I'm all for that longer celebration

 

I've picked up Elizabeth Goudge's Towers in the Mist, and found that St. Edmund Campion is a character in it - I hadn't looked at a synopsis beforehand. So it's more historical than some of her others.

I'm doing well with my mending and today fixed a torn flat sheet. 

Do you see that the tear is an L shape? I used to try and stitch those on the machine, but they end up being bunchy and looking like they will just tear again. So I found someone on youtube who says you should do it by hand. I did, and it does look better, but I don't know how it will hold; I'm ready to make a patch if need be.

After a day of rain, today was in the mid-fifties - the snow is gone. But Sunday afternoon we may get more, and with ice, which seems to be a theme this winter. Snow and ice. 

I took in the silk poinsettias and cleaned them - they look fine, and I'm glad I thought to put them out there for a bit of cheerfulness.

"One of the things about our own topsy-turvy time is that we all hear such a vast amount about Christmas just before it comes, and suddenly hear nothing at all about it afterwards....I am going to plead for a longer period in which to find out what was really meant by Christmas; and a fuller consideration of what we have really found... There is no modern legend of what happens just after Christmas; except a dismal joke about indigestion and the arrival of the doctor." 

                                    -  G. K. Chesterton

"If it is treated as such, it is because the modern world does not know what Christmas really is and why it is worth celebrating in the first place."

                                -    from Winter Fire: Christmas with G.K. Chesterton, by Ryan Whitaker Smith

knowing the way out

 "Christendom has had a series of revolutions and in each one of them
Christianity has died. Christianity has died and risen again;
for it had a God who knew the way out of the grave."

G.K. Chesterton

a bit about St. George

 Well, it did snow yesterday to freshen things up a bit and the cold continues, with today being the coldest - but it didn't end up as cold as predicted. And, as we came out of the grocery store we felt a very fine snow again! It continued for a few hours and now it's all a beautiful soft white blanket out there.

Daisy has been helping me pack away some of the Christmas things.

I'm sure I don't need to elaborate.

There's a piece about St. George in Magnificat this month which surprised me. As we all know, Shakespeare died on his feast day, April 23, and was either born or baptized on that, too. And there are the legends, that he slayed a dragon. That's about all I ever knew of him.

The article says he died around the year 303.

this book is lovely, by the way

"Saint George is generally considered to have been a soldier-martyr under Diocletian. He was canonized in 494, but gained enormous popularity during the Middle Ages as one of the Fourteen Holy Helpers, who were specially invoked during the Plague....George is also a beloved patron of England, in whose battles he has a long tradition of miraculous intervention. As recently as 1914, British soldiers, about to be overpowered by a larger German force, reported a winged army around them, calling upon their leader: either Saint George or Saint Michael, depending on the account. The German infantry paused their onslaught, and the British forces escaped destruction. Later, German prisoners mentioned their surprise at seeing the British using longbows again."  emphasis mine

What a story!! 

The above book was illustrated by the late Trina Schart Hyman, whose work I love. I also am fond of a book of John Updike's poetry about the seasons, for children, also illustrated by her.

January

The days are short,
The sun a spark
Hung thin between
The dark and dark.

Fat snowy footsteps
Track the floor,
And parkas pile up
Near the door.

The river is
A frozen place
Held still beneath
The trees' black lace.

The sky is low.
The wind is gray.
The radiator
Purrs all day.

-  John Updike,  c1965.

Simple in their descriptions, but greatly enhanced by Trina's wonderful paintings.

cats and things

 I'm working on adapting a new bedskirt to my day bed; I always have to cut off one long edge and attach some of it to a short edge. 

I found it where I get all my bedskirts - on ebay. This one is so pretty with the crocheted lace.

I enjoy reading Christina Rossetti's poetry and admire her gift, but many of them are on the same theme: lost love. I'm in the "lyric poems" section, so maybe things will be different in the other parts. I also have a biography of Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., and it's way more interesting than I expected it would be. The author seems to be a friend and has nothing bad to say about him, but that doesn't seem to get in the way, since every chapter is full of details for each situation described. I think there are still many in this country who do not know he's running for President. The press hardly mentions him. 

It's so cold this week, that the iced bushes from Tuesday's storm still sparkle in the sun. And tomorrow another inch or two will fall - not ice, just snow. 

I just finished a charming children's book I've always wanted to read, called "Whittington", by Alan Armstrong. 

This is the cover; you can tell why it intrigued me - the cat. Not to mention the fellow in his Renaissance garb. Well, turns out it was a Newberry honor book, and worthy of the recognition, a very enjoyable story about the life of Dick Whittington and his cat, legendary figures to British schoolchildren, I guess. Of course, it's fictional; Dick Whittington was a real mayor of London back then, but there is a cat in the story who is the real person of interest. However, the author found that Mr. Whittington did not come from a poor background; it seems his story got mixed up with a poor boy's and the cat may have been his. I don't know, but this book was well-written, going back and forth from our age to the fourteenth century. 

Another important cat, our Annie. I actually managed to get a fairly nice portrait of her, a very pretty girl.

And I'm still with the Chesterton Christmas book. It's supposed to be for Advent, but since I received it at Christmas, I am reading it now.

The world will never starve for want of wonders, 
but only for want of wonder.

- G.K. Chesterton

contrasts

 I only worked half a shift today - we've got snow. Not a lot, but mixed with wetter precipitation and temps in the twenties, everyone was nervous about slippery roads. I took some pictures.

It's those bluish gray tones and the dark of the bark.

And the red of the barns and the flags.

shortening winter

 "The best way to shorten winter is to prolong Christmas."

- G.K. Chesterton

Eternal Light

Eternal light, shine in my heart;
Eternal hope, lift up my eyes;
Eternal power, be my support;
Eternal wisdom, make me wise.

Eternal life, raise me from death;
Eternal brightness, make me see;
Eternal Spirit, give me breath;
Eternal Savior, come to me.

- from Magnificat, January, 2024 

enjoying it while we had it

 We had a snowy day at last. I'll call it a Christmas snow since we are still in the "greater" Christmas/Epiphany season. But it went quickly, after a warm day and then rain, more rain. 

I often wonder how my raised beds are doing out there, in so much wet. It rained again overnight, hard, and the wind howled; I was surprised the barrels stayed upright. It ended up a warm day, though, and I even opened some windows. But now the cold air is coming.

Meanwhile, the Three Kings left - they never can stay long because of Herod. So things are quieting down. 

I wanted some color outside and there are these silk poinsettias I don't seem to use in the house - I stuck them in the dirt, and there they have been at least two weeks. They're like the mail carrier: outside in sleet and snow and all weathers, uncomplaining.

that deep, Christmas red

 There is a very nice shop in town, and I like to at least go there before Christmas, when they have a good sale. 

This year I noticed that the shade of red they choose is consistent year after year.

The napkins were purchased several years ago, after the holidays; they were on clearance. They're so nice, they don't need ironing, but are cotton. I got the center table runner a year ago, and they look fine together.

This year, I bought four placemats in that same red, with white snowflakes on them. Very nice.

wintry thoughts

I had forgotten how cold everything seems after a snowfall.   This is not a complaint! 

 A WINTRY SONNET

A Robin said: The Spring will never come,
And I shall never care to build again.
A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome,
My sap will never stir for sun or rain.
The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow,
I neither care to wax nor care to wane.
The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago,
Because earth's rivers cannot fill the main. -
When Springtime came, red Robin built a nest,
And trilled a lover's song in sheer delight.
Grey hoarfrost vanished, and the Rose with might
Clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core.
The dim Moon brightened. Ocean sunned his crest,
Dimpled his blue, yet thirsted evermore.

- Christina Rossetti

the season of Epiphany

" Epiphany is a season especially set apart for adoring the glory of Christ. At Christmas we commemorate his grace, in Lent his temptation, on Good Friday his sufferings and death, on Easter Day his victory, and on Ascension Thursday his return to the Father. And in Advent we anticipate his second coming. In all of these seasons he does something or suffers something, but on Epiphany and the days after it we celebrate him as an august and glorious king. ...

 As great men of this world are often plainly dressed and look like other men - all but as having some costly ornament on their breast or on their brow - so the Son of Mary in his lowly dwelling; and in an infant's form, was declared to be the Son of God most high and the Prince of Peace by his star, a wonderful appearance that had guided the wise men all the way from the East, even unto Bethlehem. The only display of royal greatness, the only season of majesty, homage, and glory our Lord had on earth was in his infancy and youth."

                                                           - St. John Henry Newman, from Magnificat, January 2024

about the Baby

 I like the way the nativity is set up in church this year; it's a bit cramped-looking, actually, but somehow more dynamic. The three kings are very close by, but it creates a pathway of sorts in between them where you can see the Baby.

When I typed "baby" above, I got that double blue line which tells me something's not right. When I changed it to "Baby", it went away. Isn't that surprising to you? That it thought I should spell baby with a capital B? I hadn't thought it was necessary there, but guess I was wrong. 

The Baby and his mother

Happy New Year!

 I often intend to post something here, get sidetracked, and then find I'm too tired. I need a better plan. 

I discovered a most delicious and mainly healthy treat which I brought to our cousin's for Christmas. Here is the recipe , if you want to read the post, but I can tell how to make it, it's so simple.

Gently heat half a cup of natural peanut butter, a quarter cup of maple syrup and three tablespoons of coconut oil. When it's all melted, remove from the heat and stir in a half cup of grated coconut and one cup of Rice Krispies. (get the generic brand - Rice Krispies are over six dollars a box!) Spread in a pan and chill in the fridge for twenty minutes.

Meanwhile, using a double boiler, melt one cup of dark chocolate chips with one tablespoon of coconut oil. When the peanut butter mix is cold, spread the chocolate over, and chill it for two hours at least. 

This stuff is way more than the sum of its parts - it would make you well-liked at any gathering. Delicious.  Of course you can use other nut or seed butters, or crunchy peanut butter, and I'm thinking if you don't want the grated coconut, try crunchy peanut butter and more of the cereal. Good luck cutting it as neatly as the recipe's author; I don't know how she did it. I just broke it apart. It will get sticky if left out, so keep it cold. But do try it! 

*The recipe says to use a 9x13 pan - that is too big; it won't spread that much. I used something a couple of inches smaller. But it would be easy to double it, and then I'd use the nine by thirteen.

I've been thinking about The Hobbit for some reason lately, so I picked it up, and it's been so long that I really didn't remember most of it, so it's like I never read it before. 

In the past week or two, we've seen large flocks of blackbirds along the main road in the mornings. Hundreds. The ones I saw were grackles, and I'm not sure why they're moving in such a large group at this time of year. I used to see them in November, thinking that some left the area for the winter (but am not sure they do). We saw them on Friday and later my brother said when he went to his car at lunchtime (he comes home for lunch every day) it was so covered with droppings, he had to go first to the car wash. So this afternoon I looked out and there were thousands of blackbirds swooping around our neighborhood, not a starling murmuration but just flying around in groups from tree to tree, maybe lighting on the ground for a bit. I got my camera and starting filming. Wouldn't you know, the film I thought was the best one, didn't film! I must have stopped it without realizing. But it was quite amazing, and we have never seen it before like this. I found this online from a year ago. 

A small number of them came back later, but that's all. 

It's been snowing since before eight - we're finally having a real snowfall, still in time for Christmas. I was afraid it wouldn't happen. 

Winter is the mother-nurse of Spring,
Lovely for her daughter's sake,
Not unlovely for her own:
For a future buds in everything;
Grown, or blown,
Or about to break.

- Christina Rossetti

finding the Babe in poverty

 "As our houses are deluged in a cascade of cosy Christmas images, glittery frosted cards and happy, holy families who seem to be remarkably comfortable in strangely clean stables, we can lose track of the essential truth: that the world into which God chose to be born for us was then, as now, fraught with danger and menace."

                                                     - Malcolm Guite, Waiting on the Word

Then did they know assuredly
Within that house the King did lie;
One entered it then for to see,
And found the Babe in poverty.

- from The First Noel

the birthday of the Sun

 A very Merry Christmas to everyone who reads this blog. 

a welcome gift

For the Old Year's sands are well-nigh run;
This is the Birthday of the Sun.

- Walter de la Mare

May the Lord bless all your comings and goings today.

He's here

We sang People Look East at Mass this morning:

"Make your house fair as you are able; trim the hearth and set the table."

a beautiful tablecloth from Goodwill 

part of an arrangement in the living room

"People, look east and sing today. Love, the guest, is on the way."

When peaceful stillness compassed everything
 and the night in its swift course was half-spent,
 Your all-powerful word bounded to earth from heaven's royal throne.

- Wisdom 18: 14-15 

it's here

 

The week flew by and I don't know where to.

tomorrow

It's the last of the O antiphons tonight, O Emmanuel. Together, they have a message.

 O Emmanuel
O Rex          
O Oriens      
O Clavis      
O Radix       
O Adonai     
O Sapientia  

Ero cras  =  Tomorrow I will come.

 (from Waiting on the Word, by Malcolm Guite.)

so much to do

 The little tree on my desk at work.  

one more week

 

I had Mary and Joseph on a small shelf above the sink. Then one day I heard a *clunk*; the Blessed Mother had taken a fall. Now they are right in the window, and that's where they'll wait for the Baby. It's all good. I don't think Daisy - did you doubt it was she? - will reach up so far, so they should be safe.

And let each heart prepare a home
Where such a mighty guest may come. 

"In Christ, not in ourselves, lies the source of all our joy in this Advent season - and always!"

- from Magnificat, December, 2023

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.