I lately picked up a Gladys Taber book, which is what you do when all around you seems to be falling apart.
"Somehow I feel it is a tradition with children not to like spinach, and I wonder when it started. The dislike seems to go from one generation to the next, spurred no doubt by parents who say it is so good for you. I think if parents would say, 'You are not old enough to eat this', the story might be different."
- from The Best of Stillmeadow: A Treasury of Country Living
So I went to capture it before the rain starts.
G. K. Chesterton on socialism:
"...for my own part, I cannot in the least agree with those who see no difference between Christian and modern Socialism... No reasonable man can read the Sermon on the Mount and think that its tone is not very different from that of the most collectivist speculation of the present day... There is a difference between Christ's Socialist program and that of our own time...
...the modern socialist is saying, 'What will society do?' while his prototype [the Christian]...said, 'What shall I do?' The modern socialist regards his theory of regeneration as a duty which society owes to him, the early Christian regarded it as a duty which he owed to society; the modern socialist is busy framing schemes for its fulfillment, the early Christian was busy considering whether he would himself fulfill it there and then; the ideal of modern socialism is an elaborate Utopia to which he hopes the world may be tending, the ideal of the early Christian was an actual nucleus "living the new life" to whom he might join himself if he liked.
The modern socialist regards Communism as a distant panacea for society, the early Christian regarded it as an immediate and difficult regeneration of himself."
Rejoice, rejoice, believers,
And let your lights appear.
The evening is advancing,
And darker night is near.
- from a hymn by Laurentius Laurenti, in Magnificat, November, 2020
We spoke to a young Polish woman after Mass, who was amazed that America would ever turn socialist. They never thought it could happen here.
The closing hymn at church was Glory, Glory, Hallelujah - I was surprised, but I sang with gusto.
I slept with my window open last night. It is November 7th.
Few phrases evoke as much delight as Indian Summer. Our past couple of days have been sunny, glittering - trees with dried leaves hanging like burnished pieces of old gold. We always call it Indian summer when it gets warm again in September or October, but I read someplace, and I think it was something Tasha Tudor said, that real Indian Summer comes in November, after the frost has come, after it's been cold. This is what Gladys Taber says about it:
"When Indian summer comes, nothing indoors seems important. I must carry my breakfast tray to the terrace and eat in the wine-bright sun. There is always a haze on the hills, making them dreamlike. Perhaps it is such an enchanted time because it is a promise that another summer will come, after winter goes. Actually there is no set date for Indian summer; it comes when it is ready. Sometimes it seems to come after a cold spell in October, but it may even come around Thanksgiving. The later it comes the better, I think - like an extra dividend."
A week ago there was snow on the ground. Now, the days are in the seventies, for a little while. Wonderful.
A few times it's happened that an object suddenly appears, from out of nowhere, but we know the Orphan has brought it. She's scrounged it out of who-knows-where, something we've either never before seen, or had forgotten was in the house.
Once it was a small alphabet block with charming images on it. We can't imagine how it came to be in the house, or where she found it. It's of no use to us; still, I didn't toss it - too cute. Recently some sort of kitchen scrubber showed up. It's like she gets into the basement closets and goes shopping.
So today it was a maraca.
It has taken me all day for the distant memory to return of these maracas I used to enjoy shaking as a kid. Didn't know we still had them. Where the heck has it been?
Of course, the other part of the question is: Did she really carry that upstairs? Really?
For some reason, homegrown winter squash seems more exciting a thing than homegrown tomatoes, cukes or other things we grow every year. I cut into one and can't believe it's the right color inside.
We had forty six trick-or-treaters! I wouldn't have expected any, except somebody said on Facebook there was talk of parents bringing their children out, so we bought candy.
And the little girls said the kitty was pretty. As they always do.
"Autumn had touched the world with the tips of her fingers. In the mornings the valleys were always filled with mist and above them the slopes of the moors, covered with fading heather, were rose-pink. The hips and haws were scarlet in the hedges and here and there the green leaves had turned to pure pale gold. The gardens were filled with Michaelmas daisies and blazing dahlias, the blackberries were ripe and the children were gathering the sloes for winter-prick-wine. Threshing was in progress and in the centuries-old orchards, under the gnarled old trees, the cider apples were stacked in glowing piles. The rhythm of the autumn harvesting went on as usual, in spite of all, and the beauty of it stole into anxious hearts and brought its peace."
- Elizabeth Goudge, The Castle on the Hill
That's how autumn should be.
It actually snowed yesterday, beginning while I was getting ready for work, slowing down around three o'clock. Before Halloween, and feeling like Christmas. It really could have been December, with temperatures only in the thirties! Except it's October.
I took this shot at work.
Today it was like March, with snow melting and mud appearing. But we're glad to see it go; we tend to get nervous here when there's snow in October.
I knew it would be warm today, but it wasn't. It was hot, and the air conditioners were put to bed last week. So I would do some cleaning, and then do some reading. Do more housework, and then watch a youtube video. Balance.
Just a couple of days ago I washed my lightweight summer robe, but it's on me now; I had to dig out a cotton nightgown I'd put away just two days ago.
The oscillating fans were waiting to be cleaned and put in the basement - I'm glad I didn't get around to it. They are both in service at this moment. I know my two bedroom windows will be open tonight. And when I looked outside just fifteen minutes before dark, I saw beautiful goldens and oranges everywhere outside the window.
I saw this poem online today, at Tea with Mrs. Mourning Dove:
REEL
Maybe night is about to come
calling, but right now
the sun is still high in the sky.
It's half-past October, the woods
are on fire, blue skies stretch
all the way to heaven. Of course,
we know that winter is coming, its thin
winding sheets and its hard narrow bed.
But right now, the season's fermented
to fullness, so slip into something
light, like your skeleton; while these old
bones are still working, my darling,
lets dance.
- by Barbara Crooker
My brother sees many people in his work and the talk is often about politics. But when complaints are made about a candidate, it often happens that the customer hasn't gone to the party's website and read their platform. This is frustrating, so with a great deal of time and effort, he got a URL and put as much information pertinent to this election on there; his name isn't on it and he's not tracking anything.
This is it, if you're curious.
Today could only be described as magnificent - deep blue above, bright leaves, in the warm seventies and quite windy. I do like the wind.
Today was very dark and gloomy, with rain pouring at times. But we know this water is needed rather desperately, so no complaining. After, when I came home from work and was moving about the kitchen, my eye kept going outside to the bright swamp maple all orangey, and another maple still green, but with many red-tipped leaves. And the light was yellow-ish - not eerie, not really golden, but a soft yellow tinge over everything. So I took a picture.
I don't think this photo really captures it, but it's all I've got. You'll just have to take my word for it.
My crock-pot is an older model, but it still works fine. I recently had the notion to utilize it more, not only for slow cooked recipes but also adapting others.
I saw something I Never thought I'd see. Sweetie was scratching around in the litter box (we are keeping one in the living room now) and Dolly passed by. She stopped and bopped Sweetie on the head! I was ready to panic, thinking there'd be a fight; Sweetie has always been so unpredictable. Does Dolly remember how for almost four years she avoided Sweetie and was apprehensive all the time? Maybe, but maybe not.
Meanwhile, Sweetie had no problem with it! This whole episode reinforced my confusion about cat behavior. But one thing was plain: Dolly knew what was going on, and so did Sweetie. So what does it matter if I don't? And Dolly is still The Queen.
In the midst of a number of cool days, today came like a warm blessing. Sunshine and rather windy - it was wonderful! I washed a window, and the breezes were so heavenly that I washed another - even though it was nearing suppertime.
"The Christian will be judged, not by his ability to escape from his human tasks and responsibilities, but, on the contrary, according to the fresh meaning which he has discovered in them and the renewed devotion with which he has discharged them...
The keeper of a vineyard dreamed
Of vines alive with fruit
And tended vine and dream alike
Down years of sharp dispute,
As others came to claim the land,
To drink its fruit as spoil,
Without a grower's love of growth
Or farmer's love of soil.
The keeper had a child, firstborn,
Who came to work the land.
The malcontents desired his life
But did not understand -
This life, once it was given up,
This blood, once spilled like wine,
Would soak down deep into the ground
And rise up in the vine.
And then the plant, fresh charged, would be
Itself a vein of grace,
A way the keeper might extend
A hopeful, green embrace,
Connecting child and foe and friend,
Co-mingled an entwined,
To be and bear the fruit of God
In one life-giving vine.
- a hymn by Michael Hudson, from Magnificat, October 2020
Not long after Annie came to live with us, my brother noticed that she'd dropped a ball behind his chair at the kitchen table. They ended up playing fetch, and nobody taught her how - it's just something she knew. She's gone through periods where she'd fetch, and spells where she wouldn't. But lately we figured out that a smallish piece of crumpled paper is perfect for her little mouth to carry and I've tossed as many as ten times to her, with her carrying it back to me. This is awfully cute.
So today I put the camera on the floor, and took my chances. As for the sheet-covered furniture, what you see is what you get.
Did you see her flip over at the end? She seems to like going head first, never worrying about her little noggin.
We were driving along after Mass down an old tree-lined street and noticed a woodchuck strolling on the sidewalk! That was unexpected; perhaps he is a connoisseur of architecture - there are nice old homes there.
It's October, and I'm happy to say it was October-y today, with balmy air and the constant background music from the insects. It's a good start.
My brother reports that early this morning he found a "new" cat toy on the floor and gently kicked it to the kitchen. Later in full sunlight, he saw what it was: A little tomato, still intact. It is the Orphan's work to bring items from the Far Corners of the Earth into the living spaces and she does a good job of it.
Since we got rid of our hawthorn trees years ago (my brother being tired of the needles stabbing him while mowing), the mockingbirds have less reason to come to our property. So I've been happy lately to see one enjoying the bird bath, several times. And that seemed to give his cousin (a cat bird) the idea. So, it's a busy spot with the brook dry, and Diane's cats also come to stand up and drink from it. We're trying to keep it fresh and clean for them.
Sweetie seems pretty cheerful these days; I feel badly about the thing growing in her throat. Dolly's blood sugar is improving. It started out at 412 and after a week of keeping her off dry food it went down to 384. Two weeks later, and after trying many types of higher protein and lower carb wet food, it's down to 343. Dr. Joe wants it below 300, so we go back in two weeks again. Meanwhile, she is so much more alert! This is amazing to us. Behavior we were attributing to old age may well have been due to this. Poor Dolly! She doesn't seem to miss the crunchies, as long as she can eat when she wants (which is often! too often)
"If Christ is formed of our lives, it means that he will suffer in us. Or, more truly, we will suffer in him.
If you are an office worker and the person over you is trying, perhaps rather limited in intelligence, so that you imagine you have some kind of right to be irritable, well, it is not you at all that must be obedient and humble and gracious, it is Christ, Christ, who said to the weak and timid civil servant, Pontius Pilate: You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above.
It really needs to be practiced to be understood. We need to say to ourselves a thousand times a day, 'Christ wants to do this; Christ wants to suffer this.' And we shall thus come to realize that when we resent our circumstances or try to spare ourselves what we should undergo, we are being like Peter when he tried to dissuade our Lord from the Passion."
- Carryl Houselander, from Magnificat, September, 2020
Sweetie is in the house! Diane called this morning to say Sweetie was there, having some dry food with her own cats. She was able to pick her up with no problem and carry her over here without struggles. She was a little hesitant with me at first, but now she is fine, like she never left.
What had happened was I could not get her into the carrier and there was MUCH energetic resistance on her part. When the vet came, I just carried her out to the van - the vet said to leave the carrier outside the van door.
Now, it is a new carrier. I'm not sure I like the design; there are plastic hinges which are unusual and I did have the thought to show it to the doctor, but I said to myself, no, they've seen all different styles of carrier already. Next thing I know, I see her outside, holding the carrier door and Sweetie ahead of her - she just split, and fast. The vet blamed it on the carrier which, she thought, was a lemon. I didn't correct her; I should have listened to that small voice and explained it to her. I didn't even try to follow Sweetie, since she was moving fast.
I do hope she enjoyed her little outing; the first night was quite cold - down near thirty degrees. She knows the area so I guess she knew places to go. But when she came in, she drank a great deal - our brook is still dry and it looks like she may not have had any water source. Right now, she is in front of me while I'm trying to type, rubbing on my face and purring like she never left. I am beginning to think that Clare was right and she was confused and afraid for a while. It's hard to know for sure. I asked her where she went, but she didn't tell me.
I guess we could say this was Sweetie's last adventure, since she doesn't have much time left, apparently. The tumor is growing back; it's not as big as before, but there's no point in removing it, since these things also grow back into the tongue, where it can't be excised. Poor Sweetie. But for now, things are much better than the day before! Thanks for all the prayers! xo
Yesterday the travelling vet came to see Sweetie. Her tumor is coming back in and there's no point to removing it, since it also is growing into her tongue, so - she is okay enough for now, but ...
Anyway, after the examination she got away from the vet and now she's on the loose. It was very cold last night, but she didn't make an appearance. She hasn't had her thyroid medicine for two days. However - just over an hour ago my brother noticed she was on the front step. He called her name and opened the front door, but - she took off.
I pray she'll want to come back in soon, but since she's outside I hope it's because she's enjoying it and not because five or six times I desperately tried shoving her into the carrier (to no avail) and now she is afraid of me. I don't know how they remember these things or are influenced by them. But the fact that she is near is heartening, because we really had no idea where she was. The temperatures will be warmer for a new days and that's good news. Maybe she'll come in when she's tired of scrounging for food around the neighborhood.
A couple of years ago I was at a local consignment shop and they had a long, narrow table. Since I have a thing for long, narrow tables and this was a deal I bought it. I finagled it into my room where it's used as a desk, more or less.
I never used to mind laying out my fabric on the floor for cutting but now I'd rather not. The kitchen table isn't always available, but the other day it dawned on me I could clear off the table and use it. It worked great!
It is the same a-line, over the head dress I've made so many times. Sleeveless again this time, but I've got an idea for some sort of a lace collar and it took me a while to find the lace. (Actually, the other day I was aggravated that I didn't recall where it was and I said, "Guardian Angel, where the heck is that lace?" or something to that effect and then looked up to see some jars above me where I'd put it. That's how they work - they give you an inspiration.) Anyway, the lace above is an ecru and salmon which doesn't show up well here. Something I bought many years ago and it looks very pretty with this fabric. And here is my Pinterest board where I've put a few images of what I'm thinking of, either a lace at the neck or on the hem.
So, I've got to play around with it and decide. And maybe I'll ask Cyndi, who sews way better than I do.
Even when it's pleasant outdoors, inside it can trap the heat; I planned to wash my hair a little while before dark, so I could sit outside with wet hair and enjoy the coolness. I suddenly heard a ruckus beginning, like a pack of dogs barking. Then I realized it was the geese - they are starting their journeys back. There were lots of them and they flew pretty low. Then I noticed two bats swooping in their jagged way, back and forth from our place to the neighbors. I need to sit out more often in the evenings.
God in his beauty stills all our useless struggles and gathers us into his peace.
- from Magnificat
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.
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.
