The grass is entirely green now, and all it takes is a warm day. It had begun to turn a couple of weeks back with those two days of warmth, and then stopped the greening when it cooled down. This week was enough to finish it - it makes such a difference, to see green grass all around! And the maples have their red buds all over them.
And Easter is coming.
I heard a question on the radio the other day - they wanted to know if anyone could guess which president said this: "The nine most terrifying words in the English language are, 'I'm from the government and I'm here to help.'" I said to myself, that sounds like something Reagan would say, and I was right. Good old Ronnie. Life was simpler then.
I thought I would've had some seeds started inside by now, but you can only do so many things in one day, and Sweetie's condition has been occupying my mind a lot this week; she took a turn for the worse over last weekend and can't seem to eat by herself anymore. So, we fish her out of whatever corner she's hiding herself and squirt some thinned-out soft food in her mouth a few times a day. She can still drink from the water bowl on her own. The vet's coming on Monday, and I hope she can help us figure out a way to clean her - she doesn't groom herself and she is dirty and smelly, poor mite. But she's so hostile to any kind of messing with her little person - she really is the most difficult cat I've ever dealt with. But I feel sorry, and I think she understands we're trying to help her when we disturb her so often. If she can be sedated so she can be bathed that would be great; it's a terrible situation but today she came out from hiding for a bit and scratched on a cardboard scratching thing. The reason she hides is not because of her illness, but because she does not like being bothered so often by us - this I know. The vet ordered a pain med for her which should arrive soon. We'll see. She still enjoys hearing the chant CDs I play every day.
The reading challenge I'm taking part in requires a book written in ancient Greece or Roman times, or one about those times, or even just a novel taking place during those times. I looked around the library and settled on The Roman Way by Edith Hamilton, published in 1932. So interesting! What Charlotte Mason would call a living book, I think, which means non-fiction written in a narrative style. I have never been attracted to those cultures very much - I prefer the middle ages. Still, a chapter from this morning's reading was about Cicero, and apparently we have eight hundred of his letters.
"Cleopatra. How I detest the woman. You know she lived just across the river from me for several months." (maybe she snubbed him!) He says that Brutus was charging forty eight percent interest on money he's paid to the people of Salamis! It's becoming more appealing to me - I guess I'm warming up to it. Lots of gossipy stuff.
I could have worn a sleeveless shift today. It was well over seventy and it's still warm - sixty. After chopping the soup vegetables early in the day, I never made the soup. Who need it on a warm day? It's not unheard of in March - very warm temperatures like this happen every, oh, every ten years or so. I always hope for it.
It was also the Annunciation of the Lord.
The Just One has descended like dew from above; the earth has opened and the Savior has sprung up.
- Isaiah 45:8
Some more earthly things are springing up - a friend pointed out a crocus in our front lawn, and a little cluster in the bed where I'd planted some a few years ago.
A delight.
Dolly gets so fretful, wanting food All the Time, but then you give it, and she wanders away, seemingly inviting you to bring the dish to the new location. But then maybe she still doesn't eat it, and what you realize (but why should it take so long, when you know she's a music lover) is that she really wants to Hear something. So you put the radio on, right next to her (if you don't, she moves closer to it anyway) and it's quite obvious she's really listening.
This was Kenny Rogers singing The Gambler. She just likes music, even Kenny Rogers. I didn't care for it, but the classical program was over and the jazz one hadn't begun yet. And I wanted the ipad myself for a change, so I couldn't stream anything for her. She got quiet and settled down immediately, poor little thing. She just wanted the comfort of the sounds, I guess. And maybe she has a little Spring Fever.
This thing is almost done; it may serve as a cat mat. We will see. Meanwhile, I'm trying to do my state income taxes, and the mending pile gets higher.
We had a baptism during Mass today - a wee little one, born not more than two months ago, probably less. He was quiet throughout, except he did cry from the (cold, I presume) water. It was good to be a witness to it, to hear the prayers for the parents and be reminded by Father to pray for him.
I saw this on Instagram - a quote from Johann Sebastian Bach, whose birthday anniversary it is today: "Without my morning coffee I'm just like a dried up piece of roasted goat." Well! One tends to think of these people as superhuman, but - I guess not.
I washed another of my woolly turtlenecks today - there's another warm-up coming and I can't imagine it's going to get much below forty again during the day.
When I wash something like that by hand, I use the right-hand sink in the kitchen. Afterward I kept seeing patches of water on the floor, which I supposed I'd dripped as I carried it to the table to wrap in a towel, but I'd wipe them up and more would appear. I was beginning to wonder about my sanity and then we discovered a leak under the sink. Not very welcome news, but my sanity is intact for the time being.
For Lent, I've brought out all my religious CDs, many of which are Gregorian chant type things - it can be monotonous to play them all day, but I know that it's prayer which is very suitable for this season. Then I stumbled on a youtube video of an exorcist (Fr. Chad Ripperger) who said that demons really can't stand the chant. The exorcists can often play the music and the demons will leave the afflicted person without an exorcism having to be performed. This made me appreciate hearing it even more; funny, though - it doesn't deter the Orphan from pestering Sweetie! I'm not sure what to make of that.
I couldn't stand to make another meatloaf today, so we had fish.There was plenty of Thousand Island dressing left from the Reuben sandwiches, and I like to use these fancy dressings to spread on the cod when I bake it, so that's what we had, and it surprised me how delicious it was. We can have meatloaf tomorrow.
I heard this poem the other day and even though our March is nothing like this, I can pretend -
Written in March
The cock is crowing,*
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter
The green field sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!
Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The plow-boy is whooping - anon-anon:
There's joy in the mountains;
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone!
- Wm. Wordsworth
*Actually, this morning Dolly was on my bed and I thought I kept hearing her cry, but wasn't sure. Finally, I realized it was the rooster who, with the chickens, was pecking around outside the back door.
This is what I came home to -
which of course reminded me of a crime scene. But she revived after a little, and seems to be her usual self. And there was no blood, for a change.
Money laundering: a dime went through the wash. That reminds me of a joke an older gentleman told me last week at the library - How does an angel light a candle? *
Easter is two weeks away.
"Hold fast to your duty, busy yourself with it, grow old while doing your task. Admire not how sinners live, but trust in the Lord and wait for his light; God's blessing is the lot of the just man, and in due time his hopes bear fruit."
- Sirach 11: 20-21a, 22
* with a match made in Heaven!
I wore sandals to work yesterday - with bare feet! Today it's back to the forties, but that's not bad. And we have the memory of two days sixty five to seventy degrees.
Our Lenten meal plan has been interesting; after three weeks of meatloaf on Saturday, I made meatballs today, and spaghetti. That was a little better. As for the Monday eggs, I am getting sick of that. I often feel a little queasy after having eggs, so I'm trying to make them with more vegetables. But shopping is easier, since there's not any meal planning to speak of.
I keep meaning to say something about Sweetie, but there's a lot to say; she's still around, two months after the doctor said she would be. I'll have to come back to this subject. But she's not much worse, as far as we can tell.
I'm working on St. Patrick's Day, and don't want to cook the traditional dinner on a different day, so I'm planning on Reuben sandwiches.
It's ten o'clock, and fifty four degrees out - if my hair wasn't wet I'd still have my window open. But it's tempting to keep it open tonight, on March 11th for heaven's sake. Today was almost balmy, well into the sixties. Delightful! I felt I should do something outside, so I picked up some sticks, then wandered to the garden and pulled up dried zinnia stalks.
Dolly has another UTI, and more bloody than the last, in case you wanted to know that. My brother happened to have time to come home when a client overslept yesterday and missed his appointment. The vet just happened to be free, so he dropped her off for observation and got her again at his lunch time a few hours later. They were looking to see if anything is wrong, but it's just another UTI, it seems. She got some blood on my quilt so I put it in the wash, and then she came back and got it on my other quilt. I was still finding spots on the floor this morning, but the Clavamox works wonders and she's feeling much better already. Everyone says UTI's are common with diabetes; I hate to think she's going to live the rest of her life on antibiotics every few weeks.
Meanwhile, while typing this, wild sounds of The Orphan speeding around the living room, crashing into things, reach my ears. She's happy.
I've got a library book called Soldier of the American Revolution - it's got lots of photos. This part really surprised me:
"During the Revolution, American soldiers were the most literate soldiers in the world. At the beginning of the war, the army was almost entirely recruited in New England, where approximately 80 percent of adults could read as compared to less than 40 percent in England. The unusual practice of teaching reading to boys and girls from every level of society probably found its origins in Puritanism that promoted individual Bible study. "
I am amazed. It goes on to say "Reading and writing were taught separately, the former often without the latter. Of the people that could read printed material, only a small percentage could write and read cursive text. These were typically wealthy landowners, merchants, clerks, clergymen, or others whose occupations required correspondence or record keeping. An important part of penmanship consisted in mastering the art of carving goose or turkey quills."
Interesting; they could read but not necessarily write.
Dolly is doing so extremely well - she is more active than she's been in years. I guess it's the insulin, and now her UTI is gone - she's feeling good! Yesterday her blood glucose levels were checked and were surprisingly low, so we'll be giving her the shot only once per day till next Monday, when they will be checked again. Right now she's behind me, on my bed. With the jazz program on the radio, naturally.
March is coming in like a lion, it seems. The wind was fiercely blowing last night and today and below freezing all day. But it really feels like spring at times. Something about the light and the brightness.
I was typing a comment on Clare's blog when the cursor disappeared. I left the laptop in disgust and came back much later - it was still nowhere to be seen. I had to cut it off; I never got back there. I know I need a new computer - I just have to make a decision.
I am really liking my Lenten dinner plan, which is something I've done in past years (but not always): the same thing every week. On Mondays, soup and eggs. Thursdays, minestrone and BTLs. Saturday, meatloaf. Sundays, chicken most often, but maybe fish. The other days we have leftovers. Mondays seem the easiest: I make such a large pot of minestrone on Thursdays, that we have it again on Friday and there's still some left for Monday - I don't have to make soup Mondays, so far! It occurred to me that making a recipe every week can help to hone one's technique, which sounds like an excellent thing. Meatloaf, for example - I've made the same recipe for many years, but am trying another for Lent. If I keep making it, I can work out any quirks or things I don't care for; if I make it only occasionally, I don't think I'd be able to do that. So, I may continue this sort of thing after Lent; it's certainly easier than coming up with a new menu every week. We will see.
I tend to think of Lent as a desert place. So, it was helpful to see this as today's meditation in Magnificat:
"It is in the desert, then, that salvation is first restored to humankind - there where are no rich foods, where there are no pleasures....In paradise the devil contends with Adam, and in the desert the devil struggles with Christ....The very body of the Christian is in a sense a desert when it is not filled with food and cheered with drink...Then Christ the Lord inhabits the desert of our body - when he has found that our land is desolate because of hunger and parched because of thirst."
- St. Maximus of Turin
And in his homily this morning, Father also spoke of the desert, saying it's "where you can take no joy in anything." And "where you feel the ground is collapsing under our feet." The desert can be a scary place.
It began snowing yesterday, around twelve noon, right when they said it would. But they also said it would stop at seven tonight. It's eight thirty-nine. Still snowing.
It's very gentle, a quiet, gentle snowfall. And beautiful - I kept looking outside, at the same view as always, which I never tire of.
Looks like a lot, doesn't it? But there was already some on the ground. A day and a half of almost constant snowing, and all we got was three inches, maybe four.
The Snow Arrives After Long Silence
The snow arrives after long silence
from it's high home where nothing leaves
tracks or strains or keeps time.
The sky it fell from, pale as oatmeal,
bears up like sheep before shearing.
The cat at my window watches
amazed. So many feathers and no bird!
All day the snow sets its table
with clean linen, putting its house
in order. The hungry deer walk
on the risen loaves of snow.
You can follow the broken hearts
their hooves punch in its crust.
Night after night the big plows rumble
and bale it like dirty laundry.
and haul it to the Hudson.
Now I scan the sky for snow,
and the cool cheek it offers me,
and its body, thinned into petals,
and the still caves where it sleeps.
- Nancy Willard
The ashes this morning didn't consist of a big black cross on my forehead; there's apparently another way of dispensing them - just a sprinkle on the head. And that's what we got this morning.
"Jesus is not the Lord of comfort, security and ease. Following Jesus demands a good dose of courage."
- Pope Francis
Here's something by Sarah Clarkson - she didn't get any ashes today, but she wrote a wonderful poem.
"The world offers you comfort. But you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness."
- Pope Benedict XVI
Dolly is doing much better, no more blood, no more incontinence, no more peeing on the floor. She's using the box and is back to eating like a horse. We were watching Sense and Sensibility together for a while this evening - the dear girl!
Yesterday my brother came home for lunch to find drops of blood here and there around the house; the cats were all in the living room, in their separate places. It was rather alarming, but he figured it was from Sweetie; she sometimes gets bloody saliva from - we suppose - accidentally biting the growth in her mouth.
But, no - this morning I saw that it was Dolly who was dripping blood. We found a veterinary hospital who had time to see her. She's got a UTI - not, thank God, a bowel obstruction or worse as my wild imagination was suggesting. Poor old lady! They said that diabetes and urinary tract infections go hand in hand.
Speaking of diabetes, her three month checkup showed high blood glucose levels, so the drop was only temporary - we are now giving her insulin shots twice a day. It's still in the trial stage, trying to find the right amount for her; I never thought I'd be giving shots to anybody.
The primroses were three for six dollars at the supermarket; I bought a pink one, a white one and a yellow one. Then I had to put away the wintery decorations - it was an absurd juxtaposition.
This morning I noticed that the clock on my little short-wave radio was off. I scrambled through several drawers, looking for AA batteries but didn't find any. I use that radio for my alarm clock. But then I thought I'd try to reset the time - it worked! I'll bet Sweetie probably stepped on it.
So I don't have to worry about getting up on time in the morning.
Another day of snow! We thought it would start early, but it hadn't when we got to church - I wore my boots anyway. And after, when we opened the doors, snow was falling briskly and was fast covering everything. It's always exciting! I was happy to hear a young father say, "all right!" when he saw it, like a big kid himself.
In no time, everything was looking beautiful. Birds were flying to and from the feeder seemingly in shifts, different ones each time.
It snowed all day, piling up.
and then when it was dusk, I got one more picture.
"Somehow one was always looking ahead, planning the next move, trying to cut down time. And in all this bustle the present was lost. The daisy opened, closed and died. The chaffinch threaded the last bit of moss into its nest before sitting. The sun reached the point in the heavens when the weathercock turned to gold. And all these wonders passed unremarked, because the clock on the mantelpiece gave stern reminder... Charles Henstock was the first to honour his duties towards God and his neighbors. But what a bonus it was...to have these precious moments of just being, of becoming aware of all the other lives impinging on one's own, and of having time to give thanks for such revelation."
- Miss Read, Affairs in Thrush Green
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.
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.
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
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
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 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.
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
