Recently Read

                                 

A novel without a plot or a protagonist, STW's The Corner That Held Them is an absorbing account of the daily comings and goings at an English Benedictine convent in the 14th century. The Black Death makes an appearance, as do various peasant uprisings, but it is the small, ordinary day to day matters that truly immerse the reader in the times. 

I'm a great fan of Rumer Godden's In This House of Brede--a look at the life of a 20th century English Benedictine abbey, and I enjoyed seeing the many parallels between these two books. A community of women, whether in the 1300's or five hundred years later, is subject to the same strains and revelations. 

Then there's Warner's Lolly Willowes. Set in England in the early 1900's, it's the story of Laura, aka Lolly, a dutiful child and later a dutiful spinster aunt who, after forty years of dutifulness sets out to live on her own terms.

Warner's prose is engaging and precise in detailed description. The novel caught me by surprise in the second half, when Lolly, fighting to maintain her autonomy, becomes a witch.

Warner is known as an early feminist and certainly such themes are apparent in both of these novels. But for me, what stood out was the beauty of the prose and the finely drawn characters.

Good reads, both of them.

Josie's To Do List

A day with Meema. First of all she made a To Do list.

1. Organize Castle People

2. Draw

3. Eat lunch

4. Tablet time

5. Paint

6. Play cards

7. Read

8. Brush the dog

9. Tablet time

10. Clean up

She says this is from a Lego movie and Koko is pronounced cuckoo and that's how it was in the movie.

So much to do!

 

A Field of Daisies, Updated

 

In 1973 John and I decided to escape the ever-expanding suburbs that were wiping out the old Florida where we’d grown up. We ran away in search of a new home.

On a day in early June, we found ourselves sitting in a mountain pasture, watching the daisies stirring in the breeze and listening to the hollow sound of a pileated woodpecker hammering on a tree. The sky was Carolina blue and all we could see in the distance were mountains, green with trees and the occasional pasture. Except for an old cabin behind us and two tobacco barns just below the field, not another building was in sight. Breathing in that sweet mountain air, we decided we were

home.

  
It was the beauty of the place that bewitched us – those rolling ranks of mountain ranges in hazy blues and purples, the lush early-summer greens of the poplars and locusts, maples and walnuts, the orange day lilies crowding the banks of the creeks and branches, the blue of chicory that reflected the sky, the white of the lovely Queen Anne’s Lace . . . the beauty that seemed to be everywhere we turned. We fell in love with the scenery, took a leap of faith, and bought the sixty acres with the barns, the cabin, and the field of daisies . . . and then, as we spent the summer camping out in one of the barns, we fell in love with the people and a whole new way of life.

 

Fifty-three years later  and we've never regretted that leap of faith. And every time the daisies bloom, I remember that magical day . . . sitting in the field of daisies and deciding we were home. 

A Summer Thought

"But no summer is so long . . . as the summer before it. Time, a river, hollows out its bed, and every year the river flows in a narrower channel and flows faster."

From Sylvia Townsend Warner's The Corner That Held Them which currently is holding me spellbound.

 

Wild Raspberries

Just below one of the north-facing windows in my bedroom is a steep, kind of no-man's land. John weed eats it occasionally, but he left this fine patch of wild black raspberries.

I saw blue jays visiting it this morning and hurried to get my camera.

But jays are wary critters and though I lurked quietly, no luck--except for this charming chipmunk.

The raspberries are beyond our reach, being on a slippery slope. All the more for the critters! 

                   

And time spent lurking with my camera is, for me, akin to meditation. 

 

A Favorite Poet

I first met the poetry of Tu Fu almost sixty years ago when I was teaching at Berkeley Prep in Tampa and one of the students (hi, Evan) lent me his copy of Chinese poems, translated by Kenneth Rexroth.

I soon acquired my own copy and I still love the poetry, especially that of Tu Fu.

By the Winding River

Every day on the way home from

My office, I pawn another 

Of my Spring clothes. Every day

I come home from the river bank

Drunk. Everywhere I go, I owe

Money for wine. History

Records few men who lived to be

Seventy. I watch the yellow

Butterflies drink deep of the

Flowers, and the dragonflies

Dipping the surface of the

Water again and again.

I cry out to the Spring wind, 

And the light and the passing hours,

We enjoy life such a little 

While, why should men cross each other?

                           Tu Fu

 

 

Dear Sirs

                              

So the iniquitous plan for the 1776 slush fund has been shelved, at least for the moment. That's good. But the Get Out of Jail Free card--added by Trump's "Justice" Department, mandating that the government be "FOREVER BARRED and PRECLUDED from prosecuting or pursuing" pending tax claims against the president, his family, or his businesses still stands.

How can this be justice?

Your president continues to milk his office for untold sums. Unlike recent presidents who have avoided trading stocks in companies whose bottom line they could influence, according to the Associate Press, during the first quarter of the year, Donald Trump ignored that precedent with more than 3,600 buy and sell orders, "many of them involving companies whose profits have been directly impacted by his decisions as head of the government."

Two more reasons this corrupt man should be removed from office.

The Pot of Gold Is Just Down the Road

 

A Dance to Die For

One collapsed beauty . . .

The last pas de deux . . .

And  the entire corps de ballet appears to have met a tragic end.

I always see fuchsia blooms as ballerinas and this is what I saw on the deck beneath my fuchsia hanging basket.

 

Rabbit, Rabbit, June Moon

 

Thankful

So thankful that Noli (Cannoli) is back! Friday evening he followed Otter and Jenny off on a little toot. They came back before dark but he didn't.

Justin went looking for him to no avail. And the next morning, still no Noli. We texted neighbors and Claui put his picture on FaceBook.

It's awful when a pet goes missing. A great heaviness descends and you imagine worst case scenarios. A neighbor mentioned having seen a bear recently and and, as the hours dragged on, that kept nagging at us. Noli is a sweetie-pie but would he have the sense to get away from a bear?

But then, oh joy, early yesterday afternoon Noli sauntered into his front yard, apparently undamaged by his night out. 

And there was great rejoicing.

Another thing I'm particularly thankful for is that,  after an operation,  my and Josie's friend Sandy has gotten some measure of relief from terrible back pain.

And, as long as I'm being thankful, the judge's order to remove the stain from the Kennedy Center is delightful. As is the news that artist after artist is declining to perform at POTUS's 250 event. Hoorah for them! 

May there be more good news soon!

 

Stalking the Red Winged Blackbird

John told me that there were red-winged blackbirds down at the pond--a bird I've not heretofore seen on our place. So yesterday afternoon we took a bottle of bubbly down  to the pond and settled in to enjoy the place and to get some photos.

There are worse places to wait . . .

And after a while, the female showed up. She looks like a big sparrow--good camouflage for someone who nests in the cattails low to the ground.

Meanwhile the male was elusive--flitting from tree to tree and once swooping close to check us out--but I wasn't quick enough with the camera to capture him.

Finally he settled on a cattail and gave us a good view of his handsome epaulets.

Another time, I'll try for the bluebirds that I've seen at this nest box when I'm driving in or out.

 

Morning Exercises

                                                      

One of the joys of being old and without too many demands on my time is that I can ease into the morning at my own pace. That is, after I've let Jenny out at seven and fed the cats and tended to their litter box. By then I'm too awake to go back to sleep so I make the bed, get dressed, and head for the living room.

John usually gets up earlier and eats his breakfast and he also makes the coffee--which is most welcome. I take a thyroid pill on arising and am not supposed to eat till an hour later--which is fine with me as I'm not hungry till around nine.

But now it's exercise time. Not aerobics (as if) or yoga or, indeed, anything physical, but mental calisthenics in the form of online puzzles. Something to limber up my mind before I tackle the news of the day.

I started with Wordle, and over time I've gotten pretty good at it. My opening word, for a long time, was ocean, which worked well until the day that it was the answer to the puzzle. Of course that was nice but it left me feeling oddly disappointed as I hadn't gotten to make any guesses.

Now my opening word is canoe --which is, of course, an anagram of ocean. Not sure what I'll do if it's the answer one day.

I've added a few other games to my morning exercises-- Waffle is one, but it's almost too easy. Connections is fun and sometimes very challenging especially when they use items from popular culture. I never watched The Simpsons or any recent television and have only a superficial knowledge of sports teams, video games, Broadway shows, and films of any sort. Still, I manage to muddle through most days.

And then there's Spelling Bee--just the thing for me--except that they don't always accept some words that I know are words--though possibly archaic or arcane. 

No Sudoku for me. I looked at it once and was totally flummoxed. I am not a number person.

My little morning routine is a pleasant way to get my brain in gear and then see what the two Heathers have to say about the latest outrages of this wretched regime. And then on to the NY Times, which, as yet, hasn't had the news that I am most hopeful for.

And so my day begins.