A Giddy Delight

                                                                       

It's been a real pleasure to see more butterflies this year. I can't identify the one in the picture but there was an abundance of yellow swallowtails dodging around my car when I went to the grocery on Wednesday. And yesterday, a Black Swallowtail tried hard to come in the basement when I was doing the laundry.

Butterflies don't appear to have much sense--just giddy with pleasure at their existence, brief though it may be.

Which puts me in mind of some things I read recently: two pundits (male, of course, is there any other kind?) warned Democrats against being 'giddy' over Kamala's candidacy.

I plead guilty. 

After the sad disaster of the Biden/Trump "debate," and after the orgasmic crowds at the RNC, Kamala's new ascendancy and the rapid coalescing of the party around her are a real delight.

I know it's going to be a fight. I know nothing is certain--especially after watching Hillary lose, despite her overwhelming victory in the popular vote.

But so very many people are energized by this fresh start--young people, women, minorities--how can I keep from feeling just a bit giddy?

My Little Porch Gardem

 

What a Beauty!

In some alternative life that didn't involve a 4WD road, I would adore this snazzy truck for my vehicle. 

I love the paintwork and the wood, and it even comes with a handsome dog. (Don't worry, Sandy--the temps were in the mid-seventies, and it was cloudy.)

 

Moonrise? Sunrise?

Who knows? Not I. Nor do I know who took the picture (below) that I painted from. It's from the coast of NC, where John used to keep a sailboat, so he probably took it. Or our friend Vic, who also has a boat there, and is an excellent photographer. 

I have always liked the composition and the serenity of the photo, so I tried to paint it. But it kept looking too pink and washed out. So I deepened the colors with some Pthalo Blue and set it aside. 

When I returned to it, I found some tiny paint smears in the sky. Not removeable.

Hence the addition of a bird (crow? hawk?) being harassed by some smaller fowl.

 

From the Porch

                                                                                       
 

The Joy of Bubbles...and a Sunday Surprise

This was meant to be a wordless post, but after President Biden's laudable and selfless withdrawal from the race, I must say I'm delighted that Kamala Harris has the support of so many. What a historic moment if we elect the first woman president! 

I'm with her. For the sake of Josie and all the other little girls who deserve to grow up in a world where they are not second-class citizens, valued only as baby-makers, a world where climate change is taken seriously, and the social safety net is preserved.

As I said before, I will vote for whomever the Democrat nominee is--anything other than the dark vision of Project 2025 and the incoherent rage of the MAGA candidate.

But I'd really like to see a woman as POTUS. And I'd LOVE to see Kamala debate the Big Orange Liar.

 

Manhattan Beach

                                                                  

A widely acclaimed author (Pulitzer Prize, National Book Critics Circle Award) turns her gaze to the US in the Thirties (Depression, Prohibition, gangsters) and Forties (WWII, Brooklyn Naval Yard, the Merchant Marine's important and dangerous role, and the sudden emergence of women as a vital part of the war effort.)

Eleven-year-old Anna Kerrigan is brave and clever beyond her years, but she doesn't know that her adored father is on the fringes of racketeering. She is devastated when, one day, he simply doesn't return home.

Nineteen-year-old Anna takes a job as a parts inspector at the Brooklyn Naval Yard. She is good at her work but longs to become a diver--complete with 200-pound suit and helmet, working on repairing the big ships. 

The intricacies of diving--the dangers and the exhilaration-are beautifully portrayed as Anna fights to prove herself. At the same time, she becomes involved with a dangerous but alluring man--a gangster with whom her father had dealings. 

All this plays out against a meticulously researched and beautifully evoked background of life as it was in these particular times and places. Wonderful complex characters, quietly beautiful writing, surprising plot--it's an absorbing read.

Josie (and Otter) in Recovery

 I had my tonsils out last week and I am still recovering. That means I get ice cream and special stuff and also get to watch more videos and rest. My voice still sounds a little funny, but I am okay and will go to dinosaur camp next week. I spent some time working on the hand puppets from the kit Meema gave me.

Also last week, Otter and Domino played fighting too hard.  Otter got a deep wound on her chest and had to go to the vet twice. She has a drain tube with a thing like a balloon in her chest and we have to keep her from jumping around. She has a stretchy little jacket to hold everything where it should be but it doesn't always work and the balloon thing falls out.

She also has to wear a cone-thing to keep from scratching at the wound. She doesn't mind too much but she is pretty bored with having to stay quiet and she still wants to play with Domino so Meema and I had to spend a lot of time taking care of her.

When all the dogs were settled down for a nap, I finally had time to play with the Castle People. I used my dump truck to move them out of the cabinet to the table.

What are they doing? Meema asked me. Is the knight on the horse attacking the Fairy Queen?

No! I told her, they are all getting to know each other. You see, there are two different kingdoms because the red and green king broke them apart and put all the fairy people in one and the other people in the other. But now they are getting to know each other and there is a party with music and singing and dancing.                                                  

I went and got musical instruments and started to sing the story of what had happened and how they were all friends now.

Carmen and Elsa are the best singers in the two kingdoms and they sang very well. It was a very fine party.

Later I built towers in the kitchen.

 

Seen Around

 

If, On a Hot Summer Evening. . .

Sometimes, nothing sounds better than a salad. A Salade Nicoise is pretty much a full meal. There's a little advance prep that, ideally, could be done in the morning before things heat up. Boil potatoes, hard cook eggs, steam green beans, make vinaigrette (fresh basil, thyme, oregano, lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper,) and pour some on the cooked potatoes, then use it to marinate the thin sliced onions. 

Come evening, it's just a matter of assembling the ingredients--lettuce (or spinach,) a small can of tuna in oil, sliced cukes, tomato wedges, the potatoes, green beans, onions, hard-cooked egg, some olives--Kalamata if you don't have the little French ones, some capers, and the vinaigrette. 

And if, after a too hot day, a cooling thunderstorm moves in, it's nice to sit on the porch with coffee and, for Himself, perhaps a drop of something stronger. . .

                                           

 

Baby Blues

I think these pretty little blooms are forget-me-nots. They are from a packet of seeds my SIL Fay sent me as a part of my birthday present back in February. I sowed them in seed trays and seem to have lost the empty packet.

They are in pots now, but I might have a go at making a permanent space for them. I like them nearby where I can see their tiny cheery faces. And can keep them well watered.

 

A Delightful Jigsaw Puzzle

                                                                           

Imagine a jigsaw puzzle composed of fascinating, intricate images, each so fully realized that it can be enjoyed for itself. But as you marvel at the individual pieces, you begin to notice tantalizing glimpses of how one might connect to another.

Kate Atkinson's Big Sky is just such a puzzle--though I didn't tin of it as such whilst reading. Her writing and characters are so compelling that I didn't slow down to ask question--too swept up in the stories.

Each puzzle piece has a story and each takes several turns as narrator. Foremost is Jackson Brodie--the protagonist of three or four earlier Atkinson novels. Ex-police detective, ex-husband, ex-lover, Brodie is a complex and endearing character, especially in his relationship with his son and his ex-lover's dog. 

But, wait! There're more. A pair of Polish girls, arriving in the UK in search of good jobs, only to fall prey to a sex-trafficking operation. A pair of diminutive and determined Detective Constables, following a very cold case dealing with a pedophile ring. There's Vince, and his golfing friends (not friend friends) Tommy, Andy, and dodgy lawyer Steve.

Crystal, Tommy's wife is a Barbie look-alike with a hidden past. Her stepson Harry is a lad of surprising depths. Throw in a third-rate comedian and a drag queen named Bunny and you've got the makings of a complex drama.

The shifts in point of view are so deftly done, one never gets lost. And seeing the same event through different eyes can lend great clarity.

As the pieces of the puzzle begin to click into place, the novel hurtles to a satisfying conclusion, with some of the most unlikely characters demonstrating surprising strength.

I stayed up till midnight to finish this one, unable to put it down. 

What Can I Do?

                                                                                   

This was written before the presumed assassination attempt on the GOP candidate. Of course, I deplore such an act, but my feelings about the candidate have not changed. And the GOP 's attempt to blame it on Biden's 'inflammatory' rhetoric (or worse) is laughable. Don't let this distract you from finding out about Project 2025. (Note: many of the page numbers cited in various memes re P2025 have been changed so that fact checkers may call foul when they're cited.)

The recent ruling from the Supreme Court, coming on top of Biden’s weak performance at the debate and the ensuing pearl-clutching amongst Dem politicos, not to mention the growth of authoritarianism all over the world, and brutal wars in Ukraine, Gaza, and Sudan, and, oh yes, the downward spiral of our planet’s environment has left me . . . what?

I think I’m by nature optimistic but at the same time, fairly cynical. A difficult combination to be sure.

When faced with an unpleasantness, my first thought is to ask what, if anything, I can do about it. If it’s dog poop on the rug, I can deal with it. If it’s the existential breakdown of life as we know it, my options are more limited.

At my age and with my limited mobility, marching and protesting is right out. No one wants to be the elderly woman overcome by heat in the crowd. And in the seriously MAGA rural environment in which I live, going door to door in an attempt to change minds seems like an exercise in futility which would only endanger the live-and-let-live policy we’ve adopted with our neighbors for the past fifty years.

I can write letters or make calls to my congress persons, send some small amounts of money to progressive political organizations. (The cynical part of me doubts any of this does any good.) Of course, I can and will vote at every chance (no matter what the cynical one whispers.)

So, what does one do in these perilous times, when our country seems to be lurching into a quasi-dictatorship, when money buys SCOTUS justices, when the Republican candidate promises tax breaks and deregulation in exchange for dollars, when the whole of the Republican party seems eager to embrace a man I wouldn’t have in my house?

At 81, I suspect I won’t live to see the worst of these trends mature. But I worry about those who will. Though I’d be okay with catastrophic flooding in Mar-a-Lago. Oh, wait, DeSantis is taking care of that by keeping climate change out of the textbooks.

As for our 81 year old president—he has accomplished more and still makes more sense than the red-hatted loon, raving about sharks and batteries and exploding trees. And should Biden prove incapable, Kamala Harris is an excellent backup. Query: Has the GOP forgotten that as Reagan sank into Altheimer's, Nancy Reagan's astrologer may have been running things?

As a matter of fact, the Democrats could nominate the proverbial yellow dog, or a wad of belly button lint and I’d vote for it rather than the anointed one of Project 2025.

So I retreat into the precept of an unknown Zen master:

Brew the tea correctly. See that the house is warm in winter and cool in summer.

Breathe. . .

                                                     

                                          

                                                 

           

Abstracts

 

Little Worlds

                                                                                

Our neighbor and fellow longtime 'new person' has a new book out--the third in a trilogy about Madison County. Rob is known and celebrated as a photographer, but in this ambitious work, photography intertwines with fiction and memoir. 

Like many of us newcomers, Rob's attachment to the land is deep--and sometimes complicated. His photographs show his fascination with the residents, old and new. The excerpts from his journal detail his coming to terms with his place in this rural county. The fictional section of this trifecta is the imagined story of what comes next.

This story of an imagined future is one in which his descendants return to the long-abandoned farm, in search of safety in a world grown increasingly lawless. The refugees slowly find others like them and begin to learn how to survive in the mountains, and to build community (much as we 'new people' did back in the Seventies and Eighties.)

The future story is interlarded with photographs and excerpts from the journal that suggest similarities between the two times. And there is a generous section of Rob's award-winning photographs to close out the book

It was a fascinating and nostalgic read for me. While we certainly weren't hardcore survivalists, part of our rationale for moving here was to provide a safe haven for family should things get bad. Rob's story imagines just such a future.

You can learn more about Rob and his other books on his website.

His new book is available at Penland's in Marshall, Malaprop's in Asheville, and at the Asheville Art Museum

A Letter from My G G Grandmother

                                                         

Written in 1917 by his grandmother to my maternal grandfather in response to his request for family history:

Dear Huborn,

Just a few lines to thank you for your invitation to visit you. There is nothing I would enjoy more if my health would admit. I know I would have a pleasant time with you and Ruby but as I grow older I feel the need of staying at home. My health is very bad this winter-----Now these records I am sending are to the best of my memory. I do not remember dates. Now if this is not satisfactory please let me know & excuse all errors.

                                With a heart full of love for you both, as ever,

                                       Grammother Northcutt

Your grandfather J.H. Northcutt was the son of W.M. Northcutt who came with his father J.W. Northcutt from South Carolina and settled in Butler Co., Ala. Do not remember the date. J.W. Northcutt was a Methodist preacher. Your great grandmother Northcutt was a Miss Nancy Morrz (?) of Ahoobuta, Miss. who died when your grandfather was born. Don't know her parents.

Your great grandfather Benjamin Mason came to Alabama with his father Peter Mason from Savannah, Georgia. Do not remember their dates.

Your great grandmother Mason was Miss Margaret Mancil. Came from South Carolina with her father William Mancil during the trouble with the Indians. Do not remember these dates.

                                                   

As I was getting ready to post this, it occurred to me that possibly I was repeating myself (ah, old age!) And a quick search through this blog (now over 6K posts) told me that I'd already posted about this letter--and at considerably more length HERE

Too late to dream up another post . . . sorry.