introverts

 I've been reading "Affairs at Thrush Green" and am enjoying it more than I expected to. 

"One blue and white day towards the end of March, the rector made his way towards a remote cottage near the River Pleshey."

One blue and white day - something about that simple phrase is so appealing. Another book I started reading is "Quiet: the Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking".  A library patron recommended it. The author makes the point that extrovert behavior is highlighted and applauded in our society as something to attain to, disregarding the natural inclinations of the individual. I hadn't thought of it like that. 

"A moorhen fled squawking as the rector passed by, its feet making a sequinned track on the surface of the stream. A water vole crossed nearby leaving an arrow-shaped wake as it forged toward the safety of the bank. 

The rector had an observant eye for such details. They added to the joy of his walk which he had undertaken for just such refreshment. He had felt the need for a little solitude, for time to relish the lovely natural scenes about him, free from the intrusion of fellow humans. 

He noted the crinkled bark of the willow trunks, the criss-cross pattern softened by grey-green lichen. He smelt the pungency of water-mint growing in the muddy shallows at the brink of the Pleshey. He heard the plop of small animals making for water cover as he approached, and he saw the great galleons of white clouds sailing superbly across the blue sky above the water meadows, and felt the wind on his face.

He revelled in his senses which brought to him such richness, and thanked God that he still had health and strength to enjoy all five."

                                  - from Affairs at Thrush Green, by Miss Read

I would like to remember the comparison of puffy clouds to "great galleons", next time I see a blue and white day.

Northern Flicker at the feeder

 This is for Gretchen, who says the Northern Flickers who visit her in California don't go to her bird feeders. They do here! 

They come often, but the only shot I can get is this one, with him bent like a C, trying to get food. They fly over, eat a bit and then they're gone, for a minute until they come back. 

my aunt's cameo

 This belonged to my aunt, who died years ago. But she was a favorite, and I asked my cousin a few years back if there was anything of hers I could have. She gave me this. It's from Italy; I take it out at Christmas.

Merry Christmas

 Today in the church calendar we celebrate the baptism of Christ. This morning, Father said it's the last day we can wish anybody "Merry Christmas". 

On Christmas Day to My Heart

To Day:
Hark! Heaven sings!
Stretch, tune my Heart
(For hearts have strings
May bear their part.)
And though thy Lute were bruis'd i' th' fall,
Bruis'd hearts may reach an humble Partoral.

To Day
Shepheards rejoyce
And Angells do
No more thy voice
Can reach that too:
Bring then at least thy pipe along
And mingle Consort with the Angells song.

To Day
A shed that's thatch'd
(Yet straws can sing)
Holds God; God's match'd
With beasts; Beasts bring
Their song their way; For shame then raise
Thy notes; Lambs bleat and Oxen bellow Praise.

To Day
God honour'd Man
Not Angells: Yet
They sing; And can
Rais'd Man forget?
Praise is our debt to-day, nor shall
Angells (Man's not so poor) discharge it all.

To Day
Then screwe thee high
My Heart up to
The Angells key;
Sing Glory; Do;
What if thy stringes all crack and flye?
On such a Ground, Musick 'twill be to dy.

-  Clement Paman

lost mail and poetry

 Well, it's Epiphany already. The Wise Men have arrived at our house.

Lord! Grant some Light to us, that we
May with them find the way to thee.
Behold what mists eclipse the day:
How dark it is! shed down one Ray
To guide us out of this sad night,
And say once more, Let there be Light.

That is from a poem by Henry Vaughan, from a book of Christmas poems which I'm really liking this season. 

Our mail has been messed up, and two of my subscriptions are late. It was reported in the news that the postal service was backed up due to more Christmas mail than usual. But, will it ever come? Or is it lost somewhere, forever? Meanwhile, my issue of British Country Living - the February issue - from England - came yesterday! I definitely am getting better service from them directly than I ever did from Amazon.

Yesterday, the library custodian told me that the fellow who runs the hardware store told him that my brother had been there last week. I told this story to my brother later on. Doesn't it sound like something that would happen in a very small town, maybe eighty years ago? Our town is small, but those days are gone; still, I guess not entirely. 

A CHRISTMAS POEM

One of the oxen said
"I know him, he is me - a beast
Of burden, used, abused,
Excluded from the feast - 
A toiler, one by whom
No task will be refused:
I wish him strength, I give him room."

One of the shepherds said
"I know him, he is me - a man
Who wakes when others sleep,
Whose watchful eyes will scan
The drifted snow at night
Alert for the lost sheep:
I give this lamb, I wish him sight."

One of the wise men said
"I know him, he is me - a king
On wisdom's pilgrimage,
One Plato claimed would bring
The world back to its old
Unclouded golden age:
I wish him truth: I give him gold."

Mary his mother said
"I know his heart's need, it is mine -
The chosen child who lives
Lost in his Lord's design,
The self and symbol of
The selfless life he gives:
I give him life, I wish him love."

-  Dick Davis

a Christmas gift

Trisha made one of these for each of us at work.

A jar of cranberries. You put in water, as much as you like, and the little candle sits on top of the floating cranberries. Charming.

a new recipe, and just in time

 I had some kielbasa and some cabbage, and I was planning supper. Meanwhile, I've been going through some magazines one more time before recycling, in case I there's anything I want to save.

I had an issue of Yankee from the fall, and there was a recipe for roasted onion, winter squash and sausage - it looked good.What timing! Their version called for a large red onion, I used two small yellow. They used Italian sausage, I had Polish. My apple was not firm or tart - I don't know what it was, but it was an apple. And I happened to have some already-cut thick slices of butternut squash left from the Christmas Day lasagna, when I cut up a whole squash but didn't need it all. I used dried herbs and didn't heat them in the oil. In short, I did it my way, and  cooked some cabbage on the stove to go along with it. Did you notice there are actually cranberries in the recipe? I didn't mess with that amount. I was afraid to, since I've never heard of roasting cranberries and didn't want to overdo it. But it was good! I'd gladly make it again. But it did take almost twice as long to cook as they said it would - isn't that often the way?

Christmas musings

 Christmas has been so quiet for us, but it's still always wonderful. We didn't go to Joanne's, no lively visit with the Italian cousins. No rum cake that she always makes, that her mother made before her. I thought about that and decided to make it for work. 

It's not cake, but a kind of trifle. You cut up some pound cake, wet it with a rum/milk mixture, chill it for an hour. Meanwhile cook up some vanilla pudding and pour it over, then let it set. Another layer of cake and rum, then chill. Then chocolate pudding. Whipped cream over all. It came out delicious, but was soggy. I didn't think I wet the cake too much but maybe I did; Joanne's is never soggy. She's had more practice.

The cats are enjoying the Christmas cds I'm playing; Dolly is also enjoying the tree. As soon as I put it up, she seemed interested in it, and I think she remembers it in past years. She lays near it every day for a spell. I say near it because not even a small cat can go under it - a certain young person has climbed it enough times and bent the lower branches down too far. They don't seem to bend back up and it looks pretty dumb but we won't go there today. 

Christmas Eve I made minestrone but wanted something more, so I made some parmesan crackers. I've been wanting to try making crackers for ages - it was pretty easy. I could have kept them in the oven longer, but they were a nice treat. 

I'm still reading the Chesterton biography, still enjoying it. He and Frances never were able to have children, but they loved them.

"On the sands I romped with children

Do you blame me that I did not improve myself

By bottling anemones?

But I say that these children will be men and women

And I say that the anemones will not be men and women

     (Not just yet, at least, let us say),

And I say that the greatest men of the world might romp with children

And that I should like to see Shakespeare romping with children

And Browning and Darwin romping with children

And Mr. Gladstone romping with children

And Professor Huxley romping with children

And all the Bishops romping with children;

And I say that if a man had climbed to the stars

And found the secrets of the angels,

The best thing and the most useful thing he could do

Would be to come back and romp with children."

Look there at the star!

I, among the least,

Will arise and take

A journey to the East.

But what shall I bring

As a present for the King?

What shall I bring to the Manger?

I will bring a song.

A song that I will sing,

A song for the King

In the manger.

Watch out for my flocks,

Do not let them stray.

I am going on a journey

Far, far away.

But what shall I bring

As a present for the Child?

What shall I bring to the Manger?

I will bring a lamb,

Gentle, meek, and mild,

A lamb for the Child

In the Manger.

I'm just a shepherd boy.

Very poor I am -

But I know there is

A King in Bethlehem.

What shall I bring

As a present for Him?

What shall I bring to the Manger?

I will bring my heart

And give my heart to Him.

I will bring my heart

To the Manger.

- Langston Hughes, Shepherd's Song at Christmas          

lovelier than the world can show

Christmas Eve

Christmas hath a darkness
Brighter than the blazing noon,
Christmas hath a chillness
Warmer than the heat of June,
Christmas hath a beauty
Lovelier than the world can show:
For Christmas bringeth Jesus,
Brought for us so low.

Earth, strike up your music,
Birds that sing and bells that ring;
Heaven hath answering music
For all Angels soon to sing:
Earth, put on your whitest
Bridal robe of spotless snow:
For Christmas bringeth Jesus,
Brought for us so low.

-  Christina Rossetti

what's coming

 The snow globe look will soon be gone.

Tomorrow night heavy rains and wild winds are coming. *

A child shall be born for us,

and he will be called God, the Almighty,

every tribe of the earth shall be blest in him.

*That's actually tonight, because I'm up later than I should be.

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.