squirrel visits

 A couple of weeks ago I happened by the front door and saw a squirrel with his head down into the planter on the front step, his little behind in the air. In past years I occasionally had seed in there and immediately thought he was digging for food. Then I realized he must be burying a nut. 

Today I found this. So, did someone else come by to bury a nut? Or did my little friend return to get his little treasure? 

all about food, I guess

 I haven't been here for a week! I'll have to make up for lost time.

After a few years of eating Siggi's yogurt, I'm going back to making it myself. It's way cheaper and I just feel like doing it again. 

  Something I've wondered about is why the instructions so often tell you to use milk that is only pasteurized, not ultra-pasteurized. If they use this method in your country, have you ever noticed how long this ultra stuff lasts? It's amazing. Anyway, there is only one brand at the store where I shop that's simply pasteurized, and I like it well enough; it isn't organic but it's from our state. Still, I finally googled the question. And came upon a New York Times article with some very enlightening comments.

When you make yogurt, you have to heat it up to around 180 or over, then cool it down to around 110. You put in the starter or some from a previous batch and let it sit for hours to ferment. One of the commenters said she uses ultra-pasteurized milk to make hers, and because it's already been cooked enough (I forget how she put it, exactly), she just heats it to 110, adds the starter and continues from there. She skips the first step entirely! I decided to try this. I used a nice organic milk from grass-fed cows but it was ultra-pasteurized. After it had fermented I checked it (what you see above) - the consistency reminded me of Junket (remember that? - I used to love the chocolate one). But after an overnight in the fridge it looked pretty good. I still strained it, as I always do, to make it thicker. 

We found out last week that Dolly is diabetic. Her numbers weren't so high that she needs insulin shots, so we're trying to change her diet - no more dry food.

She is always very anxious about having food nearby. It's going to be hard for her at times, but after a week, her numbers did go down some; meanwhile, we're trying out some higher protein and lower carb brands of the canned stuff and reading a lot of labels. The issue is not whether she'll eat it - she is not a picky eater. But we want food that has quality ingredients. 

The reason we have butternut squashes on the front windowsill is that I picked them too early - a moment of madness I can only assume - and they weren't ripe. But we found evidence online that you can let them ripen in the sun, and they are turning that beige-y color, so I guess it's working. The cats aren't bothered by them, except yesterday I caught the Orphan batting one.

Sweetie found a purpose for them -

pretty cute. It's almost two months now, and she still seems the same. I have no idea what's going on inside of her with the cancer. 

Yesterday was Labor Day - sort of the official end of summer. I made an easy hummus, which recipe I found in British Country Living: basically a small jar of artichoke, lemon juice, can of drained butter beans, garlic and basil. Very tasty with crackers. We also had hamburgers and tomato salad - so many tomatoes.

 I also made scones. To have with the ice cream.

all good things

 "All good things are one thing... That is what I am feeling...now every hour of the day. Sunsets, schools of philosophy, babies, constellations, cathedrals, operas, mountains, horses, poems - all these are merely disguises. One thing is always walking among us in fancy dress, in the grey cloak of a church or the green cloak of a meadow. He is always behind, His form makes the folds fall so superbly."

                              -  Chesterton, in a letter to his fiancee

contemplation

 The bird bath is up because the brook has been dry, and the mourning doves are the ones enjoying it the most. Every day I see one there - the same one, I like to think - sitting quietly, facing out and tail in, usually. They are quiet, simple birds and this seems in keeping with their ways. 

I heard this today in a podcast - the quote is from Josef Pieper, the podcast from Christopher Perrin:

"Contemplation is a knowledge about what is present, and thinking is knowledge about what is absent."

miracle at the grocery store

 I never gave a thought to St. Anthony.

I was at the supermarket, looking at the salad. The ones in the big, rectangular plastic boxes. I suddenly realized I could see out of one eye and not the other - my contact had popped out in a freak sort of occurrence. I rolled my eye around, hoping I'd be able to feel it in there, but - it didn't seem to be in the eye. In fact, I thought I'd heard a tiny "plunk" where it had dropped. 

I knew from experience that it could be caught in my hair, on my mask, sitting on my cheek or in my eyelashes, and I carefully felt around me. I actually removed my mask and was busily searching. Next, I looked on top of the salad boxes, but I didn't see anything. I blessed myself - yeah, in a public place, and I didn't even care - and asked my guardian angel to help me locate it. I kept looking around on the floor in front of me, looking and looking; you can see light reflecting off them if you get the right angle. Nope. I said a Hail Mary - this is my usual procedure when losing a lens. I was calm, but incredulous that it had just popped out in this public place, that I have a week off from work and it would be very hard to do any sewing or anything enjoyable with only one eye, so to speak (that's right, I have No Spare, and No Glasses - judge me if you must) but eventually I had to give up. It had been about five minutes and it was in there somewhere, but it had probably fallen down between a grate under the produce. 

I suddenly realized I hadn't replaced my mask, but the area was unusually quiet. I continued with my shopping, feeling unhappy but telling myself, like Mr. Bennet, that it had been my own doing and I ought to feel it, that I need a new prescription anyway, and other similar things. We finished, and got in line at the register. I could see we were stalled there, and I thought of my contact lens and that maybe I could run over there and look for it one last time. Should I? Should I not bother? 

I Almost Didn't. But something caused me to just quickly run over there and look once more. I picked up a box of salad, and another. I grabbed a third, and there was something on the lid. My lens.

If you're unfamiliar with my history of losing my contacts, you may read this if you like. And I do want to say this: We all have an angel guardian - I am not anybody special. Give yours a thought. They are only too glad to help.

useful footwear

These perforated clogs were a smart purchase. They make it easy to walk in wet or muddy ground - I wear them when I water the garden or have to go out in the rainy yard. They'll also be a help if I ever have to get into the brook (when it isn't dried up).

pretty butterfly

 There was a butterfly on the zinnias. Butterflies are easy to examine, since they aren't concerned with being looked at.

I got out the butterfly identification guide. It seems to be a tiger swallowtail. Except the one in the book has a black border on the wings, and this one doesn't seem to. I googled it. 

Now here you can see some black edging on the underside. I don't know what to think. It seems to be the only butterfly of that color for our region. Well, maybe that just means he's an individual! Aren't we all!

atmospherics

 We've had some misty mornings lately.

There's so much atmosphere to late summer. Let the drama begin.

plugging along

 We are having a soaking rain this evening. It's very welcome, as things have been quite dry. The brook has dried up, which it often does in August, but even the lawn is almost dead in places and scratches the bare feet to walk on it. 

But the zinnias are doing very well, and having bright flowers next to the back steps is delightful.

My floral top only needs the armholes finished off, and will be done. 

Finishing them off with bias tape is always a somewhat lengthy affair. I sew it on, turn it to the inside and pin with all-metal pins (not plastic heads!). I spray it with water, press it, spray, press. I leave it to dry. Another day I remove the pins, spray and press again, pinning it again, trying to get the binding to stretch sufficiently. I baste, spray and press again. About half the time, it doesn't get perfect, and I don't know why. Especially at the neckline, the aim is to get it laying flat, and it doesn't always. I've seen videos of women who sew on the binding and then turn it under and top stitch it immediately. What! How is this possible? So, I labor on. But it's almost done.

A month has passed since Sweetie's diagnosis; outwardly, she seems the same. She is still eating, still a picky eater. She still comes in my lap when she's wanting a snack, she still can jump up to the chairs, the beds, the windows. If she's having pain, I can't detect it, but she still fusses at her mouth after eating. For my part, I searched around the house for Holy Water and found some from Medjugorje, so I bless her with that from time to time. And I bought a flower essence which is supposed to support the immune system - I spray her with this three or four times a day. Yes, she is terminal, I know, but it won't hurt her or interfere with her thyroid medication and I prefer to do something rather than be without hope. 

Lord God, you have made heaven and earth by your great might, with your outstretched arm;
nothing is impossible to you.  Jer. 32:17

I really don't expect anything, but I don't want to feel later like I never tried.

birds and butterflies, cats and Chesterton

I really need to bring a camera when I go into the garden; there was a catbird complaining about something in a nearby bush, and I thought it would have made a cute little film. When I looked around to see who he was upset with, there was one of Diane's fluffy yellow cats - Leo, or Leon - I can't tell them apart. Then as I watered, some sprayed over the zinnias and a monarch butterfly rose up. I need to at least have the thing nearby, in case.

My camera seems to have a smear on the lens, or something. It's old - I need a new point and shoot.

 I've got hold of Maisie Ward's biography of G. K. Chesterton - it's great.

"My great ambition is to give a party at which everybody should meet everybody else and like them very much."

AN INVITATION

Mr. Gilbert Chesterton
requests the pleasure
Of humanity's company
to tea on Dec. 25th 1896.
Humanity Esq., The Earth, Cosmos E.

"G.K. liked everybody very much, and everything very much. He liked even the things most of us dislike. He liked to get wet. He liked to be tired. After that one short period of struggle he liked to call himself 'always perfectly happy'. And therefore he wanted to say, 'Thank you'."

You say grace before meals.
All right.
But I say grace before the play and the opera,
And grace before the concert and pantomime,
And grace before I open a book,
And grace before sketching, painting,
Swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing,
And grace before I dip the pen in the ink.

EVENSONG

Here dies another day
During which I have had eyes, ears, hands
And the great world round me;
And with tomorrow begins another.
Why am I allowed two?

what I wish for my dear country

Oh, come in early morning,

The dew is on the flower,

There's laughter in the woodland,

And music in the bower;

The world is full of gladness,

And sings the Maker's praise,

There's not a note of sadness,

To mar the matin lays.

Oh, come in early morning,

The sun is climbing high;

And all the world is smiling,

Beneath a cloudless sky;

There's not a piping blackbird,

But sings with lusty glee;

There's not a little lambkin,

But frolics on the lea.

- from Magnificat, August 2020

patience and a thimble

 I'm slowly working on my floral top. I had almost forgotten how tightly woven that sheet fabric is; I basted the bias to the neckline with great difficulty, and will probably have to use a thimble when I sew it. 

I guess I'll also have to use patience.

another kind of bunny

My brother took a truckload of debris to the dump today - this is what's left. It's a pretty big pile.

Guess who is on the cover of the new postage stamp catalog? 

My favorite cartoon character. It's the little things, isn't it? 

in the nick of time

A storm came our way yesterday, a tropical storm. The library closed early and I was at home with the cats, Dolly crying because I wouldn't let her in the windows. But the wind was too strong and I wanted all the windows shut in case of flying objects.

A big limb came down in back near the bridge, and the corn, which we thought would soon be ready, was every which way.

But my brother picked it all - there were several ears that looked good, though a little small. I took two, and cooked them. Sweet, juicy and delicious! I'm so glad we didn't lose it. 

Today we had lots of people come in the library hoping we had power so they could do some work. It could have been much worse - it could have been a hurricane.

where the buck stops

"I regret that I have no gloomy and savage father to offer to the public gaze as the true cause of all my tragic heritage; no pale-faced and partially poisoned mother whose suicidal instincts have cursed me with the temptations of the artistic temperament. I regret that there was nothing in the range of our family much more racy than a remote and mildly impecunious uncle; and that I cannot do my duty as a true modern, by cursing everybody who made me whatever I am. I am not clear about what that is; but I am pretty sure that most of it is my own fault. And I am compelled to confess that I look back to that landscape of my first days with a pleasure that should doubtless be reserved for the Utopias of the Futurist."

                                                                   -   G. K. Chesterton

westward expansion

Some of the squash has decided to "branch" out. 

It rooted itself in the lawn outside the fence. 

July's end

My co-worker, who forgot her lunch yesterday said she'd rather run naked down Main Street than eat a sardine. I told her I would mention this on my blog - she said as long as you don't give my name. 

July is over. The air conditioning has been running every day, it's been so August-like all month. The tomatoes are growing larger but are still entirely green. Except that yesterday as I watered the little garden near the house, I thought I spied some red, way at the bottom and behind - one red tomato, on the bottom of a plant and in back, near the house - where the sun doesn't shine! Now how could that thing be first to ripen when it was virtually in the dark? 

It's a year since Mr. Kibble died, and a year since the Orphan arrived.

I have missed sewing, and realized that I could use a blouse or top to go with my blue and white knit skirt. I'm tired of looking online, so I'm intending to make one. I'm going to use an old sheet, and the top section of a dress pattern, and we'll see what happens next - I'm sort of copying something from pinterest.

I keep forgetting to mention that my British Country Living magazine has been coming on time and I realized by ordering direct (instead of through Amazon) I am saving about twenty five dollars a year!

I've been reading Linnets and Valerians with the Elizabeth Goudge book club on instagram. "The drive was long and bumpy but glorious. The heather and ling were beginning to colour and the gorse smelt like peaches in the hot sun." Does gorse, in the hot sun, smell like peaches? I would like to know that.

green bean pickles

So many beans coming in, and I don't want to do the same thing with them every day. I froze some, just in time to find out I don't have to blanch them first, apparently - many say they're better if just trimmed and frozen like that.

But I did blanch some, and then made quick pickles with them.

Lord of all everything

Lord of all hopefulness, Lord of all joy,

whose trust, ever childlike, no cares can destroy;

Be there at our waking, and give us, we pray,

your bliss in our hearts, Lord, at the break of the day.

Lord of all eagerness, Lord of all faith,

whose strong hands were skilled at the plane and the lathe,

Be there at our labors, and give us, we pray,

your strength in our hearts, Lord, at the noon of the day.

Lord of all kindliness, Lord of all grace,

your hands swift to welcome, your arms to embrace,

Be there at our homing, and give us, we pray,

your love in our hearts, Lord, at the eve of the day.

Lord of all gentleness, Lord of all calm,

whose voice is contentment, whose presence is balm,

Be there at our sleeping, and give us, we pray,

your peace in our hearts, Lord, at the end of the day.

-  Jan Struther

Sweetie and other things

My brother went outside to water the garden after work, and thought he heard a rustling or something underfoot. He looked down to a depression which we suppose was made by rabbits and he saw some movement, under the surface. I want to know this: if they're living in the garden, why aren't they eating it?

The little Orphan dragged the lap-sized afghan off the living room chair and into the kitchen, leaving it there on the floor. Sorry I missed that.

The vet called us last week - Sweetie has cancer. It is an aggressive type, and she said she's got three to six months to live. 

patience and trust

Do not fret because of the wicked;

do not envy those who do evil:

for they wither quickly like grass

and fade like the green of the fields.

If you trust in the Lord and do good,

then you will live in the land and be secure.

If you find your delight in the Lord,

he will grant your heart's desire.

Be still before the Lord and wait in patience;

do not fret at the man who prospers,

a man who makes evil plots

to bring down the needy and the poor.

Calm your anger and forget your rage;

do not fret, it only leads to evil. 

For those who do evil shall perish;

the patient shall inherit the land.

- from Psalm 37

"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"

                                                                -  part of a prayer found in Magnificat, July 2020

amazing

This is what I found when I got home today. I can't believe they *all* let him eat his lunch. (by *all*, I mean Dolly). 

know your history

"To not know your history is to remain always a child."

-  Cicero

one of many possible translations, of course

pathways

"A path is a place worn hard by the repeated passing of feet. The repeated passing of familiar thoughts through the landscape of the heart can wear hard paths no seed can penetrate without the saving action of the plow. Critical judgments, blind prejudices, unexamined  beliefs, indifference can all harden the heart to the Word."

                                                       -  Magnificat, July 2020

"To pray every day, whether one feels like it or not; to care for the sick, even when they are fussy and ungrateful; to attend Mass every Sunday, even when the priests give mediocre homilies and the choir needs a lot of work - this is how we sink deep and abiding roots."

                                                     -  Bishop Robert Barron

Thus have you prepared the land: drenching its furrows,

breaking up its clods,

softening it with showers,

blessing its yield.

You have crowned the year with your bounty,

and your paths overflow with a rich harvest;

the untilled meadows overflow with it, 

and rejoicing clothes the hills.

- from Psalm 65

from one thing to another

The fireflies are out there, darting and twinkling. I brought my ipad outside, thinking to film them. I couldn't. Is it possible? But why are people in their houses, not even caring this display goes on every year at this time? This magic.

Dolly would eat all day long - she often falls asleep with her head near the bowl.

We opened the library to the public. Almost everyone tells us how glad they are we're open. One woman who lives across the street said that when she was alone over these few months of quarantine, she'd look over and feel better, knowing we were there, at work. She's a quiet woman - you never know what people are feeling.

I like to look at my magazines that come every month and write down things which inspire me: projects, recipes, images. There was a cauliflower soup; it seemed nothing unusual. Meanwhile, when the whole virus started up and there were gaps in the grocery aisles and we didn't know how bad it would get or what to expect, we bought some canned soups and vegetables. Now, I'm wanting to use up some of this stuff. So today I cooked up a head of cauliflower with tarragon and pureed it along with some chicken gelatin and water, then added two cans of chicken soup and half a can of peas. It was quite good! And all just because I saw a picture of something.

Sweetie had her biopsy on Tuesday, soon we'll see what the results are.

nice for salads

A bottle of fig vinegar I got for half price at the supermarket, for which I'd never pay full price.

that still, small voice

My brother just told me a story; he was intent on my hearing it - it was his confession.

He was not further than a mile away from our home this morning, doing errands, and noticed a dead squirrel in the street that had been hit. He usually stops and moves these creatures to the roadside, so they don't get run over - even though past help, it still seems the right thing. But he didn't listen to that inner voice as he was in a hurry, trying to make good time. When he passed by again, someone had run over the squirrel.

A little later he returned that way and there was a dead hawk in the spot; it had stopped to eat and someone else had come along and hit it.

He knows this was all because he didn't listen to that inner urge.  It's not always easy, is it, to hear that, to be attuned to it?  But he'll remember this.

garden peas

Our own peas!

In Under the Tuscan Sun, Frances Mayes tells of a trip to town, where she passed a woman sitting outside her doorway, cat sleeping at her feet, and shelling a huge pile of peas. "She looked up and rapidly said something in Italian and I smiled, only to realize as I walked on that she'd said, It shouldn't happen to a dog."

After I'd shelled this small amount, my brother came by and wondered why I'd done it. The pods are edible. Well - I had wondered what was different about them! That's okay; I put them in a salad today.

Poem in Praise of the Continental Congress: a Fourth of July hymn

Thank you, Mr. Jefferson,

For bearding the British brass.

And thank  you, Mr. Adams,

Of Braintree (Quincy) Mass.

Carroll and Clark and Clymer,

Harrison, Hancock, Hart,

Printer Franklin and Planter Hall,

I thank you one and I thank you all

For rising up at your country's call

And giving the Fourth a start.

Thanks with gratitude more than cursory

For handing July an anniversary.

What is so rare in these sovereign states

As festive weather on festive dates?

Sneezes hamper the Yuletide kiss.

Autumn glooms on the Armistice.

Easter's certain to be contrary.

Washington picked out February.

But east and west and south and north

There's strawberry shortcake on the Fourth.

So hip and hip and a loud hooray

For glorious Independence Day,

Day auspicious for every comer

Because it falls on the Fourth of summer,

When winds are soft and air's a prism

And climate's conducive to patriotism.

Fathers, I'm grateful when I remember

You might have fixed on the Fourth of November.

You might have chosen August,

When lawns begin to parch,

Defended Man in the middle of Jan.

Or the horrible first of March.

But you thought of parades and picnics,

Of a blue American sky,

Of driving fast in a brand-new car,

Of rowing boats and of breaking par,

And you set it down on your calendar

That you'd choose the Fourth of July.

So thank you, Button Gwinnett,

For a celebration blithe.

And thank you, Roger Sherman,

And thank you, Mr. Wythe.

Hopkinson, Hooper, Heyward,

Livingston, Lewis, Lee,

Merchant Morris, of Morrisania,

Morton, the jurist from Pennsylvania,

I'm happy you surged with that freedomania.

Thanks for the Land of the Free,

For giving us liberty's deathless chime

And a holiday in the summertime.

-   Phyllis McGinley

catching up

Okay, so Sue said that New England cottontails don't dig burrows like European rabbits do. I looked it up, and found this. And after several days of not seeing any, I did see one today. The grass is longer, and we think that's maybe the reason. My brother had cut the lawn and the clover was mostly gone for a while. It's all a guessing game to figure them out.

hydrangeas are blooming everywhere now

Today was the feast of the first martyrs of the church, just about thirty years after the death of Jesus. A devastating fire broke out in Rome and Nero blamed the Christians, about whom little was known but too much was speculation. How quickly things can change in this world, as we all have been seeing lately. 

Next week we open the library to the public. We've been working together, our small group, through these three and a half months, through the trepidations, the confusions, the distancings, the trying-to-figure-out-how-to-serve-the-public discussions, and now it's time to see what happens in the next step. We are still going to offer curbside pickups, and we've tried to think of everything. I think we're going to be extremely busy. And we've got to wear those blasted, stifling masks all day. Sorry, I just had to say that - I don't look forward to it; it's bad enough having the thing on at the supermarket. 

But anyway, I made brownies today to bring to work, to sort of mark the end of this phase. I took them out of the oven too soon and had to put them back in. Twice. They seem fine now. 

Sweetie has been bothered by a problem with her mouth for a couple of months, which we couldn't figure out, but today the traveling vet discovered that she's got a growth in there. So, a biopsy is planned. 

no Mr. McGregors here

We noticed a rabbit inside the garden again a few days ago. So now we think they have an entrance (or exit) to their warren inside the garden, in the middle of the bean patch. Of course, when you start a garden you try to make it so nobody can get in and mess up your intentions, but once they get in, well - we were both thinking the whole idea of rabbits living in the garden is kind of cute. But it's funny that since then, we haven't seen a rabbit. So I googled the behavior of wild rabbits.

For weeks, I would see them every day, late afternoons usually, across the brook, in the back yard between the shed and garden, every single day. But then Diane's cats started hanging around on the hot days, laying in the cool grass, and they must have seen the rabbits. The day my brother was showing me the bean patch, one of the cats was sniffing the garden fence - he knows they're around. They felt safer before, and now are being more cautious.

I did read Watership Down years ago, but until I saw this article wasn't really thinking about their whole underground life. I suppose putting up a fence around a garden would never deter a rabbit - they don't need to get through the fence to establish themselves there; they can just dig up into the space from underground.

I find them too cute to be angry with them. But we'll see what transpires now. It's a good thing we have a kitchen garden close to the house!