holiday warmth

 

My green Lands End scarf and red hand warmers made from the sleeves of a thrifted sweater. 

fourth Sunday of Advent

 While I was working on dinner, snow began to fall and it continued for several hours, coming down gently. It was beautiful! And Christmas-y.  I stepped outside a few times to get photos - always of the same view, but that's my view! 

And while I worked and while it snowed, the radio just happened to be playing Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker. How perfect! It may warm up and possibly rain on Christmas, so I'm happy to see this now, at least. 

I made a simple and very delicious crockpot salmon for the third time. I am always nervous about fish, not wanting to over-cook it and I have baked salmon successfully, but still don't feel confident about it. If you've got two hours to spare, this is just right. Basically, you line the slow cooker with parchment, lay lemon slices along the bottom and place the fish on it. Generously salt and pepper it, add some dill weed, then pour a cup and a half of veg stock and the juice of half a lemon over it, with some more lemon slices, if you want. Cook on low for two hours. Lovely! We had salad, roasted cauliflower and twice-baked sweet potatoes with it. I don't need to make dessert because my brother's been getting goodies from his people. We sampled a few cookies and some chocolate truffles. But not too many. 

And in case you're wondering, the Polish lady has given us the gingerbread, and it's in the freezer. 

Drop down dew from above, you heavens,
and let the clouds rain down the Just One;
let the earth be opened and bring forth a Savior.

the sublime and the ridiculous

 I would love to have a Christmas tree in every room, but can't figure out how yet - too much clutter, I guess. Still, in the kitchen I put a small, rustic tree on a catch-all shelving unit. The little tree has lights, and is really cheery there, so I always make room for it. 

Next to the cat dishes.

ten inches

 

It sifts from leaden sieves,
It powders all the wood,
It fills with alabaster wool
The wrinkles of the road.

It makes an even face
Of mountain and of plain, -
Unbroken forehead from the east
Unto the east again.

It reaches to the fence,
It wraps it, rail by rail,
Till it is lost in fleeces;
It flings a crystal veil

On stump and stack and stem, -
The summer's empty room,
Acres of seams where harvests were,
Recordless, but for them.

It ruffles wrists of posts,
As ankles of a queen, -
Then stills its artisans like ghosts,
Denying they have been.

-    The Snow, by Emily Dickinson

the reason in this season

 See the rope? It's making sure nobody can take down the tree. See that furry one there? It's the reason for the rope.

more butter

 A few days ago I was somewhere online, not sure where but it may have been Instagram, and somebody had made scones. She said she used more butter than called for - maybe double? - and she always does that. My thought was how unnecessary. 

Meanwhile, yesterday I baked some scones from my little scone recipe book. Gingerbread scones - sounds delightful! I baked them for the minimum amount of time called for; they came out dry. I mean, baking them for less time wouldn't have improved them much, the recipe really needs  -   more butter. 

I've made scones many times, and have noticed some are softer than others - fat content, I guess - but never made any which seemed too dry. It's funny that it happened right after I made that judgment. I guess her scones really needed more butter, and she knew it. And I have to work on not being so critical. :)

rejoice

Rejoice, rejoice, believers,
and let your lights appear.
The evening is advancing,
and darker night is near.
The Bridegroom is arising,
and soon he will draw nigh,
Up, pray, and watch, and wrestle:
At midnight comes the cry.

an early morning surprise

 It's sixty degrees out; for Wednesday some are predicting a big snowstorm. But it's not a certainty.

At five thirty this morning I got up to make a trip to the bathroom and noticed my brother's light on; when he heard me moving about he said, "There's no water." He was online, trying to find a number to call. The water company is rather elusive, it seems. On their website there's only the regular customer service number, which wasn't allowing him to leave a message - it doesn't seem to work! I dug out a recent bill but that was the same number.  He called the police station and found out a big water main had burst and half the town was without water, so he went out to buy some. When we got up again later the flow had at least returned but was dirty, and I still don't trust it. Have received two emails from them since, both of which had an emergency phone number on it - so, why isn't that number on the bills, or their website?? I wrote it down. 

And I do remember last Christmas, when we didn't have water for a while. Doesn't exactly impart a feeling of confidence.

she was purring when I shot this, happy in the box

I used to make a point of bringing my camera with me - now, I hardly think of it. Consequently, I have to rely on my powers of description. Yesterday, Deb and I went to a lovely shop which has been in our town most of my life but recently moved to a different location, after being in someone's home for over fifty years - now run by her granddaughter and granddaughter-in-law. Isn't that nice? It was quite gloomy out, foggy and rainy, but they had a brazier going with seats near it for shoppers who might be waiting for their companions, fir trees ranged along the way, some with lights, and one with moving branches, as I spotted a bird making itself cozy in there. 

I've been struggling to put up the tree, with a certain purrson wanting to help me. She still wants to climb it, and she's not the little kitten she was last year, so any thought of getting a tree with lights that work would just end in ruination and despair, since she has bent some of these downward where I can't figure any way to bend them back. We'd managed to find one string of lights last Christmas, when only one-third of the tree didn't light, but by the end of the season none of them did. However, this fall a stop at a tag sale found me a very long light strand for a couple of dollars - it's more than enough to light the tree! So the wooden snowflakes are up with the orange slices, and it's beginning to look like something. 

But it's Gaudete Sunday, and I love that song from the Medieval times - makes me feel like dancing. And this one's even better. :)

getting ready for Christmas

 It was supposed to rain Saturday, then they said it would snow, and it did. And it's still white, because it's cold, too. 

I'm getting back to making bread again. I always stop in summer. Then there's the tasty supermarket bakery "artisan" bread in the reduced section for half price. I like it, so as long as it was available I didn't need to make my own. But I was missing it. We had to withdraw some older bread machine cookbooks at work, and I took them home, adapting recipes for regular oven use. So far: an oatmeal bread Saturday, and today an oat/wheat bread, substituting a cinnamon-orange simple syrup for the honey it called for. Very fragrant! I love to try new recipes.

I tried drying orange slices. Four hours at 200, and they still weren't entirely dry. 

Not quite what I expected. But I want to try again. I guess some people just let them air dry, but I haven't got a space for that, so I'll have to find a better "recipe". 

We just heard that a 7-CD boxed set of the works of Paul Desmond was released earlier this year. Don't tell Dolly! She'll want it for Christmas. 

stuff and bother

 I thought it would be nice to exercise my brain and do some memory work. This hymn was sung at Mass Sunday, it was the first Sunday of Advent, it's an Advent hymn, so. 

The words are in a book I've had for a number of years; I focus on a couple of lines every day, and at this point I've (almost) learned the first section. 

Wake, awake, for night is flying,
The watchmen on the heights are crying,
Awake, Jerusalem, at last!

Midnight hears the welcome voices
And at the thrilling cry rejoices:
Come forth, ye virgins, night is past!

The Bridegroom comes, awake,
Your lamps with gladness take, alleluja!
And for his marriage feast prepare
For ye must go to meet him there.

Okay. Today I thought of it, didn't have the book with me and couldn't remember something, so I googled the lyrics. I happened on a Catholic site, and - guess what?  Well, this song was written in another language. So, there are translations. So, I landed on a different translation. Oh, brother!

 A fine kettle of fish. Here I am, trying to do something worthwhile, and - this. I'm Catholic, I suppose I should know the Catholic version, the one which is sung in church. Except, I'm not sure which it was because last Sunday was before I started memorizing it. And the hymn books are gone, along with every else that's put away because of COVID. So. 

Then there's the fact that I have become attached to these words I've learned. Oh, for Pete's sake. 

a new beginning

 Well, it's Advent, and I'm glad. 

The Lord will come and not be slow,
His footsteps cannot err;
Before him righteousness shall go,
His royal harbinger.

Truth from the earth, like to a flower,
Shall bud and blossom then;
And justice, from her heav'nly bower,
Look down on mortal men.

- John Milton

"You, O Lord, are our father, our redeemer you are named forever. Why do you let us wander, O Lord, from your ways, and harden our hearts so that we fear you not? Return for the sake of your servants, the tribes of your heritage. Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, with the mountains quaking before you, while you wrought awesome deeds we could not hope for, such as they had not heard of from of old."

-  from the book of Isaiah

"Thus says the Lord: I will return to Zion, and I will dwell within Jerusalem"

-  from the book of Zechariah

And this hymn, again. 

a good day

 

Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers. To everyone else, you should adopt this holiday, it's lovely. 

far more than the family dinner

 "Of course, Thanksgiving is far more than the family dinner and the national festival. All people have always had harvest celebrations of one kind or another, so there is nothing distinctive about a feast time after the crops are in. But our Thanksgiving seems very close to our relation with God. It has a deep religious significance not always spoken of, but, I think, felt.

I am thankful for love, and friends, and the family gathering together. For starlight over the old apple orchard. For the chilly sweetness of peepers in April. For my winter birds, so brave, so hungry, and particularly for my little chickadee with the bent wing who bangs away at the suet cake right while I type. He cocks a shining eye at me and seems to say, 'Life is really what you make of it, eh?'

And it is good to take time to be thankful, for it is all too easy to let the world's trouble sweep over one in a dark flood and to fall into despair."

                                                                           -   Gladys Taber

a fancy cat

 When Orphan Annie came to live with us, my brother showed a photo of her to a client - the lady said she must be part Russian Blue. Well, she isn't remotely blue colored, she's kind of a dark warm gray; when she was young you could see faint stripes, and I thought she might be part tabby, but not a Russian Blue.

Her profile, even from the first, always brought to mind those ancient Egyptian cat statues

although, honestly, I don't think the above photo shows it. I'll keep trying, but she does move around so! Anyway, then Clare said something which made me do a bit of research. 

I had put up the video where Annie is playing fetch with me, and I said we'd never taught her this. Clare said there might be Burmese in her. I looked it up.

Well! Rover has a very interesting article, and almost right away something got my attention: They are heavier than they appear. Bingo! This little cat weighs a ton! I always marvel at it. In fact, they are referred to as "silk covered bricks" - yes! Her fur is so flat and shiny it doesn't seem to require combing. This article also mentions the fetching, and other dog-like behavior and cute personality. 

The cats in the photos don't look like Annie, their faces are rounder. The article says there are American Burmese (rounder faces) and British Burmese (more angular faces), so maybe she's a British. They are supposed to have yellow eyes; Annie's eyes are yellow with a green ring around the pupil. They were yellow when we took her in, though. 

Then I wandered over to an article on the Russian Blue. They sure had her angular facial features. They also have faint stripes when young! And, they all have green eyes when fully grown, but first their eyes are yellow with a green ring! 

Well, if she's got Russian Blue in her, it probably isn't much, but I believe she's got lots of Burmese in her. I don't think her eye color will change anymore, but it's pretty funny to me that a fancy cat just sort of ended up here with us. Thank you, Clare, for sending me down that rabbit hole!

new customer at the drive-thru

 The bird feeder went up this week, and then I saw an unfamiliar bird there. I thought at first glance it was a chickadee, but it had a stripe along the head unlike the chickadee. Small and roundish like a wren, but it was gray, not brown. I got the bird book.

"borrowed" from the internet

A red-breasted nuthatch. We are used to seeing a different kind of nuthatch, the white-breasted - very different looking, with a white face. 

But I did think of a nuthatch when I saw him go upside down on the pole, like nuthatches do. 

I wonder how common they are, since the feeder is up every winter and I like to look up new (to me) birds - this cute fellow I don't think I've seen.

bright leaves, bright bird

 This morning I sat by the window to put on makeup and saw such pretty bright leaves on my neighbor's apple tree. I got the camera - I guess you can sort of see them. 

Then a cardinal was suddenly on the tree, right in the middle.

eat your spinach

 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

the last brights of November

As I move about the house doing my thing(s), my eye is always drawn out the window to a patch of bright color at the edge of the brook. It really jumps out at me in contrast to the quieter tones of November's usual offerings.

So I went to capture it before the rain starts.

golden leaves

Soul Cakes

 November is the month we remember the souls of those who have gone before us, and may need some help before they reach everlasting joy. 

There was a recipe linked on the Aleteia website , for - Soul Cakes!  Have you heard Sting's winter album? He sings a song called "Soul Cake". I love it. It's old. 

I made the recipe last night. Of course! It was sixty thirty but so dark out that when I realized it was early, I got to work baking. They are a shortbread, very nice flavor, with currants. We ate a couple, and now the rest are in the freezer.

a commentary of sorts

 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.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored
He has loosed the fateful lightening of His terrible swift sword
His truth is marching on. 

Glory, glory, hallelujah 
Glory, glory, hallelujah 
Glory, glory, hallelujah
His truth is marching on

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps
I can read His righteous sentence in the dim and flaring lamps
His day is marching on

Glory, glory, hallelujah
Glory, glory, hallelujah
Glory glory hallelujah
His truth is marching on

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me
As He died to make men holy let us live to make men free
While God is marching on

Glory, glory, hallelujah
Glory, glory, hallelujah
Glory glory hallelujah
His truth is marching on

Glory, glory, hallelujah
Glory, glory, hallelujah
Glory glory hallelujah
His truth is marching on.

Also known as The Battle Hymn of the Republic.

Indian summer

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.

one-stop shopping in the bargain basement

 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? 

I voted

 I got one of the fancy ones this time, and put it right in front on my Thanksgiving Dottie Angel dress.

the real thing

 

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. 

another Halloween

 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: how it is and how it's supposed to be

 "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. 

half-past 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

everything you need to know

 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.

 nothing to do with the election

blue sky, low sugar and easy stew

 Today could only be described as magnificent - deep blue above, bright leaves, in the warm seventies and quite windy. I do like the wind. 

it was really bluer than this

I washed another window; it was a heavenly experience! Rain tomorrow, and then below sixty on Saturday; I was so fortunate to have this lovely day off.

Great news: Dolly had her blood tested again and it's down to 195! I'm amazed! This is about a hundred points below my expectation. 

I made stew in the crock-pot today - I definitely prefer it on the stove, where I can have more control while it's cooking. But the trade-off is that I was able to work around here all day and not have to think about dinner afterward.

a warm light over all

 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.