Lily of the day/July 14

Two Sunday Strolls/July 12

You may visit Aisling's blog to see who else did some strolling yesterday.




The first Sunday Stroll actually took place on Saturday evening, and indeed takes place every day the weather is good. In the morning the animals make a trek from their home pasture, the south pasture where the barn is, across the road to the north pasture. In the evening they come back; they like to be in the barn at night. This Sunday Stroll was Tom's idea, and they are his photos.

Lining up at the north pasture gate 5 pm Saturday

Coming through

Stopping for a snack

Heading across the road (not a main road; essentially 'ours' though the town maintains it)

Stopping for a snack on the other side before heading into the south pasture

On the way to their barn

The second Sunday Stroll is also a 'further afield' entry (other f.a. posts on the sidebar under letter topics). We traveled to New London, New Hampshire to stroll among the gnus.

gnu |n(y)oō|
noun
a large dark antelope with a long head, a beard and mane, and a sloping back. Also called wildebeest . • Genus Connochaetes, familyBovidae: two species, in particular the abundant brindled gnu or blue wildebeest ( C. taurinus).
ORIGIN late 18th cent.: from Khoikhoi and San, perhaps imitative of the sound made by the animal when alarmed.

Please do read the link to find out what this is all about. These works of art are beautiful and creatively named. They are all along the streets of this lovely town. Here are a few examples of the over twenty gnus we visited. I've put the sign first and then the gnu.

Yes, THE Tomie de Paola!

Lily of the day/July 13

Lily of the day/July 12

Years ago I ordered a 'pink collection' from White Flower Farm, and this beauty was one of them.

Progress Report/Mission Accomplished

It has now been six months, and eleven days into the seventh month since I have entered a library or bought a book. Last night I realized I have accomplished my goal to read my own books. I am quite surprised. When I wrote my progress report on the first third of the year, I thought I had plenty to last me until January. But no. I still have a lot of books on the shelves, but they are mostly nonfiction. I'm just not so interested in reading biographies or histories these days. I want a good story, and I own only a very few which I haven't read: a couple Miss Reads, one Laurie Colwin, and some Barbara Pym. The other fiction books are those which are waiting for Tom.

Thus, I announce that today I visited a library and borrowed Tea Time for the Traditionally Built by Alexander McCall Smith, and am happily spending time with Mma Ramotswe in Africa.

Housework/Tale of the couchless living room

Have you ever made a big purchase and afterward regretted it? This is the case with my couch. Years ago, we were in need of a new one. It was the only one in the store that was vaguely suitable, and so we bought it. My children think it is the best couch in the world. Tom seems to be able to take naps on it just fine. But I don't even sit on it. I find it uncomfortable. I hate the foamy, boing-boing cushions. Plus, I didn't like where it was in the living room. I thought it made the whole corner crowded. I couldn't really have a coffee table in front of it because it was even more crowded that way.

So the other day I had a brainstorm. What if we removed the couch from the living room? Neither of our kids is in a position to take it right now, but there was some room in the study, so we hauled it in. That's what the kitties in the blog header are lying on. They too seem to think it is great.

I then arranged the chairs in the living room to form a little visiting/watching television area. I brought in the big plant for the corner. The couch used to be on the far wall and filled the whole space. Taking very little time, and just a little work, my living room is utterly transformed and I love it.

Lily of the day/July 10

During the summer, for a couple years now, I've been offering a daily 'bowl of daylilies.' There are 38 pictures which you may find under 'letter topics' on the sidebar. This year I've decided to do something a little different. I'm going to take a picture of a different daylily each day. I don't know the botanical names, so if you see one you know, please feel free to leave me a comment.

Today's is the common, but uncommonly beautiful, orange daylily.

Mrs Bale spoke too soon

Almost as soon as I posted that we weren't getting the rain that the rest of New England was inundated with, it began raining nearly every day. We haven't had to water the garden at all. Most days it has been cloudy and rainy, but yesterday we had a beautiful, warm sunny day until early evening when we had a deluge of rain: 1 1/2 inches in an hour. For quite a while it was raining through the bright sunshine, but gradually the sun disappeared. And strangely, there was only a hint of a rainbow.

You can see the raindrops against the bark of the locust tree. The sun is still shining.

Wouldn't you swear this was in some tropical jungle?! Sun is gone.

And this morning all is bright and clear again. I love weather.

Tulpan

Tulpan is the name of an unattainable girl we never see. The film begins with Asa, a young man fresh out of the naval service, meeting with her parents, hoping to convince them of his merit. He tells them amazing stories of the ocean while the girl peeks in through a curtained doorway. She is not impressed. She thinks his ears are too big. They do stick out somewhat but are not overly huge. He takes to wearing a cloth strap around his head trying to flatten them. After a couple visits, the parents make it very clear to him that she does not want to marry him. Still he perseveres; talking to her through a door when he thinks she is in a shed. (She isn't - but there is a sweet listening goat).

The man is living with his sister and her family in a yurt

a circular tent of felt or skins on a collapsible framework, used by nomads in Mongolia, Siberia, and Turkey.

on a Kazakhstan steppe.

a republic in central Asia, south of Russia, that extends east from the Caspian Sea to the Altai Mountains and China; population 15,143,000; capital, Astana; languages, Kazakh (official) and Russian. The Turkic tribes of Kazakhstan were overrun by the Mongols in the 13th century, and the region was eventually absorbed into the Russian empire. Kazakhstan formed a constituent republic of the Soviet Union and became an independent republic within the Commonwealth of Independent States in 1991.

They are nomads who pick up their house and leave when the time comes.


The children in the family are each very much individuals. The only girl sings and sings and sings. The older boy listens to the radio news and repeats it verbatim to his father. The little boy, maybe three years old, rides his wooden horse around and around, getting into little boy trouble while being utterly adorable. The life is very earthy and naturalistic. The father works hard as a shepherd, battling strong winds which stir up incredible dust and dealing with the troubles that come with such a job. Lately lambs have been dying, and he is told it is because the mothers are starving. We see there are only tufts of grass on the steppe - no real forage to speak of.

Asa loves this life deeply. In fact, the movie viewer is pretty sure the only reason he really wants to marry is because a man who does such work must have a helpmate to do the cooking and to keep the home.

Oh my goodness I loved this movie. Everything in it was a revelation to me: the life, the locale, the camels, the language. I felt like I was being allowed into the life of these people. It is not a documentary but felt like it in some places. This is natural because the director, Sergei Dvortsevoy, makes documentaries. There is an amazing sequence of a lamb being born. This is a huge event in the movie because of the way lambs have been dying. It is so important that there be new life in the flock. Yet, the movie is also very enjoyable as just a regular movie about people. There is a humorous character, a friend of Asa's, who is wild about modern life (and women) and wants to move to the city. We see the difficult yet very close-knit life of the family. Their home is one big room where all facets of life occur. This is a truly wonderful movie. You may watch a trailer, and learn more about the movie here. It comes out on dvd in September.

Today's picture/Snakes on the Fourth of July

Jane's Parlour by O. Douglas

33. Jane's Parlour

by O. Douglas

fiction, 1937

hardcover, 374 pages

finished, 7/1/09

As I hoped when I wrote my Pink Sugar book report, Tom did indeed buy me the O. Douglas book in our little town antique shop. Five dollars, and worth a lot more. A lovely book in so many ways. O. Douglas is quickly becoming one of my favorite writers, and I look forward to collecting each of her books. I'm going to write this book report a wee bit differently. It is going to be strictly a collection of quotes from Jane's Parlour which will give you the flavor and the feel of her writing and her subject matter. The book is 'about' several families in the Scottish Borders: neighbors, friends, parents and children, those who are living away at present, newcomers, and old settled families. We learn of them through conversations and through letters. I loved this book beyond words, and hope you will try and find a copy for yourselves. I think it would be great if Persephone Books decided to reprint some or all of her books.

It seems almost wicked to say it, but I honestly like winter better than summer. I like it when the curtains are drawn at four o'clock - or not drawn, for Nicole likes to see the dark night outside - and we can look forward to a long peaceful evening with work and books.

"I enjoy that too," said Nicole; "but, oh, Mother, think of early mornings in summer, when the sea is like mother-of-pearl! Think of the moon on the loch at Kinbervie! Think of the long hot days in the heather!"

"Think of the midges!" said Jean Douglas. "I agree with your mother that winter is the nicest time, but my poor Thomas doesn't. He revels in the long days, and is sadly bored by the winter evenings, though this flood of crime novels has been a great help to him. He can get through a novel in an evening [!!], but I'm going to stop such excess this winter by making him listen for an hour every night to Jane Austen."

"A good idea," said Nicole. "I should think an hour of Jane would give piquancy to the crime."

"Jean," said her husband in outraged tones, "I never heard you were thinking of going away from home next week."

"What a man!" said Jean to the table at large. "He never listens to what I say, and then complains that he's left in the dark! Thomas, my dear, you yourself suggested next week as being most convenient."

"Only vaguely," said Thomas. "I didn't know you'd actually decided to go. How long did you say you were going to stay?"

Have you heard the warnings not to give chocolate to dogs? It seems like this has been done for a long time with no ill effects. In my childhood, my father bought chocolate buttercreams and gave our dog Rusty one every single day of his twelve years. :<) Here is a report of a plan for a dog's birthday:

"Phil's going to take him for a walk after breakfast alone - no other dogs allowed. And we've bought him half a pound of chocolates at the village shop all for himself - he loves chocolates - and cook has iced a dog-biscuit and put ten candles on it."

"Rational conversation is made impossible in this house by the constant presence of dogs."

There is an upcoming picnic, and the mother has been invited.

"Very well, and I'll bring some eatables."

"Don't!" Car advised. "You'll only insult the Lockhart's cook. Wouldn't you hate it if invited guests came carrying pokes of provender?"

"I daresay I would," Katharyn agreed. (How wise children were compared to their parents!)

"I like the cold, it makes me feel very well and jolly. I really like the country best in winter, when others fly from it. The thought of bare trees and the cold wind outside and blazing wood-fires inside makes my heart jump up somehow."

It always amused Katharyn Eliot to be asked how she managed to fill her days in winter-time in the depths of the country. ... There was no boredom in her days; they were all too short. It was a delight to get up in the morning with a quiet day before her, to breakfast with Tim and the dogs, to write, if her brain worked, all morning; then luncheon, followed, if they were alone, by a walk with Tim; tea in Jane's Parlour; letter-writing till dinner-time (four children away meant two letters to each every week); dinner, and the sort of evening they both enjoyed above everything, reading, a little talk, sometimes music on the wireless, the news, and early to bed. Dull? How could she be dull, Katharyn asked. She was in her own home where everything that happened interested her profoundly. The servants, in the house and on the estate, were her friends, what affected them affected her. She loved the place in all the changes the seasons brought. To her it was more exciting to watch the leaves fall and the swallows depart at Eliotstoun and to welcome the first snowdrops and bird notes of the bleak Border spring, than to cheat the winter gloom and follow the swallows to lands where it was always summer.

Like me she is such a homekeeper that any little jaunt seems an adventure.

"Nobody lives to herself in this world, we all depend on each other. I'm not clever, I know that very well, but I've sense enough to see that it makes for happiness and comfort to be on good terms with our fellow-creatures, to try to like them, to be interested in them and in what concerns them. Mind you, there are far too few interested people, people you can go to and tell all that happens, and show them your new clothes, and know they're pleased to listen and look. When Mrs. Brown died - you remember the invalid lady who lived in the pretty cottage at Sandy Bay? - I never saw more genuine grief. Someone said to me at the service in the house, 'I'll miss her terribly. She was so interested. I could go to her and tell her everything and always knew she cared. Her house was a haven to many.' I thought that was almost as good an epitaph as one could wish for."

I've been slack about continuing on with what I lovingly called 'the Guernsey effect' - from these words in The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society:

That's what I love about reading: one tiny thing will interest you in a book, and that tiny thing will lead you onto another book, and another bit there will lead you onto a third book. It's geometrically progressive - all with no end in sight, and for no other reason than sheer enjoyment.

From Jane's Parlour, I learned of The Young Visitors. I recognized the name from a PBS program which I didn't watch, but had heard of. I've put it in my Netflix queue, and look forward to reading the book.

"Didn't you ever read The Young Visitors? Oh, but you must. I think it's not only one of the funniest books ever written, but full of profound truths."

Another lead came from the quote by Mary Russell Mitford which I used as a quote du jour. I have since found her book, Our Village, online and am planning to read it. This is the second 'Guernsey effect' for this book, as it was mentioned in Mrs. Malory and No Cure for Death.

I shall end this long book report of quotes, and only hope you may feel some of the kindness, the joy, the intelligence, and the warmth of Jane's Parlour.

An Apologia

My blogging friends, whose blogs I love, I must apologize.
My days appear most recently to flee before my eyes.
My house is very full these days with friends and family;
My gardens beckon quietly yet so insistently.

Today's picture/Insulator

Family Happiness by Laurie Colwin

32. Family Happiness
by Laurie Colwin
fiction, 1982
paperback, 270 pages
finished, 6/16/09







Family and happiness are wonderful words, yet this book often made me feel sad. When we first meet the Solo-Millers, they seem so happy. They eat together on Sundays, they celebrate major and minor holidays, they vacation together in Maine. They are comprised of an older mother and father, and their three adult children and their families.

In general, the Solo-Millers preferred the company of their fellow Solo-Millers to that of other mortals, and they gathered frequently.

If you are part of such a family, or know this kind of family, you are aware that there are stresses and strains beneath the 'perfect' exterior. There is often a controlling parent or grandparent who 'requires' attendance. And not only physical attendance, but emotional and lifestyle attendance. One is accepted if one toes the line, lives the life, accepts all the rules. Dora Solo-Miller has always done so. She is the only daughter, and the child who holds everything and everybody together. It has always been her role, and she doesn't realize that she hasn't been appreciated until she begins an extramarital relationship with a painter named Lincoln. In fact, symbolically, he is the only person who calls her by her real name, not her family nickname which is Polly.

There are family idiosyncracies, which from the outside may seem endearing or cute. The father has a food 'thing' whereby his food must be washed with soap and water. The mother never gets names right.

It was a family joke that Polly had married a lawyer named Henry [the name of her father and her brother] in order not to give her mother anything to screw up.

Again, this is symbolic. Not only does her husband have the same name, but she is living the same kind of life in which she was raised. 'Her' Henry isn't a bad man. He is kind, and good with the children, but he works long hours. Polly has great kids and a part-time career, though her mother 'won't' learn what it is her daughter does, and is critical of the time she spends away from home. The mother, Wendy, spent way more time away from her own children but because she was doing volunteer 'good works' she thinks of herself as the 'better' mother. It may be easy for us to judge Polly: to say how dare she have an affair; how dare she feel badly about her life when she truly does have everything. Her husband even tries hard to change his work habits to make their life happier.

Family Happiness explores an adultery that is not shown in books or movies. Polly's infidelity is a release, an escape, not only from her husband but from the family she grew up in. It isn't simply a physical relationship, but her first real friendship outside of her family. I have seen this kind of family in action, and I have observed that it is nearly impossible to change either the people or the situation. What often happens is that a member will move far away. They must move because there is no use in confrontation. The parents or the grandparents will not change. Ever. That's just how it is. The only hope is distance, or in Polly's case, an affair. The man she comes to love will never be a threat to her 'family happiness.' He loves her, but he is a loner who values his solitary, artistic life beyond everything else. He will never demand she leave her husband (and family) for him. And Polly would never do so, though she suffers greatly living two lives. He truly does care for her, and sees her in a way her family never will. He gives her back herself, in a manner of speaking. He shows her how she has been treated, how she has been taken for granted, and how she really is as a person.

I believe Laurie Colwin was a genius. Her death at 48 years old in 1992 is a great loss to those who knew her, and also to her readers.

Mrs Bale makes an appearance

The rather puzzled look on Mrs Bale's face is because she wonders why we in the northern part of the state are a little pocket of cool and cloudy whilst (her word - I'm not being pretentious here!) all around us have rain, rain, rain. My fellow New England bloggers are soggy with rain, yet we have actually had to water the plants a few times. We've had a couple rainfalls, but really nothing to write home about. The clouds have kept the grass nice and green. I harvested lots of spinach, and the peas and lettuce are growing beautifully. We've had enough sun and heat to get the zucchini (oops, courgettes!) and yellow beans popping out of the soil. The flowers are all putting on a great show, and honestly I have no complaints weather-wise. It has been quite a British spring which I love.

Today's picture/Strawberries and cream

Today's poem - Peonies by Mary Oliver

Peonies
by Mary Oliver from New and Selected Poems


This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open ---
pools of lace,
white and pink ---
and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away

to their dark, underground cities ---
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again ---
beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?

The Winner of War on the Margins is Tara!

Tara, I'll mail it to you soon.

Quote du jour/Mary Russell Mitford

It has pleased Providence to preserve to me my calmness of mind, clearness of intellect, my cheerfulness, and my enjoyment of little things.
Mary Russell Mitford (1787-1855)

Waterloo Sunset/Ray Davies

In honor of Ray Davies' 65th birthday (how is that possible?!), I offer this: