Rabbit Rabbit

 

Dear Sirs

 Your president appears to have become bored with the war he started so now he's turning his attention to vanity projects. It wasn't enough that he destroyed part of the White House, shut down the Kennedy Center, and made the Reflecting Pool an ongoing joke--he has to turn his attention to a public golf course, an ill-conceived statuary garden, and now he wants 47 trees planted in honor of his presidency.

The laughable "Great American State Fair" is a perfect symbol of his failed presidency--quickly erected structures covered with wrinkling vinyl and attendance numbers that he inflates automatically "45,000 happy attendees" when those of us with eyes can see fewer than 2,ooo bored patriots wandering aimlessly through the lackluster exhibits.

When will you admit that your president is failing, mentally and physically? The moral failings have been with him from the beginning.

Meanwhile, he squanders the taxpayers' money on his unneeded war and ridiculous vanity projects.  Meanwhile the problem of homeless Americans is growing. As is the problem of unaffordable groceries, healthcare, and housing.

People are arrested for touching the water of the Reflecting Pool while the rioters of January 6 walk free and the Epstein files still haven't been released in unredacted totality.

Kinda makes it hard to celebrate our nation's 250th.

Yard Birds

Y

Young brown thrasher seemed surprised to find himself in a tree top. Just look at those charming gawky legs!

He stayed put for a good twenty minutes and didn't fly but finally moved behind some leaves. We guessed that this was a first venture in flight.

We have lots of goldfinches now. They seem to be quite companionable little creatures. 

 

A Fragrant Surprise

"What is that amazing smell?" I asked John. We were enjoying a pre-supper adult beverage on the porch when a wonderful exotic perfume caught my attention. I looked around but couldn't locate the source.

Then it occurred to me to check the greenhouse. I hadn't been in there is several days and lo and behold, the night-blooming cereus was beginning to open. It blooms only once a year and each bloom lasts only a day so perhaps it's not surprising that I forget that heavenly scent.

I stayed up till 11 pm to get a picture of it at about three-quarters open. Just didn't have it in me to wait for the full show.
                                                              

 

Listen to the Flowers

 

The Insidious Dr. Fu Manchu and Grace Harlowe

Working on the bookshelves in the loft above the living room and came up on some real treasures. I have always been drawn to old books--mainly the sort my grandmother might have read in the very early 1900s--and evidently I stowed a bunch of them up here.

One such treasure is The Insidious Dr. Fu Manchu, with the intrepid Nayland Smith, "a tall, lean man with his square-cut, clean-shaven face sunbaked to the hue of coffee," who is out to stop the fiend in human form known as Fu Manchu.

I find it great fun--opium dens, poisonous centipedes, a mysterious dealt green mist, a beautiful Circassian slave, dacoits, lascars, poisoned darts, cellar dungeons--it's a later Sherlock Holmes and an early version of James Bond. And the book includes illustrations from the moving picture!

Quite a bit tamer is Grace Harlowe's Fourth Year at Overton College. The eighth in a series about the redoubtable Grace, the book gives a look at college life for girls in the teens of the last century. There are little rivalries, progressive dinner parties, masquerades, plays and play-writing competitions, but scant mention of classes or courses of study.

Grace does a mild bit of sleuthing when she recognizes a criminal from one of her previous books. And when a "newspaper girl" who is a rather prickly member of her class, writes up the event and includes Grace's name after being asked not to, the rest of the book is devoted to turning this unpleasant girl around and making her see what true college spirit is.

My grandmother always lamented that she hadn't been able to go to college. I wonder if she read these books--she was just the same age as Grace.

The back of the book gives a fascinating indication of the many popular books available for young people at the time. I'm sure, like Nancy Drew, they were written by syndicates of hard-working, underpaid, ink-stained scribblers 

Touchingly earnest, the lot of them.

College girls, class of 191_, out for a stroll.

                                                              

Ozzie and Harriet

This is what John and I always think of as an Ozzie and Harriet sort of meal--all-American, no frills. Meatloaf, corn on the cob, green beans--and salad, though I doubt O and H would have had spinach, mango, blue cheese, and vinaigrette salad. Back in the Fifties, salad was more likely to be Jello.

And, of course, the corn back then would have been starchy and boiled--unlike today's sweet varieties that just need a little time on the grill. The green beans would have been boiled a long time, probably with a bit of fatback (I'm speaking from my own experience of the Fifties.)

And the meatloaf--which gets such a bad rap these days. My mother's meatloaf was composed of ground beef, cracker crumbs, egg, Worcestershire sauce, and milk. She might have grated a tiny bit of onion into the mixture. Ketchup was spread on top partway through the baking. It was good and firm and made fine sandwiches the next day. And, of course, it was economical.

These days, with beef priced so high, meatloaf is still a go-to for me. But I've jazzed up my mother's version considerably.

1 lb. ground beef

1 lb. hot pork sausage (bulk, not links)

4 slices bread, torn up and softened in about 1/2 c. milk

2 eggs

1 TB.Worcestershire sauce

1 TB. Gochujang sauce

2 medium onions, chopped

Using your hands, blend all these ingredients together. Put in a pan coated with oil, form into a loaf, and bake at 350 for an hour. Halfway through the baking time, coat the top with chili sauce (or ketchup) and another tablespoon of Gochujang, if you like it a little spicy.

I wonder what Ozzie would say?
 

Fooled

Note to self: not every red bird in those trees below our front yard is a scarlet tanager.

I was so excited, thinking to repeat the good luck of the day before. It wasn't till I got the pictures on my laptop that I saw the truth.

Let me hasten to say that there's nothing wrong with cardinals--they are quite beautiful. But we have lots of them at our feeder so tend to take them for granted.

It's the thrill of trying to capture a rarity, I guess.

 

Dear Sirs

                                                              

As your president continues to obsess over the disaster that was the Reflecting Pool, he has deployed the National Guard to protect it from the vandals that apparently exist only in his mind--anything to blame the botched and expensive job on someone other than himself. It's worth noting that he delayed for hours, refusing to call out the Guard during the January 6 riot that saw the Capitol itself damaged and defaced.

Meanwhile, he sabotages the diplomatic efforts to end the war he began and lowers the USA even more in the eyes of its one-time allies.

And STILL, the Epstein files are not released.

The damage this man and his enablers are inflicting on our country continues unabated. It is time for Congress to call him and them to account.

There will be a reckoning.

Stalking the Elusive Scarlet Tanager

I am so excited! Chuffed, as the Brits would say. For years we've seen Scarlet Tanagers flitting around in the distance, but this is the first time I've managed a decent picture.

That first picture was when he alighted on a nearer tree--a rare event. Mostly they stay at a distance. Like this picture above--and the sun was so bright on him that, though I saw a red bird, the camera saw yellow-orange. 

Then there was the female, who stayed at a distance but posed for many shots.  She's olive and yellow, unlike her flashy mate. I was pleased to capture her, but my camera isn't that good at such a distance.

I can't complain though. Bird watching from the comfort of our front porch with a gin and lime at my side is pretty pleasant. 

 

Blessed Summer Solstice

                                                

After great sorrow,

After hateful words and deeds,

Our sun still rises;

Flowers still unfold;

Fruits still ripen in the sun 

And the Great Wheel turns . . .

Wisdom for the Aged from Lolly Willowes

                                                   

    

 I continue to move through the house, thinning out a bookshelf here, a drawer there. As I was reading Sylvia Townsend Warner's Lolly Willowes, one passage really spoke to me:

She had lived for twenty-eight years in a house where there was no lack of cupboard room and a tradition of hoarding, so the accumulation was considerable. There were old toys, letters, stones of strange shapes or bright colours, lesson books, watercolor sketches of the dogs and the garden, a bunch of dance programs kept for the sake of the little pencils, and all the little pencils tangled into an inextricable knot; pieces of unfinished needlework, scraps cut out of newspapers, and inexplicable objects that could only be remembrances of things she'd forgotten.

                                    

Oh, my, how exceedingly accurate this is for me. Except I've been in this house for fifty years, not twenty-eight, and I never had dance programs with little pencils. If I had, I'm sure I would have saved them. And Lolly didn't have an accumulation of mysterious cords and chargers to deal with.

                                         

  

There was another passage I loved, quite zen-like--but I'm not likely to manage it:

It is best as one grows older to strip oneself of possessions, to shed oneself downward like a tree, to be wholly earth before one die. 

                                             

Empty Bowl Blues

I got those empty bowl blues . . .

Yeah, those empty bowl blues . . .

Standin' here with nothing to lose.

The Woman ate it all up . . .

I say, she ate it all up . . .

Got not a thought for this sad pup. 

Breakfast long past . . .

Oh Lord, breakfast long past . . .

Can't see how a poor dog can last.

Lunchtime's years away . . .

I say, lunchtime's years away . . .

Don't see how I'll make it through the day.

(Repeat first verse)