Today's picture/Melting

Today's video/The Fighter - Keith Urban and Carrie Underwood

Did you see this on the Grammys? I LOVE this song, and I've ordered the record Ripcord. I bet you can't stay in your chair while you listen! (Sorry there's an ad)

Old sayings

One of the things that goes along with the shift from agricultural to urban in this country is that the old sayings most likely make no sense to someone who has never been in a farm or rural environment. Take this product, for instance.

A lot has changed since 1886.  I'm glad they decided to keep the slogan on the can for old time's sake. What it means is that when chicks first come out of the eggs, it is a little while before they 'scratch' - before they begin to use their claws to rake the bedding material. Chickens spend a lot of their time scratching up the soil for food, and probably that first scratching is an innate knowledge of what they need to do to survive.

So, for a product that promises not to scratch your sink, this is the perfect saying. There's a nice page about the company here.

I've read that more people in cities and bigger towns are raising chickens now, so maybe the saying will be better understood in the populace. I certainly didn't know what it meant until we began keeping chickens all those years ago. Incidentally, we have new chickens arriving in May. I've written about the experience here on the blog.

Today's pictures/Icicles

Not the world's best photographs but top to bottom are the icicles out the north window. In the last one, you can see that they are touching the ground. It took three pictures to get them in because they were so long!

The death of Stuart McLean

Tom and I are so sad that Stuart McLean has died. We have spent some of our best times listening to the Vinyl Cafe, entering into the lives of Dave and Morley and the kids. His voice was so perfect. He told stories that seemed as real as could be. He seemed like a friend who just happened to be on the radio. "Come and get me, copper" is a phrase that sets us laughing every time someone in the family says it.

There is an obituary here, and amazing social media tributes here. He will be sorely missed in this world.

Today's picture - The garden gnome a week later

We've had a little snow since last Wednesday when I put up the blog header photo of the gnome!

Quote du jour/Anna Quindlen

Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey. They are home.
How Reading Changed My Life
Anna Quindlen

Today's pictures/Cooking your egg and eating it, too

Today's video/My snowboarding son!

My son Michael works at a ski/snowboard resort, and a co-worker took this video of him.

Today's picture/Cartoon from The Oldie

As I was reading my Oldie magazine this morning, I saw a cartoon that I wanted to post to the blog. I wrote to the cartoonist, Crowden Satz, and asked about using it. For a small charge, he optimized it for me so it would look good here. I think it is just the best cartoon.

Taken at the Flood by Agatha Christie

Taken at the Flood - book 27 in the Hercule Poirot series 

by Agatha Christie
mystery 1948
kindle 
finished 1/16/17  







The book cover picture comes from my one of my Agatha Christie reference books, 

 which has this to say:

Agatha uses the speech in her epigraph:

There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

It has been ages since I've read an Agatha book, and the old familiar feeling came back as soon as I began; that feeling of ah, I can completely sit back and relax because my reading is in the hands of a master. She really can tell a tale better than almost anyone. As they say, even her worst writing is better than most people's good writing. Her intelligence, her good sense when it comes to characters, her settings all combine to make a great reading experience. 

Another of my reference books 

says that the bombing in the book comes from the bombing of her own house in London during the war. The houses right around hers were "completely flattened," while hers suffered only external damage. Most of the contents were fine. Just this kind of randomness happens in Taken at the Flood. The twenty-four year old Rosaleen married the sixty-two year old Gordon Cloade and two weeks later a blast 

blew the basement in and ripped off the roof. First floor practically wasn't touched. Six people in the house. Three servants: married couple and a housemaid, Gordon Cloade, his wife and the wife's brother. They were all down in the basement except the wife's brother...

The only survivors were the wife and her brother who come to the family estate in Warmsley Vale. Gordon did not make a new will in those two weeks of married life, so his family who were to be the beneficiaries now receive nothing because his old will is 'revoked by his marriage.' I was amazed at this law - that the wife automatically got the money. What hardships this placed on the family. 

The rich, childless man had taken all his relatives completely under his wing. ... Yes, they had all depended on Gordon Cloade. Not that any of the family had been spongers or idlers. Jeremy Cloade was senior partner in a firm of solicitors, Lionel Cloade was in practice as a doctor. But behind the workaday life was the comforting assurance of money in the background. There was never any need to stint or to save. The future was assured.

A stranger comes to town saying that perhaps the first husband is still alive, which would of course make Rosaleen's second marriage invalid, and the money would all go to the family. Or if she died, the same thing would occur.

I read this for the 

and I took special note of life in the third year after the end of the war. The young Wren who had done overseas service is thrilled to come home again ... for about three days. 

And already a curious dissatisfied restlessness was creeping over her. It was all the same - almost too much all the same - the house and Mums and Rowley and the farm and the family. The thing that was different was herself....

And her mother's life

Except for a rather unreliable woman who came four mornings a week, Mrs. Marchmont was alone in the house, struggling with cooking and cleaning. ...   The small but adequate fixed income which had kept them going comfortably before the war was now almost halved by taxation. Rates, expenses, wages had all gone up. 

A farmer says

"I'm only just keeping my head above water as it is. And what with not knowing what this damned Government is going to do next - hampered at every turn - snowed under with forms, up to midnight trying to fill them in sometimes - it's too much for one man."

There is mention of an 'ill will' and 'ill feeling' that is everywhere. 

On railways and buses and in shops and amongst workers and clerks and even agricultural laborers. 

The book offers such a strong sense of English life in 1948. The atmosphere is almost a character in the story. The characters' actions and reactions are in response to the social, monetary, and political situation of the post-war years. I really enjoyed the book and learned so much.

Quote du jour - Kalidasa

Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn! 
Look to this Day! 
For it is Life, the very Life of Life.
 In its brief course lie all the 
Verities and Realities of your Existence. 
The Bliss of Growth, 
The Glory of Action, 
The Splendor of Beauty; 
For Yesterday is but a Dream, 
And To-morrow is only a Vision; 
But To-day well lived makes 
Every Yesterday a Dream of Happiness, 
And every Tomorrow a Vision of Hope. 
Look well therefore to this Day! 
Such is the Salutation of the Dawn!

Kalidasa, Indian sanskrit poet and dramatist - 5th century AD

The Crofter & The Laird by John McPhee

The Crofter & The Laird
by John McPhee
nonfiction 1969
print
finished 1/19/17

The Crofter and The Laird has been in our library for decades. I’ve often looked at it and wondered if I’d like to read it, but I’ve never actually picked it up. 

It was published in 1969, 1970. The reason for the two dates is that it was published in The New Yorker magazine first, and then was ‘developed with the editorial counsel of William Shawn, Robert Bingham, and C.P. Crow.’ 

The author begins the book with

The Scottish clan that I belong to - or would belong to if it were now anything more than a sentimental myth - was broken a great many generations ago by a party of MacDonalds, who hunted down the last chief of my clan, captured him, refused him mercy, saying that a man who had never shown mercy should not ask for it, tied him to a standing stone, and shot him.

That standing stone was on the Scottish island of Colonsay. McPhee brings his wife and four daughters over to live there for a time. He weaves together the past and the present, teaching us local history and showing us what life is like. At the time of the book there were 138 people on the island, and today there are 135 people. Amazing that fifty years later the population is the same especially because the crofters of the late sixties feared the young would leave and never come back. Some must have stayed, and perhaps others have moved there. There are a lot of activities that weren’t going on in the time of the book, for example festivals, and honey production. There is still a laird, and I found an article where he helped save the only pub five years ago.   

There is a tremendous amount of gossip that goes on. The author is told there is no mental illness on Colonsay, probably due to the degree of gossiping.

‘There is apparently a point at which gossip can become so intensely commonplace that it is not only beyond hurting anone but is, in fact, a release.' 

McPhee shares some of this gossip with the reader, using a great device whereby he notes the words of several people, listed one after another without mentioning anyone’s name. This particular topic went on for two pages.
“Donald Garvard is generous man. He would lend his last hundred pounds.”
“He comes in like a bit of a breeze.”
“He’s a hail fellow.”
“He has a strong, Highland sense of humor."

If you have an interest in Scottish island life from almost fifty years ago, this is your book. And if it isn’t a topic that you are particularly interested in, you may find yourself drawn into the book. I so enjoyed it. This is my second choice for 

Some videos which are all about the deep thoughts we have in our twenties

When we were in our twenties, Tom remarked on the fact that we now had adult memories; that we could look back and see a past. That doesn’t happen in your teens. It seems to be a perception, a knowledge that occurs when one is a twenty-something. 

My favorite Pink Floyd song tells of this experience, and I happened to see that Roger Waters, who wrote the lyrics, came to the realization when he was 28 or 29. 

This song is about how time can slip by, but many people do not realise it until it is too late. Roger Waters got the idea when he realised he was no longer preparing for anything in life, but was right in the middle of it. 

"Time"

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day

Fritter and waste the hours in an off-hand way

Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town

Waiting for someone or something to show you the way

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain

You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today

And then one day you find ten years have got behind you

No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking

Racing around to come up behind you again

The sun is the same in a relative way, but you're older

Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time

Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines

Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way

The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say

Home, home again

I like to be here when I can

When I come home cold and tired

It's good to warm my bones beside the fire

Far away, across the fields

The tolling of the iron bell

Calls the faithful to their knees

To hear the softly spoken magic spell

One of my very early posts spotlighted the first Keane album. A song from it that expresses this same twenties experience is Somewhere Only We Know.

I walked across an empty land

I knew the pathway like the back of my hand

I felt the earth beneath my feet

Sat by the river, and it made me complete

Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?

I'm getting old, and I need something to rely on

So tell me when you're gonna let me in

I'm getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin

I came across a fallen tree

I felt the branches of it looking at me

Is this the place we used to love?

Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?

I'm getting old, and I need something to rely on

So tell me when you're gonna let me in

I'm getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute, why don't we go

Talk about it somewhere only we know?

This could be the end of everything

So why don't we go

Somewhere only we know?

Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?

I'm getting old, and I need something to rely on

So tell me when you're gonna let me in

I'm getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute, why don't we go

Talk about it somewhere only we know?

This could be the end of everything

So why don't we go?

So why don't we go?

This could be the end of everything

So why don't we go

Somewhere only we know

Somewhere only we know

Somewhere only we know?

Adele’s latest album 25 is described here and there’s that same theme. 

"Million Years Ago"

I only wanted to have fun

Learning to fly learning to run

I let my heart decide the way

When I was young

Deep down I must have always known

That this would be inevitable

To earn my stripes I'd have to pay

And bare my soul

I know I'm not the only one

Who regrets the things they've done

Sometimes I just feel it's only me

Who can't stand the reflection that they see

I wish I could live a little more

Look up to the sky not just the floor

I feel like my life is flashing by

And all I can do is watch and cry

I miss the air, I miss my friends

I miss my mother, I miss it when

Life was a party to be thrown

But that was a million years ago

When I walk around all of the streets

Where I grew up and found my feet

They can't look me in the eye

It's like they're scared of me

I try to think of things to say

Like a joke or a memory

But they don't recognize me now

In the light of day

I know I'm not the only one

Who regrets the things they've done

Sometimes I just feel it's only me

Who never became who they thought they'd be

I wish I could live a little more

Look up to the sky not just the floor

I feel like my life is flashing by

And all I can do is watch and cry

I miss the air I miss my friends

I miss my mother I miss it when

Life was a party to be thrown

But that was a million years ago

A million years ago

This post was prompted by an Ed Sheeran video I watched this morning. I thought, oh my gosh, this really is a ‘thing.’ It is a life truth that when we’ve had a few years of living, we look back to see where we came from and what shaped us and how the time goes by. 

"Castle on the Hill"

When I was six years old I broke my leg

I was running from my brother and his friends

And tasted the sweet perfume of the mountain grass I rolled down

I was younger then, take me back to when I

Found my heart and broke it here

Made friends and lost them through the years

And I’ve not seen the roaring fields in so long, I know I’ve grown

But I can’t wait to go home.

I’m on my way 

Driving at 90 down those country lanes

Singing to “Tiny Dancer”

And I miss the way you make me feel, and it’s real

We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill

Fifteen years old and smoking hand-rolled cigarettes

Running from the law through the back fields and getting drunk with my friends

Had my first kiss on a Friday night, I don’t reckon I did it right

But I was younger then, take me back to when

We found weekend jobs, when we got paid

We’d buy cheap spirits and drink them straight

Me and my friends have not thrown up in so long, oh how we’ve grown

But I can’t wait to go home

I’m on my way

Driving at 90 down those country lanes

Singing to “Tiny Dancer”

And I miss the way you make me feel, and it’s real

We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill

Over the castle on the hill

Over the castle on the hill

One friend left to sell clothes

One works down by the coast

One had two kids but lives alone

One’s brother overdosed

One’s already on his second wife

One’s just barely getting by

But these people raised me

And I can’t wait to go home

And I’m on my way, I still remember

These old country lanes

When we did not know the answers

And I miss the way you make me feel, it’s real

We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill

Over the castle on the hill

Over the castle on the hill

The Franchise Affair by Josephine Tey

The Franchise Affair - book 3 in the Alan Grant series (though he is barely in this one)

by Josephine Tey

mystery 1948

kindle

finished 1/21/17 

I have never read a book like The Franchise Affair. 

Here is the plot. A young teenage girl goes to the police and tells them that she has been kidnapped and beaten by two women, a woman in her forties and her mother. She describes their house and grounds in great and perfect detail. The women deny everything. Can you imagine if someone accused you of such a thing and ‘knew’ your home inside out? What a horror. The reader doesn't know who is telling the truth and who isn’t for a while. There is a wonderful small town lawyer who has lived a placid, easy life with a doting aunt. Suddenly he is swept up in the case and off on the adventure of his life. Alan Grant, the Scotland yard sleuth in the first two books in the series makes very few appearances. I guess that’s about all I’ll say except that this is one great story, and you don’t need to read the others in the series first.

I read it for the Birth Year Reading Challenge 2017

and the Read Scotland 2017 challenge

though I was going to read it anyway because I am planning to read all the books in the Alan Grant series, and Tey's non-series books as well. She was a very good writer who died too early. Her real name was Elizabeth MacKintosh. You may read more about her here and here. I've just bought a recent biography of her by Jennifer Morag Henderson. My thanks go out to my blogging friend Cath for introducing the author to me. 

Today's pictures - Inauguration day at Windy Poplars Farm

Little Secrets cookies

This is a posting which references two earlier blog entries I've written. One is a a  'product placement' piece on Little Secrets candy. You may read it here.

The second entry is a chocolate chip cookie recipe from the Sugar in the Raw company. You may read it here.

A while ago I read someone's post on cookies made with M&Ms. Since then I've been thinking of making them with Little Secrets. I used the chocolate chip recipe just substituting Little Secrets for chocolate chips. I bought several varieties, and am making them once a week now.

Hazel Nina began going three mornings a week to a Montessori school in town. One of the days is a day Margaret works and we take care of her. So Pop brings her to school and when we pick her up and go to either her house or ours, we give her what we call 'Tuesday cookies' and milk. It's a fun little ritual.

This week I used the Dark Chocolate Raspberry variety. It was just the best feeling to not be using the horrible, cancer causing artificial colors that are in M&Ms.

I make a couple without candy for Lucy, and here she is waiting for her cookie.

And of course Hazel thinks they are great!

Today's poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The Library in the Garret
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Books, books, books!
I had found the secret of a garret-room
Piled high with cases in my father's name;
Piled high, packed large, - where, creeping in and out
Among the giant fossils of my past,
Like some small nimble mouse between the ribs
Of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there
At this or that box, pulling through the gap,
In heats of terror, haste, victorious joy,
The first book first. And how I felt it beat
Under my pillow, in the morning's dark,
An hour before the sun would let me read!
My books! ...

The poem was in the introduction to this book, which I borrowed from my daughter.

There is a book for each of the 365 days. I think I'm going to really enjoy this. I've already peeked ahead and seen many books I've never read.

The year began with Zadie Smith's White Teeth.

From the introduction:
Think of this as a tasting menu. It is my dearest hope that each taste will send you scurrying to your bookseller or library so you can read (or reread) that book, cover to cover.

Today's video/American Nights by Plain White T's

Here's a fun video by Plain White T's from a couple years ago. I might have to buy the album!

Read Scotland 2017 Challenge

I have these five books about Scotland

on my shelves, and some of them have been there for a long time. Year after year goes by, and I don't read them. So I thought I'd sign up for Peggy Ann's Read Scotland 2017 Challenge.

All the books are set on the Hebrides, and all but the Ann Cleeves are nonfiction. I own one other book set in Scotland, written by the late Iain Banks,

and I just may read this one as well, even though I've read it twice already. I wrote a little bit about it in a book journal before I had a blog.

The book is subtitled In Search Of The Perfect Dram.This book will appeal to - the whisky fan, the fan of author Banks' fiction work, and then me, who is neither one. I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It was like sitting in the living room (or at a bar!) with him. The writing is rambling, his thoughts seem to be written as he thinks them. What I like especially is his passion- for life, for Scotland, for whisky, for cars, for music, for fun.

It is time I read these books, and this is the perfect way to get myself to do so. I am reading at the 1-5 level called Totie Wee. You may join here at her blog, or on her Goodreads page here.