with Thee one

 We sang this hymn at Mass today and it came to me that if an explanation of the goal of the Christian life was wanted, this would do it.

Be Thou My Vision

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise,
Thou mine inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my treasure Thou art.

getting back to sewing

 I'm working on a summery blouse - Butterick 6455. The fabric is a soft, light yellow gauze type, with a stripe design. I bought it on a whim, and wondered for a few years what on earth to do with it. But it seems well suited to a peasant style top. I am making view A, with the ruffle on the sleeves and the hem. 

Wouldn't you know, when I cut out the sleeves, I mis-cut one of them, so I'll have to find a way to adjust. I do this kind of thing often. But I hope it will look well in the end.

soothing

 It was still pretty light out at five to nine. I was about to close a kitchen window, but pushed up the screen instead and stuck my face out into the cool air; it was so pleasant. And I saw a firefly across the brook, visible in the not-quite-dark. I suppose they must fly around during the day. Or do they know their movements take on an enchantment after dark, and save their efforts for the night? 

I am happy to indulge my fancies after a day of struggling over a migraine. After three ineffectual doses of Exedrin, I tried garlic capsules, which I've found helpful for sinus issues. Now I'm almost giddy with relief. 

I bought this hanging plant two months ago. Is it possible the blooms that were on it then, are the ones still on it today? Because I tell you, I have had no blossoms on the front steps, nothing dried up on the plant I have to pick off. I just realized this the other day. A bloom can't last that long, can it? I must be dreaming. But this is an amazing plant, and look how full it is. I only water it. I have no idea what it is. The one I had last summer was also very pretty, but I had to remove the spent flowers; that's to be expected. 

I am back with Gladys Taber for a while, one of her Cape Cod books. It's very soothing to read her. And I picked up a Frances Mayes, about bringing a Tuscan decorating style to your American home. She's also very soothing to read. And I am finally trying the Fairacre series by Miss Read. I've got Miss Clare Remembers. It's very nice, and deeper than I expected. Not as light as the Thrush Green stories. 

All very pleasant to read when one has headaches and sinus problems.

Independence Day

 I came upon a copy of the Declaration of Independence at the thrift store. I bought it, of course! 

My brother said it hasn't got proper margins; the real one's are properly sized. He's been to Washington. I'm okay with this: it's good enough for me. The frame is nice.

It has the right signatures.

our dearest girl

 Last week Dolly's doctor told us she has a tumor on her bladder, most likely cancerous. He gave her a pain med, which is frankly doing wonders - she seems very comfortable with it. But she might not last more than a year.

So she's not immortal, after all.    I'm sure I thought she was.

a refreshing interchange

 A young woman came in the library the other day - she was maybe, junior high age. She asked my help in finding some books she wanted. One of them was in graphic novel form, and there was no one else around, so I asked her if she really liked graphic novels; I said I thought they were - honestly, I forget the word. But they don't appeal to me. She said she did like them, and thought because she's grown up with them, and I hadn't, that was maybe why. A refreshing girl! Then she said graphic novels were like "the candy of literature", and regular novels were the meat. Ah! I was relieved to hear that she understood the superiority of a full novel but could still enjoy other things. I would never disparage anything a child was longing to read - you don't want to discourage anybody, so normally I keep my thoughts to myself, but there was that something about her which led me to comment. She knew what she liked, and why.

La casa aperta

 I picked up a copy of Bringing Tuscany Home, by Frances Mayes; I don't know if I've read it before - I may have - but it feels new. She's talking about how having the openness of summer life in Cortona influenced the way she lived in her San Francisco home: 

 " A wasp zooms through my study window... A bird flies in one window of my study and out the other. A bee zooms in, drinks from the faucet, and flies out. During lavender season, yellow, orange, blue and white butterflies drift through the bedroom and light on my black shirt drying on a chair. 

 La casa aperta - the open house -  rain blows in the open windows, a visiting cat peers in the living room door...  People come and go as naturally as the butterflies that drift by the mirrors. ..

.Our Cardinali neighbors bring pickled eggplant, dried mushrooms, fruit cordials, and grappa. Chiara comes home...and surprises us with a pensiero, a thoughtful little gift of a shell necklace and straw shopping bag. Beppe brings eggs, still with tiny feathers stuck to them. Lucio leaves yellow squash on the steps, Giusi arrives with cenci, Giorgio brings wild boar. Malva, a fellow Californian drops off apricot jam and home-baked bread."

                                                  -  Frances Mayes

And then I picked up Still Cove Journal, by Gladys Taber, which I just began yesterday:

"In our town, when the geese go over, neighbors call up or drop in. I am used to having friends come in the door and dash for the binoculars without stopping to speak to me. For two days a loon perched on a last sliver of ice (the month of April in Cape Cod), flexing his wing muscles and preening, obviously getting ready for courtship. Neighbors came just to see him."

                                                   - Gladys Taber

La casa aperta, in New England as well as in Italy. It's heartwarming.

healing like a fresh stream

 The other day, after barely overcoming a migraine, I cast around for a book to dive into and there was Island Magic by Elizabeth Goudge. Her first novel, it was better than I expected it to be. 

"they taught us everything there - geometry and algebra and literature and history and -

Soeur Monique interrupted with another snort. They may have taught you but they did not educate you, she said. The function of the educator, she declaimed, is to discover in each individual child the gifts implanted in her by Almighty God and to develop and dedicate them to His service.

Then it doesn't matter if one isn't clever? she [Jacqueline] asked. 

Matter? No, of course not. Why should it? God needs you as He made you and not as He didn't make you. His purposes require us all to be differently gifted. An appalling thing it would be if we were all clever, there'd be no one left with the intelligence to boil an egg or look up a train in a time table.

All this was entirely new to Jacqueline and its healing ran like a fresh stream to all the parched sore places inside her."

                                                      - from Island Magic, by Elizabeth Goudge

"St. Francis was not a lover of nature"

 I'm enjoying this book by Chesterton, about Saint Francis.

"St. Francis was not a lover of nature....The phrase implies accepting the material universe as a vague environment, a sort of sentimental pantheism. In the romantic period of literature, in the age of Byron and Scott, it was easy enough to imagine that a hermit in the ruins of a chapel (preferably by moonlight) might find peace and a mild pleasure in the harmony of solemn forests and silent stars, while he pondered over some scroll or illuminated volume, about the liturgical nature of which the author was a little vague. In short, the hermit might love nature as a background. Now for St. Francis nothing was ever in the background. We might say that his mind had no background, except perhaps that divine darkness out of which the divine love had called up every coloured creature one by one. 

In a word, we talk about a man who cannot see the wood for the trees. St, Francis was a man who did not want to see the wood for the trees. He wanted to see each tree as a separate and almost a sacred thing, being a child of God and therefore a brother or sister of man. But he did not want to stand against a piece of stage scenery used merely as a background..."

                                                                  -   Saint Francis of Assisi, by G.K. Chesterton

birds and berries

 Now we have grackle babies, and I like to see them. I like blackbirds, maybe because they aren't vain.

I also like blackberries.

from the supermarket

Someone returned a Mary Oliver book at the library and I took it home, but haven't got past the first poem.

AUGUST

                                                 When the blackberries hang
                                                  swollen in the woods, in the brambles
                                                  nobody owns, I spend

                                                  all day among the high
                                                  branches, reaching
                                                  my ripped arms, thinking

                                                  of nothing, cramming
                                                  the black honey of summer
                                                  into my mouth; all day my body

                                                  accepts what it is. In the dark
                                                  creeks that run by there is
                                                  this thick paw of my life darting among

                                                  the black bells, the leaves; there is
                                                  this happy tongue.

a furrowed brow

 Dolly is old, and when she washes her face, the fur on her head gets a furrowed look, like she's concerned about something. 

Maybe it's knowing we have to wash her nose for her every day, because she can't seem to manage it. Our dearest girl.

flora and fauna, and a new water pipe

 The workers got their permit, finally, and today they replaced our water pipe. They said they would take out the mountain laurel, and remove two heavy branches in the cherry. 

We have running water, but their equipment is scattered around the yard and there's a mound of dirt, too. But not in the driveway where it was when my brother came home for lunch - they moved it to the front lawn and the driveway is clear. The put back the mountain laurel! 

Meanwhile, we've had baby starlings and robins galore, and there's a rabbit dining right near the back yard vegetable garden, apparently finding enough to satisfy, while we know full well they can get inside the wire fence with no trouble. But (so far), they are content in the grass. 

wondering

We wondered about the reason for fewer cars at the supermarket. But it was crowded inside - funny. We tried to figure out why so many were shopping - it wasn't a holiday. Well, not here, at least! But maybe there are some anglophiles in town who were planning to celebrate this weekend in honor of the Queen. I bumped into this on youtube and enjoyed it. I didn't realize Her Majesty was deliberately wearing bright colors with hats to match, so she could be easily spotted in a group. Very practical, but if you watch the video, note the harlequin dress  - very unusual, but pretty! 

A mockingbird was singing madly in the parking lot, but he was far off and I couldn't spot him. I appreciate his hard work. There hasn't been one singing in our neighborhood yet, but now that we've got some fruit trees planted, maybe they will come around more often. They're not seed eaters, but like fruit (and peanut butter & jelly sandwiches in winter). My brother has planted a white crabapple and a purple-leafed plum tree. Another cherry way in back, though ornamental like the one in the front yard. Some hollies - one or two - and a few box. I was mistaken before about the holly he planted a few weeks ago - they are box, but we have hollies now. I hope they all do well. My hanging plant is doing very well.

I sat on the front step this evening, trying to read a while, and some wind came up. Nearby was the cherry tree and the Japanese maple, my neighbor's maple past the forsythia hedge, and some tall trees across the street. I saw the neighbor's upper leaves blowing in the ripply way you can see in the summer, and then our Japanese maple moved. That was it. It didn't spread to the cherry close by, or go across the street. It was a strong breeze, but only where it was. Not where it wasn't. It made me wonder about the wind. Where it stops, where it starts. How "thin" it might be, or wide. I have no answers. 

I have taken two fabrics, put them together, and am quilting them.  I didn't put any layer in between, and I'm sure you're wondering why. For now we'll see how it comes along, but I'm enjoying the process.

The Easter season is over, with the celebration of Pentecost yesterday. 

"The wind blows where it wills and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know whence it comes of whither it goes; so it is with everyone who is born of the spirit."

                                                       -  John 3:8

the city of God

 "[When] the spirit from on high is poured out on us. Then will the desert become an orchard and the orchard be regarded as a forest. Right will dwell in the desert and justice abide in the orchard. Justice will bring about peace; right will produce calm and security. My people will live in peaceful country, in secure dwellings and quiet resting places."

                                                 -  Isaiah 12:15-18

This sounds ideal to me - don't know about you. :)

simple pleasures

 Last year, Cyndi had told me there was a schedule online of the military flyovers on Memorial Day - I never thought of looking it up - it was always a case of running outside the second you start to hear the rumbling. So I found out they were coming over our town between eleven thirty and twelve. Meanwhile, my brother was out mowing, and one came along early and I missed it. 

The neighboring town had a much earlier time slot, so that must have been it, since we're near the border. But at eleven thirty I headed to the front step with my tablet and a bottle of nail polish, intending to stay for a half hour. And they came. At 11:38 one appeared, flying over our neighbor's property and I got a good view of him. At twelve I came in, but ten minutes later I felt the rumbling and looked out - another pass! 

In between these appearances I was listening to a podcast; they were discussing two books by G. K. Chesterton, Manalive and his book about St. Francis. The point of their discussion was Chesterton's emphasis on the importance of enjoying our lives as a way of expressing gratitude to God, and boredom as an opposite attitude. I can say that when these planes fly overhead, I'm like a kid in my excitement; I wait for them every year. 

Several minutes later, I heard more rumblings, and one of those big helicopters came along, with two regular ones tagging behind. Some years we miss them entirely, so this was really fun! And now I will go back to my Memorial Day preparations. 

Happy Memorial Day! 

not orphans

 From today's Mass readings:

"I, John, heard a voice saying to me: Behold, I am coming soon. I bring with me the recompense I will give to each according to his deeds. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end."

                                                   Rev. 22:12,13 

Alleluia, alleluia. I will not leave you as orphans, says the Lord. I will come back to you, and your hearts will rejoice. Alleluia, alleluia.

slow Saturday

 It was another very humid day today, and a thunderstorm came along in the middle of it - not too bad, and Dolly and I stopped our work and rested while the wind blew the rain against the north windows, and I said my rosary with my plastic beads. A violent storm is an opportunity for praying, or waiting, but not much else. I have a plastic rosary given to me by a priest who got a bunch of them when he was on retreat in the Holy Land; he gave them out one Easter. I always reach for them during electrical storms. 

The Orphan turned three the other day. She's definitely more sedate, or maybe I should say she's less crazy, less often. But I recently noticed she will sleep for hours on a full tummy, which seems a little much for someone so young. I can't help but wonder if she feels left out, watching us give so much attention to the high-maintenance Dolly. Or is she bored in our small house? She has always played so well by herself that we don't feel too guilty if we aren't playing with her, but I think she's been feeling it. So, I'm making her wait longer now between meals and making her play for a while when I have a minute. She already seems better, poor thing. She's so good natured, and I'm afraid she's been wondering where she fits in. That's awful, isn't it? 

I've been reading a book about another of our founders, a man named Gouverneur Morris. I chose this book because I found out he wrote the preamble to our Constitution. I had no idea. The others liked the way he worded things, in the same way they like the way Jefferson worded things for the Declaration. Morris had an interesting life, - spent ten years in France when things were starting to simmer and then boil - I learned a lot about that time from reading this. He seemed sensible and very likeable to me,  despite the fact he had numerous affairs with married women. Why is it easier for me to excuse the same failings in those from the past, than for those alive now? Maybe because the former are in God's hands now, and have gotten their reward or punishment, and being angry with them won't make any difference to anything. 

"To try to do good, to avoid evil, a little severity for oneself, a little indulgence for others - this is the means to obtain some good result out of our poor existence. To love one's friends, to be beloved by them - this is the means to brighten it."

                                        -  Gouverneur Morris, from Gentleman Revolutionary by Richard Brookhiser 

a prayer on the Ascension of the Lord

Loving Father,
because of the
 Ascension of your Son
 our human nature
is now at home with you in heaven.
 May this truth
be our lasting encouragement and hope.  Amen

- from Magnificat, May 2022

a fresh day

 The windows are all open and it's almost cold in the house, but I'm okay with it. It was up over ninety the past two days, and oppressively humid - this bright sun and crisp air is welcome. I can hear a lawn being mowed, birds having a conversation, things are growing - it's wonderful. 

lilacs

 A co-worker brought in a bouquet of lilacs, and they perfumed the workroom at the library. But it wasn't overpowering and I was surprised that it didn't bother me. Meanwhile, I read this the other day - and I hope it's okay to reprint it here. 

LILACS

You stand beneath the lilac bush at night
And smell her heavy blossoms, think, ah, right,
I've caught this scent a thousand times before,
Which, subtle though it is, you can't ignore.
It fills the mind and yet escapes it, too,
As every mystery worth the name will do.
Perhaps that's why, like baby faces, ants,
The curious innards of a marshland's plants,
Like love songs or the neighbor's lab you pet,
No matter how familiar, we still get
A pulse of wonder and a hint of fear
That some ethereal visitant draws near.

-   James Matthew Wilson, from National Review, May 16, 2022

red lentil soup for a damp day

 It really seems like summer has begun early this year, except for today. It was barely sixty and rainy. I made a new recipe for the second time, a hearty red lentil soup on this damp day. I don't remember where I cut it out from, but the paper says it was developed by a Bill Millholland. Thanks, Bill. 

Dice up a large onion, two carrots and two celery stalks, and saute in olive oil for ten minutes. Add three minced garlic cloves, a tablespoon of tomato paste, a half teaspoon of ground cumin, one quarter teaspoon of saffron and one quarter teaspoon of turmeric. Stir around for another minute. 

Add four cups of chicken stock and one and a half c. water, half a bag of frozen spinach and a pound of red lentils, rinsed well. Cook this for twenty minutes. I end up adding another quart of water, it's so thick, so you will, too. It's still like porridge when it's done. One teaspoon kosher salt and a half tsp. black pepper. This is really tasty and filling.

red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet

 We had a bit of a thunderstorm at suppertime. Well, it's been hot and humid for a few days - like July! I wonder if summer has already begun. 

Anyway, the storm. There wasn't much to it, but then while it was sprinkling, the sun came out and you know what that means. A rainbow! 

It was a double - you can see it! 

I have never seen the colors so clearly in a rainbow before; I saw every single shade.

You'll have to pretend that dark spot isn't there - my camera is old. 

It got brighter and brighter; it lasted so long! And then I looked over to the right, and could see the other end 

This is unusual for our neighborhood. It was lovely! 

And now it will be comfortable and in the seventies for a few days. 

prayer for the coming week

 God is love; to Christ we pray -

You are the way:
   - lead us in your ways today and throughout the coming week. 

You are the truth:
   - let truth be our guide in every conversation.

You are the life:
   - teach us to live according to your love.

                 Show us the way we should choose!

                                        -  from Magnficat, May 2022

hanging a plant already

 Ordinarily I'd never buy a hanging plant this early; we usually can expect frosts in mid-May. But the days are actually hot, and this pretty plant at the supermarket caught my fancy. 

Yellow would never be my first choice, but it hangs over the pot so prettily! And that's what matters - hanging plants need to hang. So I guess the color is of secondary importance. I looked ahead two weeks on the Accuweather site, and it seems like these warm temperatures will continue through the month's end. Unless, of course, things change. But this is quite unusual.

Dolly cools off

 We're having very summery weather, like eighty-something, and with humidity. Dolly has definitely been  uncomfortable, restlessly going here and then there, trying to find a cooler surface. After supper it went down to seventy and she was lying on the bare floor in the living room, limp as a rag. On a whim, I grabbed a quilt and her harness, scooped her up and went outside in the front yard. She came alive instantly, and I wish I had a photo, but I didn't want to take too many things. She ate grass, walked around and then sat near me, giving me a little bite on the hand in cat gratitude. We watched people drive and walk by, and we came in when it got damp after sunset, but I've got window fans in two windows on the north side and the house is cooling fast. It'll only go as low as sixty five tonight, so I'll run these till bedtime - they are a little noisy. But she is much better. 

But poor Annie cried from the window. We'll have to see what we can do about that.

new things to plant

 A year ago we took down two trees, and lost a lot of shade in the back yard. We researched different tree types but then the nursery didn't have those. It was hard to decide what to do - we never bought any replacements last fall. 

Well, my brother picked up a white crabapple tree today, and a couple of variegated hollies. The arbor vitaes that are along the side fence are all yellowed, and I think it's from the two overflows we had last summer - here's a film of one. We were told that crabapple trees can take some wet conditions. The little dogwood is totally dead, too! And it did so well last year. It has to be from all the water. 

So the hollies will replace the arbor vitaes and I think the crab will also be on the side somewhere, but we want to get two more trees and more shrubs. 

discovering Rick Bragg, finally

 I had to read a biography of someone living, for my reading challenge. I kept this in the back of my mind for some time - it would mostly likely be somebody I admire, or at least find interesting. But no one name occurred to me. 

I decided to go through the biography section at work, until I remembered that we don't have it anymore; they are all interfiled throughout the non-fiction. So I wandered over to the new books to have a look. 

Over the years, when Rick Bragg's name passed by, I would always feel a pull, and wonder about his writing. Never did anything about it. So I'm looking through the new non-fiction and I see a small book with a dog on the cover. The Speckled Beauty. It's about a beloved dog of his (no, the dog doesn't die at the end.) So, I said to myself, you've always wanted to read something of his, and this looks like a biography - of a dog, but so what? I read it. It was a beautiful story. If you're a dog lover, or an animal lover, you may want to give it a try. Rick Bragg is a poet.

So now, I've got something of his called Where I Come From: Stories from the Deep South. I expect to enjoy it, because of his beautiful story-telling ability. 

"The stories in this collection are of the South's gentler, easier nature. It is a litany of great talkers, blue-green waters, deep casseroles, kitchen sink permanents, lying fishermen, haunted mansions, and dogs that never die, things that make this place more than a dotted line on a map or a long-ago failed rebellion, even if only in some cold-weather dream."

Potato Leek Soup, delicious

 Melt 3 (or 4) tablespoons of butter. Add two leeks, which have been cleaned up and sliced, two stalks of celery, chopped, and a clove of garlic, minced. Throw in some thyme and saute it for ten minutes. Add eight cups of chicken stock, a few potatoes, peeled and cut up (a pound and a half or so), and some tarragon and parsley - dried or fresh, as much as you want, but plenty!). Cover and cook for forty minutes. Press it all down with a potato masher and then add some cream or coconut milk, as much as you like. Put in a bit of white pepper and taste to see if it needs salt. 

Adapted from Food and Wine magazine. I love this recipe, so thought I'd better share it. 

This evening. You can see where they've marked the road, preparatory to replacing the pipe. We don't have an appointment yet.

not much to complain about

 It's May now - surely it's safe enough to put away my boots. 

Everyone I know has high hopes for this month - April was a disappointment, too cool. Today is certainly lovely and will get over seventy, which is above normal but no one will be complaining about it.

I could complain about our sinks draining too slowly. Drano hasn't done much, so the rooter fellow was called. I could complain that he had bad news for us; the pipe underground which goes to the street isn't good. (they're made of cardboard and tar!) The front yard will have to be dug up. We'll have to be without water for a few days, who knows how long. The water company was called and they notified a subcontractor to come out and assess things. 

Well, the fellow said the whole business will take one day - less! They would start 9-ish and be done changing the pipe by lunchtime. An inspector will come (quickly) and it will all be filled in by two! Compared to what my imagination was telling me, there is very little to complain about here. In our state, there is an insurance you can pay into in case of water pipe problems: there are three levels to the coverage and we had the middle one, until our neighbor had bad problems a few years ago. After his situation I decided to up our coverage to the third level, and now I think we won't have to pay anything. 

The mountain laurel will have to go - that's okay, and we may decide to move it, although it doesn't look good. He thinks the cherry tree may get partly damaged by the work, but we'll just wait and see how it goes. All in all, not bad!

paying attention

I had a cold last week, and am shedding the residual effects of it. I reached for a book to read, wanting a pleasant distraction, and picked up L. M. Montgomery's Jane of Lantern Hill. I was just beginning to ask myself if it wasn't too much a children's book and maybe I should find something else. But when Janes's father shows up and they spend the summer together at the shore, the descriptions of their days and the scenery just take over. His car broke down, and he had to hire a horse and buggy, so they got to enjoy the scenery:

"A blithe soul was Jane as they drove away. The glow at her heart went with her across the Island. ...The road was full of lovely surprises...a glimpse of far-off hills that seemed made of opal dust...a whiff of wind that had been blowing over a clover field....brooks that appeared from nowhere and and ran off into green shadowy woods where long branches of spicy fir hung over the laced water....great white cloud mountains towering up in the blue sky....a hollow of tipsy buttercups....a tidal river unbelievably blue. Everything seemed just on the point of whispering a secret of happiness."

The other day I was looking at some clouds and trees and searching for words of description -  could not find any. I'm not a writer - I know it. But I knew that the clouds could have been described in a glowing way by someone like Lucy Maud Montgomery, if not me. There are many things we see, and many moments like she writes of, which are worth remembering in this way. If we try to pay attention.

merrie

 Now the bright morning-star, day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.
Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire
Mirth, and youth, and warm desire!
Woods and groves are of thy dressing;
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

                       -  John Milton,  from Magnificat, May 2022