"?) patterns, the ones which suit her taste and her lifestyle. She would rather adapt one of her existing patterns than always be buying new ones. She had a style of tank top she's made - I don't know, eleven times? In different fabrics, as well as other colors. There was something about this video that struck me as something I hadn't realized before. I do have an a-line dress pattern I've made at least five times, but I think that's because it's a basic, classic style. It's hard to explain, but I suddenly was looking differently at my sewing aspirations.

So, looking to sew myself something versatile, I noticed on my pinterest page a few sleeveless tops with a slight swingy-ness to them. I actually have a tee shirt pattern, so I adapted it to be fuller. 

I think I've had this deep green broadcloth for around forty years? Maybe thirty five. It's a cotton-poly and I don't love it, but it's my guinea pig for this project. I thought I'd make the bias binding rather than using the bought one, and this cotton lawn has the same green in it - a bit lighter - so I've been researching all the simple ways of cutting bias strips. This is a method I hadn't seen before. There are many methods! Anyway, I'm hoping I can tweak this to suit me and then have a few on hand for summer. I feel like I have a new way of approaching my sewing plans. 

rain and sun, bless the Lord

 Oh, the rain we've been having. And yesterday it was so cool and damp I actually shut all the windows and turned the heat back up. But I didn't hear it come on, so I used the oven twice, ironed, and made a thick soup for my supper, all the help to warm up the place

Later, the sun came out!

The trees are well past blooming, but now the azalea 

and the bridal wreath, are having their turns.

My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth and fair,
And I must off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my prayer.

But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn,
And hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs round the lawn.

RLS

The American Robin is of the thrush family, but we don't have lilacs in our lawn.

grave-robbing

 "St. John's narrative of the Resurrection opens on the morning of the first day of the week. It is still dark - just the way it was at the beginning of time before God said, 'Let there be light (Gen. 1:3). But a light is about to shine, and a new creation is about to appear.

The stone had been rolled away. That stone, blocking entrance to the tomb of Jesus, stands for the finality of death. When someone we love dies, it is as though a great stone is rolled across them, permanently blocking our access to them. And this is why we weep at death - not just in grief but in a kind of existential frustration.

But the stone had been rolled away. Undoubtedly, Mary Magdalene thought a grave robber had been at work. The wonderful Johannine irony is that the greatest of grave robbers had indeed been at work. The Lord said to the prophet Ezechiel, 'I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves' (Ezek. 37:12)  What was dreamed about, what endured as a hope against hope, has become a reality. God has opened the grave of his Son."

                                                             -   Bishop Robert Barron: a meditation on John 20:1-9

new life on the plum tree

Every time I see a rabbit outside, I wonder if it's the one we rescued from the cat last summer. Did he even survive? 

rather splotchy markings

trying to bloom in the cold

 It's been more like mid-March: cold, and snow predicted three times this past week. Neighboring towns got it when we didn't - until today. And it never reached forty today. But I was also looking at my blogposts from five years ago, and we had some snow in April then, too! It's helpful to have a way to remember these things.

Of course, it's gone now. The pansies I bought at the supermarket are cheerfully keeping company near the daffodils, but even though they're hardy, when it's threatening snow or twenty-eight degree temperatures, I take them in for the night, high up and out of Daisy's reach.

But everything is wonderfully green.

Love's as fresh as spring,

Love is spring:

Bird-song in the air,

Cool smells in a wood,

Whispering, 'Dare! Dare!'

To sap, to blood,

Telling, 'ease, safety, rest,

are good, not best.'

-  C.S. Lewis, from The Word in the Wilderness

 I know what we're going to eat for dinner all week - Holy Week is upon us, and to have a plan is a relief.

creature discomforts

 Daisy knocked one of the kitchen curtains on the floor -

There is one squirrel who isn't baffled by the - well, the squirrel baffle.

Clever fellow.

On another note, Annie chased a crumpled paper and brought it back to me seven times, and the daffodils are getting ready to appear.

the case of the missing pattern piece, and other things

Not the temperature they predicted, but Monday was sixty-five:  mild, hardly breezy and wonderful for a day off. Now we have finally gotten into the forties for the daytime. Outside, everything is burnished. That's November.

I picked up a biography of Samuel Adams, cousin to our second president, John, and according to British officials of the time, "the most dangerous man in Massachusetts". Considered by Paul Revere, John Hancock and cousin John Adams as their "political father", and called "truly the Man of the Revolution" by Thomas Jefferson; it's a young adult book, but full of information and interestingly written. I really knew very little about him; now I know he failed at every job he undertook. He only seemed good at "talking and writing about the rights and liberties of the people". I love reading about this era.

I have returned to a dress I was planning to sew a year ago; I don't remember what happened. I had started on the bodice, and - ?  So, now I'm ready to attach the skirt part, but I soon realized I hadn't cut them out. Okay, there's plenty of fabric there, so I looked for the pattern piece. All the pieces were there, except for that one - it was nowhere! But, looking at the shapes from the layout examples, I am sure I can just make a guess. There are center seams front and back, so - four pieces, and they're a-line. I just have to figure out how big the tucks should be and how much fabric to allow for them.

My brother had a birthday. I gave him a book of the meditations of Marcus Aurelius. He is liking it, and surprised at how interesting the observations are. 

The Christmas cactus at work is setting buds.

Things are getting more intense in Tolkien's The Two Towers, with Gandalf and Pippin flying away on Shadowfax, his tail flicking in the moonlight. Then he leaped forward, spurning the earth, and was gone like the north wind from the mountains.

"In rough October, earth must disrobe her"

The title is from a poem by Christina Rossetti.

 We had a few warm days this week, and I had the intention to sit at the picnic table at lunchtime - this was at work - but was sidetracked. When I got home I was determined to just sit outside for ten minutes while I could.

I sat on the front step, around sunset. I'd forgotten that white mums turn pink in the cold - at least, some do. And there's the lavender I never planted. 

The next day we had a lot of wind and many leaves came down. 

Things are starting to look bare. 

frail flowers

 If Hope, by Christina Rossetti

 If hope grew on a bush,
And joy grew on a tree,
What a nosegay for the plucking
There would be!

But oh! in windy autumn,
When frail flowers wither,
What should we do for hope and joy,
Fading together?

a little crop

 On Sunday, September the 22nd, I started reading Lord of the Rings again. I was feeling the pull, but thought I'd wait till Bilbo's birthday.

We had a nice, soft, quiet rainfall the other day, finally. It's been very dry for the better part of two months. 

I decided to harvest my butternut squashes. There were four of them, but one was lost; it had detached from the vine and rotted, all because I am an inattentive gardener. 

Still, it's amazing to see these things grown from one small seed. I would like to save one for Thanksgiving.

There is a lovely white cloud of tiny asters out there in the tangle of my garden, and tomorrow is Michaelmas. At least I assume that's what they are - it's the right time of year, but they are usually larger than these.

They're charming, anyway. We're in a warmer, humid spell, so I stopped washing the windows for a bit. I like doing them when it feels like fall's really here. There are other things to do. 

The images out of Tennessee and North Carolina are terrifying. May God have mercy on them.

"the Shadow takes another shape and grows again.

I wish it need not have happened in my time, said Frodo.

So do I, said Gandalf, and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

just some Chat

It was really cool today; overcast all day, with a kind of damp feeling. The temps were in the sixties, so it's not cold, but I was chilly in the house. We haven't had a frost yet, and don't expect one till mid-October, but it feels different, and I'm getting out my more fall-ish clothes by little and little. I can't just get them all out if I don't feel like it's time yet. I have heard that Britain had a frost, and that surprises me, since they have a milder climate than we.

We heard the Great Horned Owl again last night. And then within the hour, I twice heard an animal - I don't know, screeching, screaming, or whatever it was, it didn't sound good. I don't know the sounds of our wild creatures in distress, so it could have been anyone. I don't like to think of it.

I read a little further in The Distant Mirror. It surprised me that there was a push to abolish the mendicant orders right after the Black Plague. My brother didn't find an answer in any of his books, so I appealed to chatgpt.com. This is what they said, and I'm pasting it from their website:

"In the mid-14th century, several factors contributed to a growing critique of mendicant orders, such as the Franciscans and Dominicans. Here are some key reasons:

1. Economic Strain: The mendicant orders relied on alms and donations, and as economic conditions worsened due to events like the Black Death, there was less money to go around. This made their support more contentious.

2. Corruption and Criticism: Some mendicants faced accusations of corruption and failing to live up to their vows of poverty. As their numbers grew, issues like the accumulation of wealth and property arose, leading to disillusionment among both the laity and within the Church.

3. Intellectual Rivalry: The rise of university-educated clergy led to a tension between mendicants and secular clergy. The former were often viewed as more radical or extreme in their interpretations of poverty and spirituality, causing friction with established church authorities.

4. Reform Movements: The 14th century saw various reform movements within the Church aimed at addressing perceived moral and spiritual decay. Some reformers saw mendicants as part of the problem rather than the solution.

5. Political Context: The political landscape of Europe was also shifting, and local governments began to exert more control over religious orders. This often meant limiting the power and influence of mendicants, who were sometimes seen as too independent.

These factors combined to create a climate where the mendicant orders faced increasing scrutiny and calls for reform or even abolition."

Well, it makes sense, especially number one and number five, I think.  The reason I even thought of ChatGPT, was because my brother had asked it a detailed question previously on the beliefs held by the early Church fathers, and it was surprisingly accurate and thorough. So, if you're stumped over anything, give it a try. 

Some leaves are starting to fall.

                                     

a bit of charm on the front step

 The warmth has returned, and it feels summery again; today a "severe thunderstorm" threatened. The threat passed, but the rumbles remained for a while, with dark sky hovering in the distance. It rained some, and then strong winds blew in cool, cool air! Perfect.

Way back in May I gave in to temptation and purchased a planter at the supermarket, instead of a hanging plant. It was early in the month, before such flowers are blooming, but I couldn't resist it. There was phlox in it, dianthus, some little flowers and other things I'm unfamiliar with. It did very well, but eventually things were getting cramped and shaggy; I removed the phlox, and put most of the dianthus in my backyard garden, along with some of the tiny flowers. And I added a pretty sweet potato vine to the pot. I had seen one at Debra's years ago and never forgot it. Agway had a variegated type, and it really is pretty. Now, it's curving all around the front steps. 

It has gone down the side, too.

I also have a bright yellow pansy, which still blooms cheerily. I give these a bit of chicken manure fertilizer once a week, and they have responded to it. 

There are also two or three very small pots out there with what used to be seedlings in them - I had started things to put out in my garden, but when the butternut squash started covering the whole place, I gave up the idea. So they stay in their cramped quarters in contentment, I guess, and add to the grouping, and except for the borage, I don't remember what else they might be. Except charming.

summer glories

 There's not a plant or flower below,
but makes thy glories known,
And clouds arise, and tempests blow,
by order from thy throne;
While all that borrows life from thee 
is ever in thy care,
And everywhere that we can be,
thou, God, art present there.

-  Isaac Watts

growing

 I was just watching an adult rabbit and a young one grazing in the lawn. Then the baby hopped right through the fence around the garden, and disappeared inside. Maybe he was born in there, as happened a few years ago. Anyway, we'll see.  

I have four squares in that area, and plants in only one (weeds in the other four). There are curly parsley, red onions, Italian beans, cabbage and a butternut squash plant. There were two of those but one disappeared shortly after I planted the two. It's quite overgrown in here, especially around the perimeter, where tall grasses are growing. But I saw a rabbit reaching up and eating those, so now I'm almost glad they're there. 

Tried starting some watermelon, but even after a week nothing happened. I'm doing it again in a wet paper towel, and have got some zinnia seeds in the little pot, and borage seedlings outside, getting bigger.

"This is the singing month. Rambler roses everywhere, over white picket fences, over grey stone walls, climbing old well-houses, blooming on lattices in old-fashioned gardens. The whole green countryside is laced with shell pink, ivory white and rose red. The sky sings, too, such a deep tranquil blue. I think I can hear the horns of elf-land faintly blowing as I go out to the Quiet Garden to shell peas."

 

                                                    -   Gladys Taber

To live a contemplative life is to live at depth;
to live below the surface in the world of faith, 
the world of reality and not appearances. 

- Sister Ruth Burrows, O.C.D.