RIP Wendell Berry and Gloria Steinem

Two more lights gone out. Wendell Berry's books and poetry have been a constant for me, not surprising considering that we chose a rural life.

Gloria Steinem's legacy has been important for all women--especially so now that women's rights are under attack with some far right voices even suggesting that they shouldn't have the vote.

Fight on! But listen to WB's words, the ending of one of his poems. (Go HERE to read the whole poem.)

. . . The partition thins between this world and the world to come,
or the next or the other world.


On the other side of the partition
the dead are living.


As one grows older some of the dead grow
more alive, more essentially themselves.


One loves them more.


As the next world grows more distinct, 

this one becomes, not more
vague, but more strange.

 

Days Like This . . .

Hot as it's been, I find myself thinking of snow . . .

Lovely, cool snow.

I wonder if we'll have any this year? These photos are from 2012, I think. We had very little last year.

 

Dear Sirs'

Me again. Although I know not to expect more than a form letter (if that) from your intern, now, more than ever, it seems necessary to register my protest against this lawless regime that is pursuing a war of choice and building monuments to itself, while ordinary people suffer. 

My Representative (Chuck Edwards) and one of my Senators (Thom Tillis) say they will not run again. How nice if they sought to redeem themselves just a bit by taking a stand against DJT (and his minions) and supporting impeachment.

My other Senator, Ted Budd, appears to be firmly in the camp of the GOP who can't see corruption and senility, no matter how obvious.

Someday we'll have our own version of the Nuremburg Trials. Where will you stand when you and your legacy are in the court of public opinion?

 

Rabbit, Rabbit

 

End of August

 

My Favorite Capture (re-post from 2011)

                                      

I was in the garden when I saw a puzzling something zig-zag past. When the something landed, I saw that it was a dragonfly that had captured a butterfly . . . and was proceeding to eat it.

I have a fondness for dragonflies -- they eat mosquitoes, you know -- but I'd never, ever seen one nab a butterfly.

He (or she) stayed put as I got closer and closer . . .

It was fascinating; two beautiful insects-- the dragon fly, a sinister high-tech helicopter, the butterfly, a hapless damsel. .

  Exquisite colors and patterns caught up in a macabre dance of death.

From My World

A beautiful hornets' nest down at the pond.

An accidental kitchen composition caught my eye.

As did the blues in this shot--sky, bench, pond.

 

Harvest Time!

My three pots of basil were ready for a second snipping. It's possible they'll regrow enough before frost that I'll have a third picking.

                                                            

It's lovely to sit on the porch enjoying the view while I strip the fragrant leaves from the stems.

                                          

 It's not like the old days when I would be out here shucking bushels of corn or snapping baskets of beans from the garden. But even a tiny harvest makes me smile.

My tray full of basil resulted in four packed cups of basil--just right for one batch of pesto. A quarter cup of almonds, a quarter cup of Parmesan, 6 cloves of garlic, and a bit of olive oil went into the food processor with the leaves. And after a quick whirl, I had two half pints of pesto for the freezer.

Green gold that will bring a touch of summer to winter meals.

 

Remembering . . .

So many of us were stunned by the death of Dolly Parton, an amazing performer and an even more amazing philanthropist, when there was a loss closer to home.

Mary Pat Franklin, for many years a preserver of tradition and a force for good in Madison County, is gone and it seems almost too much to bear. 

And then I learn that a friend's husband has died and so has a prominent Holocaust survivor, and Tim Curry . . . and I realize how very many deaths go unnoticed by the mass of mankind. How could it be otherwise?

Still, the bright lights that were Dolly and Mary Pat will shine on. Josie wore her Dollywood sweatshirt to school yesterday and reminded me of all the books Dolly had sent her.

And I remembered Mary Pat, who told me stories about Madison County history. But my favorite memory was back when I was doing a presentation of Signs in the Blood at the Madison County library. I'd talked about the story and had asked if there were any questions. The discussion turned to Little Sylvie and her cruel husband and Mary Pat rared back in her chair and called out, "I want to know why you didn't kill that son of a bitch!"

She was one of a kind . . . as was Dolly. But maybe we all are.

Any man's death diminishes me,

Because I am involved in mankind.

And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;

It tolls for thee.

from John Donne's For Whom the Bell Tolls

 

Some Things . . .

                                                               

Some things don't change--like the after school ice cream. But others do.

Earrings!

Press-on nails!

We have entered a new phase.

But she's still my porch-sitting, apple-eating girl!
                                                                 

Dear Sirs

 And here we are, in the bread and  circuses stage of this flailing, failing regime. Money to shut down the nation's capital for a race, to finance a massive flyover, to build more and more monuments to your demented president's insatiable ego while our military suffers, our ordinary citizens face ever higher prices at the gas pump and grocery, our closest traditional allies can no longer trust us, and the president's war of choice in Iran drags on.

The rich, especially the Trump family, are getting richer every day while the national debt has ballooned to an unprecedented high.

And my senators and representatives are silent.

May you reap what you have sown.

             A thoroughly fed up constituent 

Oops, I Did It Again

Chicken salad! A long-time favorite that I learned to make in my mother's kitchen--cutting up the boiled chicken with kitchen shears, chopping the apple and celery, grating in a tiny bit of onion (I now use half an onion and chop it,) and mixing it together with mayonnaise (I add a touch of curry powder now.)

It's one of my go-to hot weather meals--make it in the early morning, no heating up the kitchen.

So that's what I did yesterday, subbing in chicken from a store-bought rotisserie bird (not as good as when I boil/simmer the bird myself with lots of seasoning, including curry powder, But good enough.)

Oddly enough, like the hot weather shrimp salad I made last week, the chicken salad seemed to bring cooler weather. We were sitting on the porch before supper and had to go inside and put on long-sleeved shirts.

Mind you, I'm not complaining. Temperature in the seventies is near perfect. And, as John said, it felt like the beginning of fall. 

Looking out, the green on the mountain sides is beginning to tarnish a bit. And we're not running multiple fans in every room.

All this may change in a heartbeat. But we're enjoying it for now!

Update: 54 degrees this Monday morning!

 

Silent Sunday