forty years later

The cool wind blew through my windows all day, tossing papers around and bringing a bit of chill into the house, but I was determined to put up with it; the day was so dry and beautiful, and the house will have to be shut up soon enough. But it was Very Windy. The mockingbird's song was not affected by the wind.

I went to Town Hall this evening because I've worked at the library for forty years. And every fall they recognize employees who are at their various milestones. If you stay in an interesting job, the time just goes by, I guess. Suzy Q, the director, took me out for dinner afterward. A special day. 

Leo, not Leon

 I started my Sunday cooking early, and the house smells wonderful: thyme, oregano, garlic, onion, green pepper, carrot, zucchini, tomatoes and sweet potato. What a nice way to end the day, with such aromas.

I've been meaning to clear up something - well, muddy up the waters is more like it. The missing cat is Leon, not Leo. The cat we've been feeding along with Benny, is Leo. We heard it straight from Dianne, so there is no possibility of error here, and I feel bad for whoever isn't going to see this post and miss the explanation.

Leo and Leon have been coming to our yard and going through it for many years - we could never get near them, but they liked to come here. Once Dianne said that Leo was bigger. After that when I saw one of them and he seemed large, I'd think it was Leo, and when I saw one of them and wasn't sure if it was large, I'd figure it was Leon. Not very scientific. Another time she told me that Leon had lots of knots in his fur, which they couldn't seem to get out. So when Benny showed up, and one of the yellow cats came with him, we noticed so many knots - well, this must be Leon, we thought. My brother, the hairdresser, would sometimes sit with him and patiently brush, and then use his professional electric razor. "Leon" would be so happy, he'd lick my brother's arm. Then "Leo" went missing. 

We have also been in the habit of bringing Benny home in the evenings, if he's here near sunset. Benny, a black cat, is impervious to the dangers of automobiles. He is frequently to be seen in the middle of the road, grooming himself. A car may drive up to him, and he remains unfazed. Frankly, it makes us nervous wrecks, and now with days getting shorter, we just carry him home (across the street and two houses over) most of the time. Anyway, it was on one of these occasions we saw someone in Dianne's family who said that our guy is Leo, and the missing one is Leon (still missing). 

picking basil with Leo

I'm very sorry for the confusion this will cause! We tried to get it right!

Otherwise, after terrible humidity yesterday, today was sparkling. The mockingbirds have been singing their October recitals.

the love amazing

 There was a wedding - a young couple from our church. Many who were not going to the reception still attended the wedding mass itself. Everyone must have felt as uplifted as I did by the end; God was definitely the main character. 

They met in college, and both impressed the chaplain with their faith, self-discipline and sense of community. Three visiting priests concelebrated with our own pastor. 

The recessional hymn was O God, Beyond All Praising; it was a fantastic thing to sing after such an event:

O God, beyond all praising,
We worship you today
And sing the love amazing 
That songs cannot repay;
For we can only wonder
At ev'ry gift you send,
At blessings without number
And mercies without end:
We lift our hearts before you
And wait upon your word,
We honor and adore you,
Our great and mighty Lord.

Then hear, O gracious Savior,
Accept the love we bring,
That we who know your favor
May serve you as our King;
And whether our tomorrows
Be filled with good or ill,
We'll triumph through our sorrows
And rise to bless you still:
To marvel at your beauty
And glory in your ways,
And make a joyful duty
Our sacrifice of praise.

I do love this hymn and have posted it here more than twice, I'll bet. But it's another thing entirely, after a marriage takes place, to all be singing these words together. Especially from "and whether our tomorrows," to "and rise to bless you still", because who knows what path life will take when two people pledge to be faithful to each other? I wish them very well, such nice kids.

Benny naps under the Japanese maple

 on top of the mulch. Sweet little fellow.

suddenly warm

 

a woodland themed towel from Debra!

I figure that normal temperatures for this time of year should be in the mid-fifties. Not this week, though! It is going to be in the eighties for a few days, so here we go, trying to get some more variety in the closet.

I finished my skirt, which is just an a-line with elastic waist - very basic. Now I want to make a dress with some thrifted fabric.

the Mr. Kibble statue holding down the pattern piece

It's a soft brushed cotton, a very small pine green and beige check. I was able to mark it with a piece of soap, since the colors were dark enough to show it up. 

Here's my inspiration, stolen off the internet from here

I cut out a bodice piece from a dress pattern I have, and sleeves from another. I'd like mine a little longer, like below the elbow. I've been trying to figure if I want to interline the bodice to give it more structure, or just line it. I think I'll just line it. I hope it will be something useful! One doesn't always know how a thing will come out, or how well it will fit. It is a bit girlish, but I hope that won't be a problem. 

hopefulness

 There are icicles everywhere. Riding along, you see scads of them, hanging on almost every building. I don't know why some buildings don't have them. It's very cold all the time, but when the sun is bright, I guess there is some melting, because these things are lengthening by the day.

I had finished knitting the hand warmers and gave them to my friend, but I'm knitting another pair with the same yarn. She wears them over thin knitted gloves, and the basic bind-off I use doesn't have any give, really - they could be a little less tight at the opening, and since I have more of the yarn, and they're easy to make, I'm knitting another pair with a different bind-off, and it does seem better. I have a book that's just cast-ons and bind-offs, and it's very handy. Sometimes you buy books you think it would be good to have, and they just accumulate and you wonder why you bought them, but I'm happy I bought this one. 

A year ago, I received a book of Coleridge's poems, which I'd asked for, but they haven't really clicked with me. I enjoyed Malcolm Guite's Mariner, so I guess I'm more interested in the man than in his poetry. But I do like this one which I read today:

All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair -
The bees are stirring - birds are on the wing -
And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, o ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And Hope without an object cannot live.

- Work Without Hope, composed Feb 21st, 1825

And we know from Emily Dickinson, don't we, that hope's the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.

finishing up with the holidays

 Our snow has been gone for a while; the temperatures are in the forties - a January thaw, I guess. There may be a snowstorm brewing for Thursday, but it's too soon to know any of the "ifs": if the storm develops, if it comes our way or goes another. 

I sewed up two panels of red plaid fabric, lined, and clipped them up in the bathroom for curtains. 

I like the sort-of rustic air of plaid, and I hung this wooden ornament on the rod, between the panels. 

I heard mention of The 39 Steps, by John Buchan, on a podcast, so I got a copy of it. A short book, written in 1915, it kept me turning the pages. A man-on-the-run story, written in that very matter of fact style that was more common - well, I was going to say "back then", but I was thinking of the style of Raymond Chandler, and he came later. I mean that plain way of just describing everything without all the emotionalism which saturates the stories of our own day. It's rather refreshing for a change, and I'm going to try the next in the series, called Greenmantle. 

I've been putting away some of the more obviously Christmasy things, but it all takes time. I am in no rush to get rid of Christmas. In recent years, we've had our holiday party afterward, because it's easier to relax and take the time for it. So, I got together with my co-workers the other day and it was very nice. To see young men enjoying the company of older guys and vice versa - it was great. We have a good group.

on the fourth day of Christmas

 I'm enjoying the Christmas rest. We had snow again, on Friday, all night. It's been mostly cold, with a warm day every now and then to throw us off. But the roads were clear for our trip to Joanne's on Christmas Day. It will rain tomorrow and melt everything, and winter will have to start over again.

I got a surprise from England - dear Clare sent me chocolates! (They're almost gone, Clare - already.) 

There seems to be a cat coming to the shelter at night; my brother suspected it, and then I saw him cross the bridge and come through the back yard on Monday, an hour before dark. He jumped onto our back step and looked up at the back door window! I was looking out but, strangely, he didn't notice me - he  seemed to be looking at the curtain - he was being very cautious. He didn't want to be seen. So we're trying to use the front door after sunset, but I worked late on Tuesday and forgot - I heard a hurried scrambling and am afraid I scared him away. He seems to still be using the place, because the food gets eaten, but it may be he's coming later. Poor creature, to be so afraid of us! Where did he come from? 

For lo! the days are hastening on,
by prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever circling years
shall come the time foretold
When peace shall over all the earth
its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world send back the song
which now the angels sing.

- Edmund Hamilton, It Came Upon the Midnight Clear

wool gathering

 

I finished tying the baby quilt today, and it's washed and ready for my friend's little one. I tied it on the "wrong" side, as the floral is so busy - I thought it would just add to it. This gives the whiteness and bit of interest, and hopefully conceal the tasselly ends from their cat - I know how that can be!

Gretchen had asked me what I'm going to knit next, and I thought maybe a shawl, but a friend told me the fingerless mitts I'd made for her years ago finally wore out. So, I ordered yarn to make another pair and am waiting for it to arrive. I remember enjoying making them back then. Let's see if I can do it again without too much head-scratching!

I've been going through my old British Country Living magazines - I kept three issues for each month, not being able to part with them. Until now, but I'm cutting out anything which appeals to me, and putting it all in red folders, one for each month. This will take up way less room! There's a magazine swap bin at the library so they can go there if they aren't too cut up.. A woman named Sally Coulthard had a column every month; she's got a farm and animals and she does country things. Then I saw a book review, of a book she wrote about sheep. I found a copy in a nearby library, and was amazed to find a list of books by her on the back flap - she's written many books! Here are a few. So I guess she's really a writer who also has a farm. 

Anyway, she did lots of research and the book is very interesting. The one I saw in the magazine is called A Short History of the World According to Sheep. The one I have is called Follow the Flock. It has to be the same book. It seems the ancient Scythians were the ones who really mastered the use of felt and they would carry their sheep when they moved around, strapped to the backs of the horses. And, did you know the Romans' shields were covered in felt?  Pliny said, "wool is compressed also for making felt, which when soaked in vinegar is capable of even resisting iron..."  I wonder how true that is.

the maker and keeper of our days

 O God, you search me and you know me.
All my thoughts lie open to your gaze.
When I walk or lie down you are before me:
Ever the maker and keeper of my days.

You know my resting and my rising.
You discern my purpose from afar,
And with love everlasting you besiege me:
In ev'ry moment of life or death, you are.

little Orphan Annie

Before a word is on my tongue, Lord,
You have known its meaning through and through.
You are with me beyond my understanding:
God of my present, my past and future, too.

Sweetie

Although your spirit is upon me,
Still I search for shelter from your light.
There is nowhere on earth I can escape you:
Even the darkness is radiant in your sight.

Daisy

For you created me and shaped me,
Gave me life within my mother's womb.

Mr. Kibble

For the wonder of who I am, I praise you:

Safe in your hands, all creation is made new.*

Dolly and Henry

* words by Bernadette Farrell

a little pilgrimage

 We went on a little field trip to the cathedral in the city, a pilgrimage. 

I had been there for Sunday mass a few times - it's a modern-looking place. But I learned something years ago from watching Sister Wendy's art series on tv. You can just say you don't like a certain painting, or artist, or style, or you can learn something about it, the history of it, and at least have an appreciation and a respect for it. And so, I went on this bus ride with a little group from church. 

old bishop's crozier

A cheerful and friendly priest met us there, and took us all around in an unhurried way, showing us all sorts of things I hadn't seen before. It must have taken an hour, but I didn't look at my watch.

this sort of thing always seems medieval to me - not sure why

The stained glass was all made in France.

It wasn't all so modern, though.

There were a few of these along the sides.

These windows do not have metal in between the colors, as most do, but concrete. The original church was destroyed by a fire, and they were determined to make this new place as fireproof as possible. The pews are wood, but that's about all.

Fr. M. was a well-informed guide. There are several side chapels, and he pointed out some patterns in the marble floor.

This is not a whimsical addition, but a real snail fossil in the stone! 

 St. Patrick has one of the little chapels.

 This statue seems quite old to me -

this is in the sacristy

This is behind the altar

I find it touching. Judgment Day.

the Just Judge

He heard confessions afterward, and then it was time for the noon mass. 

And home, with quiet spirits.

"The jubilee calls for us to set out on a journey and to cross boundaries. When we travel, we do not only change place physically, but we also change ourselves."

sshhhh

 We've seen a rabbit outside under the bird feeder, the past two nights, eating seed. The snow is crusty and hard, the days and nights are frigid and they are hungry. My brother bought timothy hay at Agway, and put some out there, and the rabbit came tonight. I was about to get the dryer going, but decided to wait - the noise and steam might send him away. 

Just trying to help.

keeping it all together

 Well, my time off has been lovely; a friend was over for lunch Wednesday. But then yesterday I felt like I might be coming down with something and I've been resting a lot these two days. It could be allergies, or even resulting from too many late nights and still waking up early - it does catch up with one.

I've grabbed a Jane Austen mystery for entertainment, the fourth one. I tend to forget the murderer's identity when I re-read a mystery, and just enjoy the writing. 

I desperately needed a new bedspread or quilt - whatever. I ended up getting a duvet cover. I don't have a duvet - all these European words that we didn't used to use; I always called it a comforter, or puff - I've got plenty of quilts, throws and blankets, and don't need or want one. My intention in buying this was to stuff it with quilt batting and machine-stitch it. When it arrived, I gave up the idea. It is so tightly woven, like a quality sheet, that it would be a pain to work with in that way. I love it as us, and just lay it over the bed. It's so pretty, and I got it on sale.

The colors blend harmoniously with the overall scheme of the house, which I'm trying harder to stick to.

"One can do nothing, you know, without one pays homage to the genius of the place."

                                           -   from Jane and the Genius of the Place, by Stephanie Barron

summer day

 It rained, heavily, a while ago. I think it's going to be drier after this - the air, I mean. This week we've had a reprieve from the high heat, but it was more humid that before, so the air conditioning was still in use. What would we do without the weather to complain about? But I won't have to water the plants outside.

The Yearling is so enjoyable and I'm surprised at it. Well, these people had a hard life, so "enjoyable" is not the best word, but the writing just brings you along smoothly and willingly. I've noticed it basically consists of lots of short, almost abrupt sentences, which doesn't sound good, does it? But it doesn't seem to matter, it's just her style and it works well. 

"Jody went around the side of the house and took down the milk-gourd from the wall. He felt as light as the gourd. It seemed to him in his liberation that he might spread his arms and float over the gate like a feather. The dawn was still nebulous. A mocking-bird made a thin metallic sound in the chinaberry. The Dominick rooster crowed uncertainly. This was the hour at which Penny arose, allowing Jody to sleep a little later. The morning was still, with a faint fluttering of breeze through the tops of the tall pine trees. The sunrise reached long fingers into the clearing. As he clicked the lotgate, doves flew from the pines with a whistling of wings."

                                               -  Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

I'm thinking of making a plain summer top, something simple that takes a yard or slightly more of fabric, like the One Yard Minimalist Top on Etsy; I have to look around to see if I've got something here. 

This morning I looked down and Daisy was playing with her reddish ball in the kitchen. Honestly, it did try to get through my subconscious that there isn't a red ball, but not quite - anyway, I picked it up to toss into the living room, but - it was a little tomato! That one in the photo above. Yeah, trying to get things off the counter, but it doesn't always work out. Which reminds me: the last time I cleaned the counter, I put some stuff on the table - she was sleeping somewhere. After a while, I turned and she was sitting on the wooden cutting board! I almost tossed it immediately, but I actually Never use it for cutting, we have something else. So, I sprayed with vinegar, etc., and scrubbed. It's mainly useful for resting a large, hot pan on it. So, it's still with us, but if I ever think it may be used for cutting by anyone, it will go into the trash. 

Yeah, she's cute. She was looking into my eyes earlier, and so earnestly, that you can't be angry for long. She tries to belong, she tries to understand, she tries to be good, I'm sure. But for some reason she can't figure it out. Annie does not look deeply into the eyes, she is a simpler being. But she's also a lovely cat. They're good companions for each other and for us.

I am very slowly going through The Distant Mirror, about the 14th century in Europe. I picked it up today, and was surprised:

"Long before Columbus, they knew the world was a globe, a knowledge proceeding from familiarity with the movement of the stars, which could be made comprehensible only in terms of a spherical earth. It was said by the cleric Gautier de Metz in his Image du Monde, the most widely read encyclopedia of the time, that a man could go around the world as a fly makes the tour of an apple... Visually, people pictured the universe held in God's arms with man at its center. It was understood that the moon was the nearest planet, with no light of its own, that an eclipse was the passage of the moon between the earth and the sun; that rain was moisture drawn by the sun from the earth which condensed into clouds and fell back as rain; that the shorter the time between thunder and lightning, the nearer the source."

                                                     -   Barbara Tuchman

another Memorial Day

 It rained much of the day - it's pouring now - so I imagine the parades were cancelled. There were no military plane flyovers, which I always look forward to. We still had our little celebration, though. And I've got some Italian bean and butternut squash seedlings.

BIRCHINGTON CHURCHYARD

A lowly hill which overlooks a flat,
Half sea, half country side;
A flat-shored sea of low-voiced creeping tide
Over a chalky weedy mat.

A hill of hillocks, flowery and kept green
Round Crosses raised for hope,
With many-tinted sunsets where the slope
Faces the lingering western sheen.

A lowly hope, a height that is but low,
While Time sets solemnly,
While the tide rises of Eternity,
Silent and neither swift nor slow.

-  Christina Rossetti

a good Thanksgiving

 

O give thanks to the Lord for he is good, for his love endures forever.

                                      - from  Psalm 136

"manifold and changing business"

 Another weekend with rain; it's a sure thing, every weekend there seems to be a tropical storm in the Atlantic that passes by (not too close, though!) and we get wet. 

I noticed over the whole summer that our rabbit friend comes out in light rain or afterward, when the grass is cool and wet. And today, I saw one near the hedge out my window this morning, and again in late afternoon, just sitting there quietly. They like it. Or, I should say that this one likes it.

It was raining here. 

A moment later, and he was gone. Which was just as well, for one of Dianne's cats came by, sniffing around. He may be getting too old to chase rabbits, and just wants to snoop around; I hope. I like seeing these little neighbors. 

I suppose the local cats are also our neighbors, but in a different way - they have a home. 

There is a very interesting quote today on the Trappist monks' blog, something from Robert Louis Stevenson. But even though I've linked it, I want to put it here:

"the Trappist world appeals to me as a model of wisdom...so infinitesimally is the day divided among different occupations. The man who keeps rabbits, for example, hurries from his hutches to the chapel, or the chapter-room, or the refectory, all day long: every hour he has an office to sing, a duty to perform; from two, when he rises in the dark, till eight, when he returns to receive the comforting gift of sleep, he is upon his feet and occupied with manifold and changing business. I know many persons, worth several thousands in the year, who are not so fortunate in the disposal of their lives...We speak of hardships, but the true hardship is to be a dull fool, and permitted to mismanage life in our own dull and foolish manner."

My apologies to the monks for stealing their blogpost on the day they posted it. 

Meanwhile, I am trying to get away from regular wheat flour, and am re-doing some favorite recipes with gluten-free mix, einkorn flour, spelt, buckwheat, rye, or mixtures of these. It's interesting and unpredictable. 

an overdue visit

 Hurricane Ophelia has been passing by at a distance, and so there's been a couple of rainy days here. I spent some time today switching out some paintings and other knick-knacky things for the season. I can finish another day.

We drove out a way for lunch at some friends' house - my brother was their best man, years ago. They have a lovely home, and I forgot to take my camera along. The closet space in these newer homes is astounding! - but a very nice visit in an old-fashioned and picturesque part of their town. They prayed such a nice grace before the meal, with Bob saying the prayer, but Darlene frequently mm-hmming in agreement; it was so heartfelt.

They have a collection of colored glass bottles here and there - some of them older but not worth much, some in the dark brownish-green, and from around the Revolutionary War period. I've always liked colored glass. We knew an elderly woman when I was a child; she owned a Victorian-era house and had knick knacks on every end table. I loved going there. It wasn't until much later that I began to appreciate having fewer things to deal with when dusting. But Bob and Darlene didn't have too much, but a good balance.

"The fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control."

                                                 - Galatians 5:22-23

a real September day

 A true September day - the stillness of it. I can hear insects repeating themselves in the way they do, but otherwise, it's quiet. No breeze, bright sun. It's beginning to feel like fall. There were asters growing inside the hydrangea and I left them too long; now, instead of rooting them out, all I could do was cut, but at least I was outside for a while.

The online book group is going to discuss H.G. Wells' The First Men in the Moon, and a strange story it is. At this early stage, it seems like a cautionary tale: don't let an over-excited person suck you into their schemes. But I'll reserve judgment in case it takes a turn in another direction.

I made the honey spice cake today for my Jewish friend, and was looking for a container to put the cut-up pieces in, when I remembered these -

Debra gave me a set of six of these foil pans with the beautiful hare design.

Speaking of haired creatures, there's someone who always wants to run in and watch me clean the bathroom sink, tail either hanging over the edge or curled neatly around her.

I know I've mentioned it before. What she has started doing is to chew on any tissues which stick out of the box. That means stuffing it all back inside after pulling one out. What next?

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."