A River in the Sky by Elizabeth Peters

37. A River in the Sky - 19th in the Amelia Peabody series
by Elizabeth Peters
mystery, 2010
unabridged audio read by Barbara Rosenblat
finished, 7/12/10




I loved this latest book about the Emerson family. I am just so glad it exists because I felt quite sure when the previous one, Tomb of the Golden Bird - 2006, ended that would be the end of the series. Amelia and Emerson literally walk off into the sunset, and I sighed with the thought that this was a truly perfect end to just about my favorite mystery series ever. When I heard there was a new one, I just couldn't imagine how they would go on from there, but Elizabeth Peters did a great thing, in my opinion, and went back in time. She tells us a story that takes place before the First World War. They aren't in Egypt or England this time. Ramses is off on an archeology dig in Samaria, a city in Palestine. His parents are asked to go to the same area to help a fellow in his attempt to find the lost Ark of the Covenant, but they don't trust him and say no. Then the British government asks them to change their minds and go spy on him because they fear he is going to cause trouble in the region. They decide to go, and arrange to meet Ramses in Jerusalem.

As with all these books, the details don't matter all that much to me. There are always villains, great descriptions of locales, and familiar characters. The series began with Amelia Peabody meeting Radcliffe Emerson. They marry. They have a son. And their lives go on year after year, adventure after adventure. The same characters appear in the books. One of the most beloved dies, but in the books after his death, he comes to Amelia in dreams, always in the same place in Egypt. It is a wonderful device to keep his wisdom in the stories, and it is not overused, nor does it seem silly or affected. He always helps her think things through. We all feel as Amelia does; so glad to see him again, yet we ache when he goes off.

Do I write as if I know these people? As if they are real? Well, I would guess that most of us who read a long series begin to feel this way about the characters. I'm sure that Archie Goodwin and Nero Wolfe are somewhere in New York City still. And Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes are alive, as is Maisie Dobbs. This is what is just so lovely about being a reader. Reading connects us to our childhoods in a way, when we did believe in fictional characters.

This belief is deepened when we listen to a series. Barbara Rosenblat is Amelia Peabody. She brings this woman alive to the listener. I've never read the books in print but if I did, I would hear that perfect, perfect voice.

A River in the Sky doesn't have a lot of the tension and stress the other books have had, which is just fine with me. There is a kidnapping and some evil people but there are many kindly ones as well. I didn't mind not worrying about 'the children.' Sometimes their adventures are nerve-wracking, especially if the reader is a parent with children much the same age. When they got older, Peters began to include 'manuscripts' - stories told from the points of view of Ramses, David, and Nefret. We saw how so often Amelia and Emerson didn't have a clue of the dangers they were facing, and the parents were probably better off not knowing, just as we are when our teens or twenty-somethings are living their lives away from home.

Here's a real treat I found on the author's homepage:




And here is Elizabeth Peters in her garden:

Today's pictures/Opening day

These three beauties made their first appearance of the season today.

Farm and Garden Weekly - week of July 4

On the 5th, Tom put up some 'fairy lights' - the white twinkly ones - along our front porch. Before he began, he checked the robin's nest, and it was perfectly empty. Naturally we never saw the babies fly, but we are happy the whole time was uneventful and seemingly successful. We saw one of the baby robins, and Tom even saw the mother feeding it, but no pictures. :<( I'm not sure I've ever heard or seen as many robins as this season. This week we have experienced the hottest weather so far this summer. Up here we call it 'bad sleeping weather' and that is so right. Even with two fans it is still uncomfortable. Today it is finally cloudy after a rain last night, but muggy, muggy. I think I heard cooler next week.

We could rename the place 'daylily farm' this time of year. Everywhere I look there are orange daylilies.

Not terribly good photos, but I wanted to give an idea of the color that surrounds us

And now the other colors have begun opening. I paid no attention to size or color when we planted them, and each year I am thrilled by what is a surprise and a memory at the same time. If you love them as I do, you may enjoy going over to the sidebar under 'letter topics' and clicking on 'bowl of daylilies' and 'lily of the day.'

The zephyr squash is coming along great


The yellow pole beans love this hot weather


Is that a sweet pea blossom I see?


The garlic is ready to harvest, but we've picked a couple and they were somewhat rotten. It doesn't seem like there has been too much rain, so we don't really know what's wrong.


The tomatoes also love this hot weather

If I could afford a greenhouse, I would grow lettuce year round. As I may have said once, it is my salad. I don't mix anything with it. I don't 'dress' it. I like it plain just like the rabbits.

I'll close with his week's egg count: 54.

It was 44 years ago today

This is me on July 10, 1966, the day after I met Tom. We were at a great old lakeside dance hall which was just about halfway between our childhood homes. He came up and asked me to dance, and we've been together ever since. Amazing, isn't it?!

Sadly, I don't have a picture of Tom around that time.

Today's poem - Mindful by Mary Oliver

Mindful
by Mary Oliver
from New and Selected Poems
Volume Two


Every day
I see or I hear
something
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It is what I was born for -
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world -
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant -
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these -
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean's shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

The Lost Art of Gratitude by Alexander McCall Smith

36. The Lost Art of Gratitude - sixth in the Isabel Dalhousie series
by Alexander McCall Smith
fiction, 2009
unabridged audio read by Davina Porter
finished, 6/28/10




There is a particular form of disappointment that readers feel. When we've loved a series, we expect we will always love it. And then one day a book comes out and we don't care for it in the old way. We hope against hope that it isn't a downward spiral, though we know it well could be.

Of all Alexander McCall Smith's works, I love the Isabel Dalhousie series the most. I've felt a special connection with her since the beginning. I wrote about this a bit when I did a book report on the book just previous to The Lost Art of Gratitude called The Comforts of a Muddy Saturday.

In this book, I just found myself annoyed with her. I didn't think she used good judgement when she got involved in an unpleasant situation. I understand that people come to her for advice and help but I thought her common sense was lacking in this instance. Maybe I read too many mysteries but it seemed like she took a chance confronting a woman in a remote place. This woman is not a good person, and though I knew that AMS would not let her harm Isabel, I still thought it was a silly thing for Isabel to do.

And, as I noted in the other book report, I can't say too much about the story/characters because there have been important changes which have occurred from book to book. Let's see: I can say she has a boyfriend. But he is almost too perfect, and I am a bit tired of her descriptions of his physical beauty and his kindness.

So, there you have it. Short and not so sweet this time. I rarely finish books I don't care for, but I felt that Isabel deserved my loyalty after giving me such reading joy in the previous books. It isn't a horrible book by any means but it was just ho-hum for me. Does this mean I won't read the latest one, The Charming Quirks of Others? Of course I'll read it. Maybe Isabel was just in a funk. Maybe she just needs to not say yes to every request for help. Maybe her fella will grow a bit as a person. Whatever does or doesn't happen, I'll continue to read about this kindly, well-intentioned woman who thinks deeply about life and how to live it.

Mrs Bale isn't used to this!

Mrs Bale wishes that dart board were a fan today!

According to Mark Breen, a heat wave in our area is three or more days in a row with temps over 90º F. And we are having one right now! He said this is the first one in seven years. What better song to play than this one by Martha and the Vandellas? It is still just as great as it was all those years ago. This song plays in the early moments of one of my favorite movies, Frequency. Have you seen it? I might just watch it again tonight for maybe the tenth time!

The Making of a Home - part 2

It has been almost six weeks since I wrote the first installment of The Making of a Home, and there has been a lot of progress in that time.

arrival of the foundation forms

in place

Preparing to pour the cellar floor

first the stones


then the insulation


then the radiant heat tubing on cellar floor

Sadly, we didn't get pictures of the cement actually being poured.

forms gone, cement done, foundation backfilled

the leach field

and septic tank

arrival of the building materials!


closeup of a log


building materials neatly piled


drilling the well! Tom had to turn the camera to get a full shot


the well head and temporary cap

electric wires have been strung

There is plenty of wildlife. One day Matthew was down at the building site, and the man from across the main road stopped by to say he had seen two bears on their land. Matt had heard rustling the day before in the woods. They have also seen moose tracks. And I saw the little brown rabbit nearby one day.

In the first installment, I told you a building story about the placement of the house. This time our story comes from a man who stopped by the other day. It turns out he was an engineer hired by the bank to make sure the foundation is on the correct land. Sounds silly? Well, this is what he told Tom. There was a guy who had bought two acres and it seemed so huge to him that he thought he owned the whole forest, because he had moved from a 40' X 80' city lot. He told the builder to put the foundation "over there" because it had a better view. When the engineer checked, part of the foundation was on the neighbor's land. Oops!

Today's picture/red, white, and blue

Farm and Garden Weekly - week of June 27

Beginning with this week's bulletin, I'm going to note how many eggs the chickens lay each week. This week's count: 44.

Tom brings them in to his school, and they fly off the shelves. He charges $2 per dozen. These are definitely free-range chickens; very healthy birds who eat bugs as well as their feed - layer pellets. The Dominiques are a long-lived breed and at Windy Poplars Farm, over time they die their own natural deaths.

However, the feed is not organic. We tried some, even though it was twice the price. But the hens didn't lay nearly as many eggs. Tom talked to the folks at the feed store and they have heard the same complaint from other chicken owners. That is so very strange to both of us. I wonder if the feed is lacking some essential mineral? Who knows? We really should look into this further, and I'll report on any results.

I keep forgetting to mention our dear, dear brown rabbit who appears each evening. If you've read Watership Down, you know this evening feeding time is called 'silflay.' The rabbit never comes into the vegetable garden, nor do any other of the wildlife around here. Must be the big black dogs! Oh, how I love rabbits, ever since reading the book back in the mid-seventies.

For my warm-weather friends who may have been amazed at lighting the woodstove in the early days of June, I lit it again on the evening of June 30. The temp in the house was in the low-60s, and there was quite a breeze outdoors with the temp just about the same as indoors.

I saw the solitary male bluebird on the wire this week. We just can't figure out what's going on.

I've meant to note that the snakes have been back for a while. Their numbers are definitely decreased from a few years ago.


The stars of the early July garden are most definitely the orange daylilies.




And the first of the 'non-orange' daylilies opened today!


Last week I mentioned the milkweed, and I just wanted to say today that to me, there is just something so old-fashioned about having it in the garden.


There is such beauty everywhere I look these days. Even the gone-by lupines are pretty in their own way.


And I love the delightful little daisies that just appear! Christmas gifts in July.


Just as I was finishing this edition of the Farm and Garden Weekly, Tom popped in to say the raspberries are beginning to ripen !

Housework/Finished floors

Quel difference from before! We are so very pleased. And really it wasn't such a terrible inconvenience. Tom began on Friday, and by Sunday morning all the floors were sanded, varnished, and dry!

Voices by Arnaldur Indridason

35. Voices - fifth in the Reykjavik Murder Mysteries
by Arnaldur Indridason

translated by Bernard Scudder
mystery, 2003
finished, 6/25/10

In my book report on Silence of the Grave, I said that I would continue buying the books in this series 'as long as Arnaldur Indridason continues to write them, and Bernard Scudder continues to translate them into English.' Peter left me a comment saying that 'Scudder died in 2007 partway through his translation of Arnaldur's novel "Arctic Chill." Victoria Cribb completed the translation and also translated "Hypothermia," the most recent of Arnaldur's novels to be published in English.'

I felt very sad about this, both about the death and the fact that he has been gone so long and I didn't even know it. Anyhow, I thought I would begin this post with a tribute to the wonderful translator. Here is his obituary:

Bernard Scudder
Poet and translator of Icelandic literature, ancient and modern

Joe Allard
The Guardian, Thursday 10 January 2008

Bernard Scudder, who has died suddenly aged 53, was a poet and the doyen of translators of Icelandic literature into English. Born in Canterbury, he read English literature at York University and was a member of the York team in one of their appearances on Bamber Gascoigne's University Challenge.

In 1977 he went to study the Icelandic language at Reykjavik University, after which he worked as a reporter for the Iceland Review and News and as a Reuter correspondent. While undertaking freelance commercial and political translations for many years, he also became widely respected as a translator of poetry and prose. Three years ago he took his first full-time job as translator for the National Bank of Iceland.

Bernard was a member of the editorial team that produced the Complete Sagas of Icelanders in English translation in 1997, which included the translations of some 30 native English speakers. He translated both Egil's Saga and Grettir's Saga, and was responsible for editing the notoriously problematic and difficult skaldic poetry from all the contributors. This five-volume compilation was published in Iceland by Leifur Eiríksson Publishing, but later taken up by Penguin Books. His lyric translation of The Prophecy of the Seeress appeared in 2001, a year before Cold Was That Beauty, a collection of translations of poems by nearly 50 poets.

In addition to his medieval translations, Bernard had an abiding passion for contemporary poetry and fiction. His renditions of a number of prizewinning novels included Thor Vilhjálmsson's Justice Undone (1995), Guðbergur Bergsson's The Swan (1997), Einar Már Guðmundsson's Angels of the Universe (1995) and Thorarinn Eldjarn's The Blue Tower (1999). He has more recently been translating the award-winning crime novels of Arnaldur Indridason, including Silence of the Grave (2006). His copies of the last were delivered to his house on the day of the funeral.

Bernard also translated songs and poems, both ancient and modern, exhibition catalogues, works about Icelandic geology, and subtitles for new films, most notably those by Fridrik Thor Fridriksson. Composures, a volume of his own poetry, was published in England in 1996. Another volume was nearing completion when he died, and will appear this year. It will combine Bernard's own poetry with a number of medieval and modern poetry translations he was at work on.

The poem Gravities, taken from the Composures volume, was characteristic of his work: "At the dead point of the afternoon/ where I at the sea's edge/ watch the waves poised/ between their climax and release/ posed with ineluctable grace/ between two gravities/ between the grave and the graver still/ I long for this dead point/ stretching the climax from the release,/ this finely spun short nothingness/ no longer spinning."

He leaves Sigrún Á Eiríksdóttir, his partner of many years and mother of their daughters Hrafnhildur and Eyrún Hanna.

Bernard John Scudder, translator and poet, born August 29 1954; died October 15 2007

Voices begins at Christmas time. A hotel is bustling with tourists coming to experience the season in a cold climate, while the doorman who doubles as Santa Claus for the children of employees and guests is found dead in his hovel of a room in that hotel, where he has lived for many years. He is in a state which would be most embarrassing if he were alive to know it.

No one seems to know this man, even his fellow employees. The police begin their slow search to piece together bits of information which will lead them to his killer.

Erlendur had unearthed a lie and he knew there was nothing more valuable for a criminal investigation.

That is something we all know, whether we read mysteries or watch them on televison, but I don't think I've actually read the line before. Arnaldur Indridason, more than any writer I've known, takes the time to mention such things. They help the reader see what being a policeman is all about. Another is:

His first sight of the body was etched in his mind and the more he found out about the man in the Santa suit, the more wretched was the mental image he preserved and knew he could never shake off.

In much the same way as in Silence of the Grave, Voices is about families.

Erlendur thought about his own father who did nothing but teach him good manners and show him affection. The single demand he made was to behave well and treat other people kindly. His father never tried to turn him into anything he was not. Erlendur thought of the father who was awaiting sentence for a brutal assault on his own son, and he imagined Gudlauger continually trying to live up to his father's expectations.

and:

'Do you know what it's like not to be the favourite?' she asked instead. 'What it's like just being ordinary and never earning any particular attention. It's like you don't exist. You're taken for granted, not favoured or shown any special care. And all the time someone you consider your equal is championed like the chosen one, born to bring infinite joy to his parents and the whole world. You watch it day after day, week after week and year after year and it never ceases...

In Silence of the Grave we learned why Erlendur is so drawn to reading 'ordeal' books. In Voices, further details are revealed. Erlendur is like the proverbial onion: each book peels off another layer as we get to know this private and solitary man better and better. He tells his daughter, Eva Lind, a young addict who is trying to clean up:

'Instead of trying to rebuild something from the ruins, which I think I was trying to do when I met your mother, I dug myself down deeper into it because it's comfortable there and it looks like sanctuary. Like when you take drugs. It's more comfortable that way. That's your sanctuary. And as you know, even if you are aware that you're doing other people wrong, your own self matters most. That's why you go on taking drugs. That's why I dig myself down over and over again into the snowdrift.'

Along with the descriptions of excellent police work, and Erlendur's personal life, the reader gets to learn some hitherto unknown aspects of Icelandic life. In the first book I read, Jar City, Erlendur's co-worker, Sigurdur Óli asks,

"Isn't this your typical Icelandic murder?" ... "Squalid, pointless and committed without any attempt to hide it, change the clues or conceal the evidence."

In Voices, this criticism of their country continues:

They make such an awful fuss about small things here in Iceland, even more now than they used to; it's a national trait in a country of under-achievers.

and

No one is ever allowed to excel in this dwarf state. No one's allowed to be different.

When I had finished Silence of the Grave, I looked around the shelves wondering what I would read next and I realized I just wanted to read more about Inspector Erlendur and Iceland. I feel the same after finishing Voices. I've picked up a couple other books, and liked them perfectly well, but I'll put them aside to continue with my visits to Iceland.

The author, Arnaldur Indridason

On a fun side note, there were frequent mentions in Voices of the tourists in their brand new Icelandic sweaters. I wanted to see what they look like. Now I want one!

Farm and Garden Weekly - weeks of June 13 and June 20

The last two weeks of spring gave Windy Poplars Farm the annual joy of peonies, though they went from bud to full bloom to overblown in a matter of quick days. Sad that such loveliness can be so very fleeting. It often depends on the weather. Even though our plants are caged for support, there really isn't any hope for the poor flowers if a hard rain falls. They droop, they brown, they die. But oh, how beautiful they are while they last!



Ove the years of the blog, I've offered two peony poems. If you haven't read them, you may find one by Donald Hall and another by Mary Oliver. Both are exquisite.

Lisa left a note on one of the Farm and Garden Weeklies saying maybe the bluebird would be back, and I couldn't believe it after all the commotion that went on, but one day Tom thought he heard it, and then on Monday, the 14th I saw it on the wire near the birdhouse! Will there be a second nest?? No further sightings of the bluebird.

The air is full of robin song. The mother with the nest in the Dutchman's Pipe scolds us only as we walk by the nest onto the porch. Otherwise, she allows us to sit at the table eating with friends as we did on the first day of summer.

Matt saw a black bear down where the house is being built, and on Father's Day his mother and Margaret saw one heading up the road into the woods from our house when they were over here for brunch. Sadly, no photographs.

The wild turkey families have been closer to the house; right out front by the maple tree. Tom took this shot through the screen but you can still see how very adorable they are. I am so fond of wild turkeys, and feel such gratitude that they raise their families here.


On the 23rd I saw two moose out in the north pasture. Again the pictures were taken through the screen, and also with the zoom lens.



On Thursday, the 24th, Tom saw deer tracks up the road; a mother and a fawn. He didn't have the camera with him though.

The Zephyr squash is up!

As are two plantings of the French Gold yellow pole bean. This is the first time we've grown pole beans and are using these cages to support them.


One of my very favorite flowers is the mallow. I remember my mother saying it used to grow by the chicken house on her childhood farm so I planted it here on this farm. I love these which popped up amongst the daylilies.


And speaking of daylilies, the first of the 'common' or orange daylilies have opened. I believe that of all the beautiful colors I have, they are still my favorite.


The milkweed has opened with its incredible fragrance. It reminds me of the hoya plant we used to have. Very strong. It is growing alongside the spiderwort and globe thistle.



I am happy to report that the bleeding heart came back from the late frost and heavy snow, and is still blooming.


Once a year, the cedar waxwing comes along to eat the honeysuckle berries in front of the side porch. Such a welcome treat. Tom was lucky enough to be standing on the porch to catch this view of the dear bird.


We are still having quite a bit of rainy/cloudy weather, and hence the vegetables seem a little slow, but as soon as we get some sunny hot days they should really take off. The lettuce, onions, and leeks are growing just fine.