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?
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.
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."
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.
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)
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
We'll see how it goes.
"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.
Saturday was the feast of saints Martha, Mary and Lazarus. Martha's behavior in the bible story always gets the critical eye, doesn't it? Jesus told her that her concern for earthly things was inferior to a concern for spiritual ones. And we always think of her slightingly when her name is mentioned. As if we are any different.
Anyway, Magnificat had a hymn for that day which shows her in a different light, which seemed rather nice for a change.
Saint Martha, we recall the joy
Of which your energy gave proof,
When opportunity was yours
To welcome Christ beneath your roof.
Alert and eager with much care,
Your ardent soul could find no rest,
In many things solicitous
To please so greatly loved a Guest.
While you prepare a festal board
At which he will have honored place,
Your brother and your sister draw
From him the food of life and grace.
O blessed hostess of your Lord,
Make our hearts ready like your own,
To welcome him to their abode
To find in them true friendship's throne.
- Anselme Lentini *
translated by the nuns of St. Cecilia Abbey, Isle of Wight
From Magnificat, July 2023 -
You have called some to the service of work and some to the service of prayer:
- grant us mutual respect and support as we seek to further your kingdom.
You have called some to serve in public ways and some to serve in the privacy of the home:
- keep us all faithful to the tasks you have given us.
You have called some to serve in active ways and some to serve by suffering:
- sustain us all in faith, hope and love.
in Jesus' name. Amen.
We had a most beautiful weekend, with less humidity and lovely sunshine; we'd been waiting for it all summer. Now the humid air is back, and so the air conditioning. We had a thunderstorm today, too. More rain. The garden is a washout and I think I should get the wood for some raised beds. A long story, to be told later. Rosemary isn't looking too good.
My brother's kitchen garden is better, since the soil isn't as heavy, but the tomato plants aren't getting as tall as they should and the tomatoes are resting on the ground. We have to pick them before they're ripe or they'll rot. This is most unusual.
My dress is barely coming along, but today I finished the understitching. I think I may have to topstitch around the neck edge to make it lay flat. I really don't like doing it. Do people who can whip up a dress in a day or two just ignore the housework? Or maybe they have a cook, or a housekeeper.
A couple of nights ago I saw a few fireflies, so they're still around, but dwindling.
There's always a chance, when you read a science book about a subject, that the romance of it will wane for you - the magic is "explained". This book is very interesting, and the author loves her subject. So, I'll try not to let it spoil my enchantment with fireflies. I know she means well. Books written by naturalists, on the other hand, seem to find a nice balance between the two: science fact and poetry.
"Summer belongs to the insects, and in the drowsy heat of July and August, when I walk southward over the brown road from Morgan Creek to Lone Field, I am never out of hearing of the buzzing of meadow grasshoppers, the whirring wasps. the droning of bees at the old field flowers. Birds sing early. The awakening whistle of quail comes at dawn from the hedges, and in the cool, green woods, the redstarts, summer tanagers, and red-eyed vireos sing long before the heat waves shimmer over the road and the sun has burned away the morning mists. But it is the insects that proclaim high summer, and at noon of days when the temperature rises to more than 100 degrees they are fiercely active."
- John K. Terres, From Laurel Hill to Siler's Bog
"Despite the nervous scramble of the servants when they discover weeds growing in his field, the master of the house himself does not appear the least disconcerted by this sudden report of sabotage. He immediately knows who has sown the weeds, and the calmness of his reaction hints that, even before he sowed his wheat, he must have realized the probability of such a hostile act occurring. Nevertheless, sow it he did....But the real surprise comes at the master's reaction when the servants, overcome by anxiety, want to dash into the field and pull out the weeds on the spot. Rather than becoming obsessed like them with the presence of evil, the serene farmer....does not think that the power of the weeds to choke is superior to the power of the wheat to grow and thrive....
An abstract conception of 'evil' can trigger in us a reckless compulsion to purge our world prematurely "literally so: before the time of ripeness), according to our own notions of purity and impurity. We always assume, of course, that we are ourselves among the pure, the children of the light, and that we are therefore born purfiers; and yet our very compulsion to purify at all costs bespeaks an ignorance of the essential, which is life and its growth, and also betrays an interior fear of contamination. Rather than abiding secure in my identity as son of the kingdom and one born of God, I seek to eradicate what I most fear for myself, what I fear is perhaps already lurking within me.
The master, by contrast, reacts with prudence and patience in the face of evil. While the fanatical servants want to destroy in the name of purification, the wise Lord wants to preserve, in the name of life. His ultimate objective is to save as much as possible for the harvest. The fact that there is disharmony, vitiation, in the field of the Church and of the world is apparent to all, but only the Lord of the field and of the harvest can see beyong the confused present state of things. The disciples are prompt to take purgation (and, hence, God's judgment) into their own hands. But only on God's explicit command may they intervene radically in the stage of the world, when and as he orders. Until the time of the harvest at the end of the age, it is their business to preach the Gospel of repentance, both to themselves and to the world. Jesus' explicit commands to them have nothing to do with judging and purging. Quite on the contrary, his last words to them would be: Go and make disciples of all nations."
- Erasmo Leivo-Merikakis
"The reign of God, sown like an insignificant seed at the burial of Jesus condemned as a criminal, has grown into a tree whose branches embrace the cosmos and all that is in it through the Resurrection. His name, known first to only a handful of followers, is now praised by people of every race and nation."
- from Magnificat, July 2023
Well, I finished reading Kidnapped - I never expected such an abrupt ending! It seemed so strange, that I googled it to see if there is any conversation on the subject. And, as it turns out, there is a sequel! I guess I'll have to read that one, too.
We've had excessive humidity nonstop for what seems like a month; maybe it's three weeks. Usually, the temperature goes up, the air is dry the first day, and if the heat continues, humidity will creep in. After a few days, we get a break. That is more or less how our summers go, and of course things change up year to year. And the brook will often dry up by August. But there is no drought here now - more like rain every day for a spell, and yesterday while we were at Mass, it poured so hard that people coming in had big wet spots on their clothing and water was running like a stream along the side of our property. I just dug up a sad rosemary plant from the back garden which hasn't grown at all since I planted it - at least two months ago. I know these mediterranean herbs don't like a heavy soil, which is what we have; this evening when I went outside to rescue it, there was standing water in the garden. More about that another time.
The side, kitchen garden has better soil and we've got some beans coming in now - they are favas - I've never liked them very well. (I'm a poor sort of Italian: don't like favs, mozzarella, or even cannoli.) But anyway, I'll eat them - it's a vegetable, it's food.
Meanwhile, you-know-who was dropping some onto the floor, from one of her reconnaissance trips along the counter. The sooner I get them cooked, the better.
"Preserve the warmth of the family, because the warmth of the whole world cannot make up for it."
- St. Sharbel Makhluf
The cover, anyway, gives no idea of what's within the pages. I ordered a new one.
With the Literary Life podcast, we've got Kidnapped, which is quite an exciting adventure. Our library copy has illustrations by N.C. Wyeth. Where are the authors like Stevenson today?
Meanwhile, my dress is coming along slowly, and now I have to understitch the bodice facing, which I like to do by hand.
This was in Magnificat a few days ago -
Forth in the peace of Christ we go;
Christ to the world with joy we bring;
Christ in our minds, Christ on our lips,
Christ in our hearts, the world's true King.
It sounds cheerful, and encouraging. I like it!
Blessed of the Lord be His land,
for the precious things of heaven,
for the dew,
and for the deep that coucheth beneath.
And for the precious fruits brought forth by the sun,
and for the precious things put forth by the moon,
And for the chief things of the ancient mountains,
and for the precious things of the lasting hills,
And for the precious things of the earth and fulness thereof,
and for the good will of Him that dwelt in the bush....
Thy shoes shall be iron and brass; and as thy days so shall thy strength be....
The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.
- Gentian Hill, by Elizabeth Goudge, from Deuteronomy 33
Imagine that you're brushing your teeth at the bathroom sink, your head just turns to the left. You meet the eyes of .....
the apprentice.
I should probably go back to shutting the door.
A man came into the library carrying a box of books; said he'd called on Monday, but I wasn't there on Monday; I didn't know about it. He had the Oxford English Dictionary, the whole thing. The Whole Thing.
They were moving. He had a helper, and they brought in four boxes of it; he seemed wistful over the business. He said they're moving to a smaller place. I said well, you can buy the version with the magnifying glass, right? He said It's not the same. A likeable fellow, he was looking at it fondly, said it didn't get used much, but the kids did look up things in it now and again.
He even told me what they're selling it for on Amazon: fifteen hundred dollars. But on ebay, nine hundred. He wondered if anyone would really buy it for that. (I don't know what he paid for his new one) Finally, he sighed, touched one of the boxes a last time, and left. A pleasant fellow.
Afterward, I called the director in her office. She didn't know about it, but no, we weren't going to keep it. The Friends of the Library will try to sell it somehow. But no sooner had I hung up the phone, than she trotted down the hall to have a look. We were touching it. The OED, for heaven's sake! In pristine condition. Then I said, I suppose I should take a picture!
And so I did.
"While you live, I seem to have a bank at Monticello on which I can draw for a letter of friendship and entertainment when I please.
I know not how to prove physically that we shall meet and know each other in a future state, nor does revelation, as I can find give us any positive assurance of such a felicity. My reasons for believing it, as I do, most undoubtingly are all moral and divine."
- John Adams, in a letter to Thomas Jefferson, Dec. 8, 1818
they both died on this date, in 1826
I strained my back a week ago, and didn't feel like going to the supermarket the other day, so I got a delivery. While perusing the specials, I was excited to see tins of crabmeat for half price! It's generally around thirty dollars a pound, so I ordered it.
Crab cakes! I found a recipe, cut up some cuke and tomato and made some quick bean soup. They kind of fell apart, but were so nice and filling.
Today during Mass one of the hymns was a surprise. Several years ago a local radio station played the top forty Christian songs every week, until we stopped listening - I never liked any of them, not liking popular Christian music. Except one, and every time it came on the radio would get turned up. And it's found its way into our hymnal.
And then we sang America the Beautiful at the end. But when, in the second verse it says, Confirm thy soul in self-control, I got too choked up - this seems like a lost concept now.
I just went out across the brook to watch the fireflies. Sunset was half an hour ago, and it's not very dark yet, but getting to be. I stood at the end of the bridge and they began to appear, one or two on the right, and then a few way over into the clearing, flashing and sparkling as they do. Then, a possum (opossum, really) came along from the right hand side. He didn't see me, just traveled along the edge of our property, sniffing at an evergreen shrub. I cleared my throat but he didn't stop. But when I moved, and my keys jingled (I brought them in case I got locked out), he stopped. I stayed still and said something encouraging; he continued over to the brook. They used to put me in mind of a big rat, but I find them rather endearing now. I was glad to see him.
According to Silent Sparks, by Sara Lewis, adult fireflies live only a few weeks! How many strange things there are in this world. I'm grateful for the yearly show.
"Home! It showed you its face when you sat quiet within it at that moment when daylight was passing to night, but it could only reveal its spirit, its eternal meaning, when you stood at a little distance, just turning to leave it or just returning to it, seeing it at that transition moment when a larger world was claiming or releasing you. It was always at these transition times, it seemed, when for a moment, nothing owned you and you owned nothing, that you saw things so very clearly."
- Elizabeth Goudge, Gentian Hill
"Be careful to never let your heart be disturbed or get involved in things that upset it, but always work to keep it calm. In this way the Lord will build in your soul a city of peace, and your heart will be a place of delights. Every time you get upset, Jesus simply wants you to come back to silence and calm yourself again in all your works and thoughts."
Well, the humidity is way up, and it feels like summer, all of a sudden. Because yesterday it was down in the sixties.
I have a new thermometer outside my window, with a humidity needle. I'm not sure the percentage of humidity interests me, just the feeling of it. My energy levels decline as it goes up. But yesterday it felt drier and I made good progress on my linen dress. I like the way it's looking, except that I didn't line up the back center seams: for the top and the bottom, since the dress has a horizontal seam in the back.
I ripped out part of it, hoping I could shift things and correct it, but it didn't work. Blast! I don't want to re-do the seam; I'll leave it and learn from it, hopefully, but I won't cry over it. Speaking of crying, though, I could sometimes cry over things like this:
Cats who play on bedsheets.
I am also trying really hard to move along with my summer quilting project, and have been picking it up while listening to podcasts or whatever. I've got a few colors of embroidery floss: pale yellow, deep gold, taupe, off-white. Whatever suits my fancy, and I sometimes put them close, other times further apart.
And, when the time comes to bind it, I think the blue linen of the dress will go very nicely, and there is plenty of it.
I finished the Isabella Stewart Gardner book.
For supper, we had a tuna sandwich recipe I haven't made for a few years, but it seemed special for Mid-Summer's Eve. Right now I hear baby birds chucking outside and robins laughing. It's good.
"I have a naturalist's love for the road that winds from Muskrat Pond to the borders of Big Oak Woods. In June, the poet's month, I follow it for two miles southward, past fields white with elderberry and Queen Anne's lace and trumpet creeper in scarlet flower. Cardinals and mockingbirds sing from the roadside thickets and bluebirds warble softly from the sky. In the early morning, when the dew sparkles on the grass, I hear the wild, sweet singing of the field sparrows and the first daylight calls of the quail."
- John K. Terres, From Laurel Hill to Siler's Bog
There is almost no time when a rabbit will not be seen in our yard.
There's a lot of clover in the grass.
We're glad they like it.
Yesterday. In line at the supermarket, and, going through. the cap to the liquid laundry detergent popped off and detergent ran out. It went all over the checkout area, where the bagging takes place. My brother was bagging and he helped the cashier wipe it all up, but liquid soap? Not so easy to clean up. (Thank God, no fragrance!) I ran and got another, but what a strange thing!
At home, I was unpacking the groceries and I realized the long shrink-wrapped cukes felt soapy. And so did one of the bags. I had to rinse everything in the utility sink in the basement. With Daisy's help. She arrived in time to watch the water go out of the sink.
Meanwhile, my brother has ripped out many of the tiles in the tub area, and it has to dry out thoroughly before he can put them back, so it's sponge baths for a while. I helped him out by scrubbing the tiles clean; this took a while, and I ended up stabbing a screwdriver into my palm. Not as bad as it sounds! It wasn't sharp, so didn't hurt so much. I just have to keep it clean (which is a bit hard with hands).
