praying, mending and reading

I am working on mending a favorite shirt of my brother's; he likes button-down collars and the button pulled away from where it was sewn to the shirt front, leaving a tear. I cut a small piece of fusible interfacing and ironed it onto the back, stabilizing the tear. 

But I feel it should have more support, not to mention it would be nice to cover the white patch on the inside. And if I sew something onto the back, the stitches will show on the front. Or will they? The button will then be attached, and the collar buttoned up. 

This is the front after interfacing it -

No matter what I do, it's not going to look perfect, but I think if I keep my stitches small, it won't show. And he'll be glad to extend the shirt's life.

I am still liking the book on Christina Rossetti. It tells of how the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood began. I guess they were frowned upon by some for seeming to disparage Raphael. I have to say I like their style of art. The medieval flavor, the detail - much of it appeals to me. I came across this Annunciation recently

Click on it to enlarge - the purple wings! What a scene! Of course, it wasn't really like that, but neither was it like Giotto. Art is an interpretation. 

Anyway, to get back to Christina Rossetti, now I'm in a chapter which is including many excerpts from her poetry, and I think I'll have to get a book of some of them. 

I've also been moving through Shakespeare's Cymbeline, which I never read; I'm still trying to finish the Literary Life's reading challenge, and maybe I won't make it, but it's not a race, just a way to enlarge one's reading horizons. And for some reason, earlier today I was remembering the final Brother Cadfael mystery that Ellis Peters wrote before she had the stroke. I don't know if she was planning any more, but this was the twentieth, and I think any other kind of story would have been an anti-climax. I was remembering how beautiful the ending section was, so I took it off the shelf and read it, getting choked up. (no, he doesn't die) I don't want to spoil anything, but he had to leave the monastery for an extended period, and he returns in the middle of the night and goes into the church to pray and wait for morning and the abbot.

He lay down on his face, close, close, his overlong hair brushing the shallow step up into the choir, his brow against the chill of the tiles, the absurd bristles of his unshaven tonsure prickly as thorns. His arms he spread wide, clasping the uneven edges of the patterned paving as drowning men hold fast to drifting weed. He prayed without coherent words, for all those caught between right and expedient, between duty and conscience, between the affections of earth and the abnegations of heaven: for Jovetta de Montors, for her son, murdered quite practically and coldly to clear the way for a coup, for Robert Bossu and all those labouring for peace through repeated waves of disillusion and despair, for the young who had no clear guidance where to go, and the old, who had tried and discarded everything; for Olivier and Yves and their like, who in their scornful and ruthless purity despised the manipulations of subtler souls; for Cadfael, once a brother of the Benedictine house of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, at Shrewsbury, who had done what he had to do, and now waited to pay for it.

I guess maybe that is a bit of a spoiler. When the book came out years ago, I took it home and then got sick with something; I was in bed, with no obligations, no one expected me to do anything, and I was able to immerse myself in the story. And when it came to this ending, it was so moving to me, I still feel that emotion every time the memory returns. 

It's a good prayer list. Especially for "all those labouring for peace through repeated waves of disillusion and despair" and for the young, who have "no clear guidance where to go". 

Christmas lights at Dianne's

 Bill and Dianne's front yard is populated with all manner of lights, shapes and creatures; it's so cheerful. I got some pictures -

I had to walk up there and stand in the road, taking my photos.

It's all so well arranged, very tasteful, I think.

Good job.

incremental living

 Advent began a week ago, and with it I started on the Christmas cards. I figured out that if I do five cards each night, I'll have plenty of time to send them all, with only a minor effort and maybe fifteen minutes spent. So far, it's going well.

It finally dawned on me that I cannot clean the kitchen all in one day. Well, of course I could, if I didn't do much else. I'd rather not do it that way. So I made a list of what tasks cleaning the kitchen consists of, and I do as many of these on kitchen day as I can, and then the next day I'll try and do just one more. And the next, etc. If it's after working all day and I'm tired, I won't, but it's always in the plan, and if I can do it, I will. But, I'm going forward.

It's impossible to get a nice photo of the counter, but I put got Daisy's FortiFlora packets in a Christmas cup and I made room for a tree. The bowl where we save pop tops for a friend has silver snowflakes on it. The red package is a gift of wine, and it looks festive, so there it sits! It looks much better in person. You'll just have to come over. :)

For years, at certain sunny times of the morning I'd notice how dusty the cabinet doors were, but wiping them all down thoroughly is a big deal, and then they get dusty again in no time anyway. After years of this futility, I got the notion to count them; there are twenty seven, plus two sections I also need to wipe down. So now, I just wipe down cabinet number one on the first of the month, the tenth cabinet on the 10th, etc. It takes seconds, and there is no more dust to be seen. On Sundays and holidays, I just don't do it and those get wiped the next month. 

Right now, I'm also trying to bake for Christmas and decorate, so there's always too much going on. And in between, I try to keep up with my reading and sewing. I prefer it this way: doing a little of this and a little of that. It all seems to get done, or enough of it does to make a difference. Does this all seem nutty to you, or does it make sense?

the golden stairway

 I'm lifting this straight from Magnificat, but it's so interesting.

"My mother used to say that the days of Advent were the days of building a golden stairway that would lead us to a star, the star of Bethlehem. And this, in turn, would lead us straight to the Christ Child! In my youth, that stairway was real. Each day I could see and touch each step of it as it was being built. The first steps were made of cleanliness. We began cleaning from the inside out. First, there was the Advent fast: to clean the soul of all its past faults and sins, to make penance for them, to wash it with tears, and the heart with contrition. As in Lent, all meat, milk products, eggs, and sugar disappeared from the family table, to be replaced with fish, vegetables and honey. The parish church became the focal point of our daily lives. ...

But there was a difference. In Lent, the Russian women donned dark garments, took off their jewelry, and allowed no music in the house....Not so in Advent. On the contrary, there was talk of new clothing. There was a flurry of buying materials and of sewing. There was much music in the air, and the practicing of hymns and songs to be sung on the Holy Night. Even the fast itself was one of joyous expectation. Masses, Communions, confessions, and evening services in the church followed one another closely throughout the days. To accompany these inner preparations, outward cleaning and scrubbing went on feverishly all about the house, with everyone humming snatches from ageless tunes. The first to be cleaned and polished were the icons, which shone and became alive under the flickering shadows of the votive lamps - red and blue and green. To my childish eyes, they were the forerunners of the lovely candles on the Christmas tree."

                                              -    Catherine de Hueck Doherty

let nothing hinder

"Upon that way [the way of Advent], we go to meet the Lord as he comes to meet us. The ways lies through our own heart. Let us clear it of stumbling blocks, briars, and dust, that we may travel in freedom and joy and that we may not hinder the Lord's coming to us."

                                                 - from Magnificat, December, 2023

busy-ness

 It's time for baking, and I'm really trying to be faithful to it. There was a butter cookie recipe in my magazine the other day, and afterward I realized I'm so out of practice in rolling out cookies! Some were too thin and several broke apart, I think because I didn't let them cool enough before moving them. Today I baked some with oats, cranberries and chocolate pieces. I didn't have dried crans, so I cut up frozen ones, didn't want white chocolate, so I used dark. I also decided to make them with einkorn flour, which turned out rather interesting. 

Before they went in.

Einkorn feels different than regular flour, it doesn't seem as dry, or flyaway. And they say you should use one quarter less liquid in your recipes, but cookies don't have much in the way of liquid. Two eggs and a tablespoon of vanilla in these. It didn't occur to me to increase the flour but I will do that next time. This flour absorbs liquids and fats differently and you have to take that into account. If you can figure it out. So they spread out quite thinly but I have to say they're good and einkorn is easier on my digestion. It's going to be trial and error for a while.

I took photos of a couple more quilts hanging at the library -

and

This one has some sparkly fabric in it. And lastly, this quilt, which isn't part of the current display, but which was made for the library thirty years ago by a quilt group in town. It hangs above the stairway going up the the children's area. I just love it.

I was thinking since I find Christina Rossetti's poems so appealing, I could maybe find a book about her. So I got a copy of Georgina Battiscombe's  A Divided Life. I like the way it's written, and am glad I had the idea. Funny thing: I got it on Tuesday and was reading chapter one. It said she was born on December 5th. That was the day I was reading it! And today I picked up my issue of Plough - I have to finish it, because a new one should be coming soon - and the article speaks of the influence St. Ambrose had on St. Augustine, and how extremely busy a bishop could be back then. Well, today is the feast of St. Ambrose! Everything means something, but I have no idea what. Still, it is funny. 

Anyway, Augustine described how Ambrose would just quietly snatch moments for reading, in between all the pulls on his time and attention. The article says, "Ambrose has chosen to use his spare snatches of time to return within himself, to become an island of stillness. His reading, certainly, is an example of leisure."

That pretty much sums up Advent, trying to make oases of quiet and stillness in the midst of the other stuff.

creating holy ground

 “What matters in the deeper experience of contemplation is not the doing and accomplishing. What matters is relationship, the being with. We create holy ground and give birth to Christ in our time not by doing but by believing and by loving the mysterious Infinite One who stirs within. This requires trust that something of great and saving importance is growing and kicking its heels in you.”

                                          -  Loretta Ross-Gotta, Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas

St. Nick

It's already the feast of St. Nicholas. There's a quilting group which meets at the library, and some of their winter-themed work is displayed there for the month. I like this one.

 Right above the dictionary stand.

waiting

 The watchmen cry throughout the night,

Reminding God to save, 

Nor shall they rest till early light

Announces dawning day.

As sentinels await the dawn

Let Jacob seek the Lord.

Our souls await the Living One:

Jerusalem restored.

the advent

 "It is a disconcerting fact that while the Lord who comes to us in Holy Communion is exactly the same person who will come to us on the day of judgment, we long for his coming in the one case and dread it in the other. We feel that we know him instinctively now, but then he will be a stranger; that Christ the lover and Christ the judge are two different people. Of course they are not; they are one and the same, and in God justice and love are one and the same thing.

The conditions we know too well today - wars, famines, ideology, betrayal of one another's blood, false teachers rising up on every side to confuse a broken-hearted world - all this will be but the beginning....Then suddenly, unexpectedly, Christ will appear, a King of glory...The suffering, the labor, the patience, that what was hidden will bear fruit, the fruit will be red on the bough....The blood spilt in the dust will blossom like a rose."

                                                      -    Caryll Houselander

busy having fun at work

 In our town there's a winter festival on this first weekend of December every year. Since the library is in the center of town, we have to hustle to get the decorations ready.

Suzy Q wanted more red this year. Red does make a difference.

the servant of life

"To the average man, life presents itself, not as material malleable to his hand, but as a series of problems of extreme difficulty, which he has to solve with the means at his disposal. 

Perhaps the first thing that he can learn from the artist is that the only way of "mastering" one's material is to abandon the whole conception of mastery and to co-operate with it in love: whosoever will be a lord of life, let him be its servant. If he tries to wrest life out of its true nature, it will revenge itself in judgment, as the work revenges itself upon the domineering artist."

                                      - Dorothy L. Sayers, The Mind of the Maker

teapot shadows

The copper tea kettle is in the front window.

The shadows are on the side wall.

a good choice

 Daisy likes my brother's new blanket.

a little neighbor

 I went outside today to survey the kingdom and sprinkle some super phosphate on the bushes. This is an old practice I first learned from Martha Stewart. It's a chemical fertilizer, and I put it on twice a year. Anyway, I found a few red berries on the very small holly bush!

Very few - maybe four or five. But it's doing well!  A chickadee was deedeedeeing at me, unafraid. So I asked him to stick around while I took his picture.

Caught him looking at me there. They're so cute.

the end of the year

The liturgical year, that is. Next Sunday begins Advent; today we celebrate Christ the King. In the course of the year, the church goes through the natural life of Jesus, beginning three or four weeks before Christmas, that is, before he is born, because life begins at conception. And, since he is King, this feast, the culmination of the year, celebrates that. 

 Prayers on the feast of Christ the King -

That the Church will always be a place where the truth, mercy, love, and wisdom of Christ the King shines forth.

That world leaders will see their power as a sharing in the authority of God, and reflect it in the way they govern.

That the culture of life proclaimed by Christ the King will reign in every human heart.

from Meltham parish, England

Upon those who labor under the illusion of power and who cause others to suffer:

                                 - Thy kingdom come!

Upon those who are blind of eye or heart:
                                - Thy kingdom come!

Upon those who are deaf of ear or of understanding:
                                 - Thy kingdom come!

*all prayers from Magnificat, November 2023

the two rascals

 I bought an extra bag of dry cat food; I put it in the basement. 

Not long after, I was down there doing laundry or whatever, and there the two of them were, with a tear in the bag - they were snacking! I brought it upstairs, put the torn bag into a larger plastic bag, tied it up and put it on the fridge. 

Well, Daisy found it up there and was trying to get into that bag. So, I had to pour it into a few small - bite proof - containers.

They've never done this before - must be very tasty stuff.

a good Thanksgiving

 

O give thanks to the Lord for he is good, for his love endures forever.

                                      - from  Psalm 136

preparations

 Well, tomorrow's Thanksgiving, and I've made cookies, the sweet potato pie and the broccoli gratin. The pear sauce (pears were on sale when I was looking for apples, so I made pear sauce instead!) is defrosted. My brother ordered a berry pie from a customer who was selling some frozen ones, so I just baked that. I think that's enough for today. 

There were a lot of dishes to wash. I used homemade bone broth for the gratin sauce and forgot it wasn't seasoned - after it was put together it occurred to me, so I sprinkled some salt over it and will hope for the best. :)

It looked pretty good after assembling.

We'll see what tomorrow brings.

all is not lost

 What I forgot to mention the other day, was that somebody was selling the Christmas issue of (British) Country Living on ebay. The price was pretty good. It came today.

sharing

 From Magnificat -

For those who are blessed with a cheerful heart:
- may they bring joy to others always.

For those who are blessed with a gift for beauty:
- may they lift the spirits of others to God.

For those who are blessed with a gift for prayer:
- may their intercession uphold many.

For those who are blessed with a gift for kindness:
- may they console the sad and lonely.

"For to everyone who has, more will be given", from Matthew 25

magazine solutions

 I made out very well at the thrift stores on Thursday. An off white flat sheet, brown velvet scarf, wood desk organizer, a little mason jar - I never pass those up - an oval mirror with an eagle on the top, rather Federal-looking, and sturdy basket.

This is a figure eight shape, if I can call it that. It looks the same on the back as here on this side. I have three years worth of Country Living (British edition), and some Organic Gardening, Mother Earth Living and Country Gardens which were withdrawn from the library. I thought if I took out the issues pertinent to the season, I'd make better use of them; no sense keeping things unless you can benefit from them. So I put them out, along with a few Tasha Tudor books in a bag on my floor. It didn't look very well. I decided a tall basket was what I needed, but at Goodwill this one caught my eye. Could it be more perfect? The magazines curve into the sides and the books fit in the middle! It looks so orderly and... intentional. I'm working on organizing my desk area now.

About the Country Living - I had a subscription through the publisher, Hearst. Several months ago I noticed that I'd missed a couple of issues; this wasn't always easy to be sure of, since it was coming across the ocean and was often late anyway. I didn't want to claim a missed issue and then receive two because the original was just later than usual. Anyway, I finally thought to look at my account online and discovered it had been cancelled! I emailed, and they told me CL wasn't shipping overseas anymore. This was painful for me, since I love it so much. (an uncharacteristic lack of communication) Anyway, I immediately checked Amazon and they were still offering it! So, I quickly subscribed there. But after a few months they also ended it. 

I can't say I blame them. Since COVID, mail delivery isn't what it was. (Have you noticed that?) They were probably losing money over lost issues which needed replacing. So, I'm going to reuse my old ones until I've exhausted their usefulness. And I actually can see the current issues of it online, with Libby, which is free through the library. 

taking time

 We are having two days with temps in the sixties - how wonderful. I emptied out a bag of compost into one of the raised bed squares. 

It looks pretty full, but beneath it is dry leaves and some branches, sort of a hugel mound; I know it will settle and go down. Lentamente.

I've got the last Anne Perry Christmas mystery - I look forward to them every November, and like most of them. This is it, since she died this year. The main character is a woman in her eighties and I keep thinking that Ms. Perry was perhaps describing herself on these pages? 

After deciding not to use interfacing in my dress (mainly because I didn't have any), I found some in a small drawer where I didn't expect to see it. So, after the facings were sewn together, I cut out a piece and ironed it on. I think it will help stabilize things when I have to slash the back opening.

before I ironed it on

I get an infrequent newsletter from a Benedictine monastery (not the one I've mentioned here before), which I enjoy reading. In this issue is a story - a legend - that coffee was first used as a stimulant in Ethiopia in the 9th century. A goatherder noticed his flock getting excited after chewing on some red berries. He mentioned it to a monk who was have problems staying awake during prayer times, and that's how coffee drinking took off. The author of this newsletter says monks still depend on it when they have to get up for Vigils, which are prayers said around 3-ish. They don't go back to bed after that.

The other day there were leaves of gold all over the street in front of our neighbor's house, near the corner.

"Last night's heavy frost loosened the golden leaves and this morning, when the school bus came, they were falling like confetti. Still it was noon before you could notice any diminishment of leaf on the young maple by the driveway. By that time the sharp-pointed leaves covered the ground under the tree, like ruffled gold feathers covering a bird's body."

-  Rachel Peden

remembering

 Grace Hamman has a monthly newsletter on substack called Medievalish, sent out every 12th. The November one included a beautiful poem/prayer by Christina Rossetti. I tried to find it online because I wanted to know the title, but couldn't find it. It's from a book of hers called The Face of the Deep. I have to post it here, I like it so much.

O Lord Jesus, who knowest them that are thine,
when thou rewardest thy servants the prophets, remember we beseech thee,
for good those who have taught us, 
counseled us,
guided us,
and in that day show them mercy.

When thou rewardest the saints remember, we beseech thee,
for good those who have surrounded us with holy influences,
borne with us,
forgiven us,
sacrificed themselves for us,
loved us,
and in that day show them mercy.

Nor forget any,

nor forget us,

But in that day show us mercy, O Lord,
thou Lover of Souls.

Amen.

The King of Love

 We sang this today at Mass. We have never sung it before, but I was very familiar with the melody - not sure how. 

The King of Love My Shepherd is

The King of love my shepherd is,
Whose goodness fails me never;
I nothing lack if I am his,
And he is mine forever.

Where streams of living water flow
With gentle care he leads me,
And where the verdant pastures grow,
With heav'nly food he feeds me.

We sang only two verses. Where have I heard this melody? It's a puzzle.

And so through all the length of days
Your goodness fails me never;
Good Shepherd, may I sing your praise
Within your house forever.

days go by

 I don't know where the days go. My brother had a birthday, and I've been in the kitchen a lot; I made a gingerbread cake for the celebration, and found a nice recipe for a vegetable pot pie, with butternut squash, carrot, peas, spinach - I used a turnip instead of a parsnip, because I had it - onion, celery. Very delicious! I gave him a throw/blanket.

I don't think the cats can ruin it very easily and it's quite washable. 

The Lord is our shepherd; nothing shall we want. 

fall evening outside

When you're comfortable in the house, and you have to step out briefly and you get chilly - it makes you shrink from going out again. But all you need is the proper attire and it becomes a pleasure to go out. 

It was cool today, but still nice out. I hadn't done anything in the fresh air and it would be dark in an hour. I was going to start on the dinner at four, but I put on my wellies and down vest and went outside to prune the rugosa. 

I have to do this late pruning, because the rose bushes are right near the driveway and I know when it snows, the canes will bend over too far, so I have to cut them. Meanwhile, the sun was getting low and things in the back yard were starting to turn coppery.

Then, my brother helped me with the last slats of the not-so-good raised bed and it was so bracing to be out. The sun was going down across the street.

And then I went in and made the soup.

"The yard is full of yellow maple leaves, turning a reluctant brown but not yet disintegrating. They have cooled all night, soaking up rain or dew, and in the early morning warmth they dry out, rustle again, and give off a pleasant fragrance."

                                                               -   Rachel Peden

to be still and quiet

 Most merciful Father, 

help us to still and quiet ourselves,

confident in your unfailing mercy.

juggling

 I am always thinking about the balance between what you need to get done, what you are able to get done, and the stuff in between that you try to fit in. 

"It is probably one of the compensations for living in an age so dedicated to science that one feels guilty for wanting to study history or French horn or pinking shears. On the other hand, with too much of science and not enough of these other things, our civilization could become like a broken zipper. The zipper key will move forward, neatly zipping up the jacket, but the line comes apart right behind it, so that when you get the key all the way up to the collar, the jacket is still wide open."

                                                                        - Rachel Peden 

it's November now

 It actually snowed yesterday! Around lunchtime - we were at work, it was overcast, with rain predicted. Then it turned to snow for about an hour. Later, the sun came out, which wasn't expected any more than the snow was. 

Like somebody flipped a switch when November arrived. 

This morning the ground was very frosty.

And very pretty.

what next?

 Okay. While getting ready for work, I heard my brother, Come 'ere, come here, hurry!
I thought it must be a bear in the backyard or something. I came out of my room.

He was in the bathroom, and there was Daisy, sitting on the toilet tank, the Kleenex box on her head. Vertically. I mean her head was in the box. She sat quietly so I ran to get the camera. Took a (lousy) photo and removed the box from her head. 

She didn't cry, or struggle. I suppose if we'd been at work, she would have figured it out herself.*

Oh, you should have been there.

*now I'm starting to wonder what really goes on all day with those two