first frost

today i finished out my garden for the summer - meaning, i ripped out all the remaining plants so now there is just a long row of dirt sprinkled with weeds and a lost tomato here and there. i was really putting off this day; i didn't want the need for me to tend it to cease. but it frosted last night, so everything was blackened and wilted anyway (except for the rosemary plant! i dug it up and potted it, and hope to nurse it through the winter months).

so i finished. but i didn't want to be finished. after the work i chose a grassy patch at the end of my row, and lied down in it, and was still. i stayed there for quite a while, thinking about my garden and the earth and the cycle of things and life in general and my life in particular. the sun felt so warm, like being in the middle of a just-baked bread pudding. so many birds singing of their lives - crows and chickadees and goldfinches and sparrows and a dozen others i couldn't recognize - and the crickets too, of course. and the grasses, played upon by the winds. some small (i hope) and unseen insect crawling on my leg. i forget sometimes that i/we share the universe with all these. the sun and the grasses and the beetles and the dirt... we all exist here together on this earth-place. it delighted and awed me to remember that this little song sparrow on the wire and i, we both have a place here, and in some ways depend on each other. this harlequin cabbage beetle (who ate holes in the bok choy! i guess he likes it as much as me) is beautiful in its completeness and intricacies. i don't know how to explain better what i was feeling... just a sense of good and of wholeness.

so now i must include another poem by mary oliver (the last four parts are best)...

Peonies
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 recklnessness
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?

carpet is scratchy

i need to make more grape pie for its healing qualities, but i have no grapes.

i'm listening to brahm's requiem because it is one of my grandfather's favorite pieces, and it is beautiful, and it reminds me of him.

there is goldenrod in a quart mason jar on the table, like feathers of sun. there is also a purple thistle, prickly.

what does it all mean?

i had a dream this week that i found a baby polar bear. unfortunately the mama polar bear then found me and i was running away. she was big, and agressive, and not happy. yikes. then the very next night i had a dream that there was a venemous snake in my bed, and i was terrified to move for fear that it would bite me. i came to find out the next day that the very night i had that dream my brother-in-law was out looking for snakes (herping, they call it. i call it snaking). i figured he was behind it all, and it turns out i was right. thanks, josh.

at this moment i'm trying to knit and write letters at the same time... and typing this too, apparently. it's not working well. something else that didn't work well today: i made cookies that ended in disaster. not really disaster, just, not cookies. i wanted crispy-chewy mounds of oatmeal sesame raisin and ended up with a pile of some sort of granola look-alike. sigh. fortunately i had already made shortcake, at the request of my housemate heidi since she had strawberries, and it at least was a success. i put a bit of roasted cornmeal in the batter for a different texture... it was good. maybe a little too corny, but still good. we ate it for lunch, which probably wasn't the best decision. i say that every time i eat cookies or something similar for lunch, but i don't seem to be learning my lesson. all vegetables tomorrow.

spinning

i saw an inchworm the other day.  i nearly squashed him, on accident.  they're pretty fascinating to watch, how they inch along.  wouldn't it be funny if we moved that way.  here's a poem i've been thinking about, written by mary oliver:

--------

When the Roses Speak, I Pay Attention

"As long as we are able to

be extravagant we will be

hugely and damply

extravagant.  Then we will drop

foil by foil to the ground.  This

is our unalterable task, and we do it

joyfully."

And they went on.  "Listen,

the heart-shackles are not, as you think,

death, illness, pain, unrequited hope, not loneliness, but

lassitude, rue, vainglory, fear, anxiety,

selfishness."

Their fragrance all the while rising 

from their blind bodies, making me

spin with joy.

--------

for clarity...

lassitude = exhaustion, weariness

rue = regret, wish to be undone

vainglory = excessive vanity, boastfulness

end of an era

how surreal. my youngest, my baby sister, was married yesterday. i still feel surprised when i see her sometimes - in my mind she's still a little 6 year old and i'm crawling under the bed looking for her shoes. and now i have a kind-of brother. yep... none of this has sunken in yet. here are some highlights of the last four days:
-the most amazing nap in the hammock (the second-best ever, actually). i cannot describe how enjoyable it was.
-the downpour right before b's wedding. i loved it! how memorable. us all running for the shelter house, getting wet. no instruments got wet.
-hearing one of my favorite bob marley songs unexpectedly three times: on the radio driving home, in a movie, playing while decorating... i think it's called "three little birds"
-hanging out with my family, and my aunts and uncles (my mom's siblings). they live all over the place so we don't get to see them all together much. we had a great time dancing together!
-singing with my sister em. we always do when we're together, and it's probably one of my favorite things to do. i wish we could more.

the end.

what i've been doing

so i've gotten on here several times in the last 24 days with intentions to write something, but then didn't. i think i'm too stuck on wanting things (like my thoughts) to be neat and tidy and entire, and when i can't make them come out that way i just get frustrated. but this is my blog, so i guess i can just do whatever i want and let things be as disjointed as they end up being. fancy that.

i learned a word today: clodpate, which refers to a foolish or bone-headed person. i then felt like a clodpate over looking up a word in the dictionary (an abridged one, mind you) that didn't actually exist. i can't help it that i believe people too much! well now i know. my clodpate moment for the day. : ) what a great word, though.

more and more baking... my motivation to cook actual food is waning (when cooking for myself, anyway) and it seems that the baking and making of sweetish things grows! let's see... there were little rhubarb tartlets, and there was a french silk pie, and a sour cherry pie, and a hazelnutty-chocolate birthday cake, and maybe some chocolate-chocolate chip cookies in there somewhere. oh, and some rhubarb-strawberry ice cream-type thing. i'd like to make this rosemary pound cake with stewed apples that i made a year or so ago, but i can't find my directions... just experiment i guess. i have been called a mad scientist. i will be baking this weekend more - cookies for my sister's wedding reception (pecan rounds and mint layer brownies) and a rhubarb pie and something else yet to be determined for a lunch gathering on sunday. baking and feeding people makes me glad.

i think i'd like to try writing poetry more. it's something to practice, like anything, and i think i'll just start writing odds and ends without worrying about the end result. maybe what i'm writing isn't even poetry, but i'll call it that because it's in short lines. i re-found two that i had written in the last couple months. i don't have them right here at the moment but maybe i'll put them on this thing later. here's one for right now!

a slender leaf
a gnat
both on the other side of this window
but the sun! the sun
patchy and warm on my feet

may is no more

I'm writing this mainly because today is June 1, and if I wait until tomorrow it will be June 2. Which is my half-birthday, actually.
I'm thinking about stopping at a donut shop in Lancaster that I heard about - apparently they have the best donuts in the world. It's called "Donut World" and it's the size of a closet, so I'm told.
My life-long friend Rachel is married (which is good! she and Yohanan are better together than apart) and I'm filled with joy for her and them, but changes are always a process. They're off to Seattle.
My dad has a motorcycle now. It's red and I'm going to drive it soon.
I have to go drive in my car now.

merton

"Now at last let me begin to live by faith. Quaerite primum regnum Dei. Seek first the kingdom of God. Why do I mistrust Your goodness, mistrust everyone but myself, meet every new event on the defensive, squared off against everybody?
Dear Lord, I am not living like a monk, like a comtemplative. The first essential is missing. I only say I trust You. My actions prove that the one I trust is myself - and that I am still afraid of You.
Take my life into Your hands at last. Do whatever You want with it. I give myself to Your love. I mean to keep on giving myself to Your love - rejecting neither the hard things nor the pleasant things You have arranged for me. It is enough for me that You have glory. Everything You have planned is good. It is all love."
- Thomas Merton

I have read this, thought it, prayed it... and the more I do the more I realize my lack of trust. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be fully trusting of God. He won't be restricted by the shapes I like to fit him into... so do we just come to him each day and say "help"? I will.

pentecost-chocolate-espresso cake

Cake!  I love cake.  This is what I made last weekend:

a dense not-ridiculously-sweet chocolate cake with ganache (made with milk rather than cream) between layers, then iced with espresso-chocolate buttercream.  I made the espresso in my little metal stove-top espresso maker that I found at Salvation Army [Emily, like yours only bigger!].  It all turned out quite good, I think, and I would make it again.  Next time some sort of hazelnut-something should be included.  It's called Pentecost Cake because I was told the day on which we ate it was Pentecost.  That's about all I have to say about it.  And that I would eat more of it right now...  

please-stop-breaking-my-heart tart

That is the name I gave to this newest creation (thanks to Andrea for the picture):

There's a close-up picture too but I can't get it to work right now.  

If you're wondering what it consists of... I started with an oatmeal-sugar cookie crust (with a bit of nutmeg) and added layers of caramel and chocolate, and then crumbled the rest of the cookie substance on top.  Then it baked.

I made the Please-Stop-Breaking-My-Heart Tart because, well, the name is pretty obvious why.  There are a number of things making my insides ache right now, but specifically I made it in response to the crushing sadness I feel for a person currently at the TH.  There's part of me that is upset and maybe angry, but mostly just sad.  Because things are so broken, spirits are broken.  Because people aren't loved, or believe that they are beyond hope, and get shuffled from one temporary family to another.  Because sometimes it seems impossible to resist despair.  I wonder and cry, "God, where are you?!"  I want to dream great and beautiful things for the people I love, but fear that those hopes will never be realized, and sometimes I can't handle the thought of that.  I guess part of me is afraid of God still...

... and so what do I do?  Keep making tarts, I suppose.  Keep hoping for wholeness to come, because I think we were made for that - that God intends to make us whole.  Keep aching for a time to come when God Himself will wipe away tears for the last time and look us full in the face, and we Him - even the things that now seem hopeless, even the small, forgotten, or insignificant ones.  When his people will be called Sought After and No Longer Deserted, when the broken shards of hearts will be put back together and ultimate comfort will come.  Beauty will crown heads, gladness will replace mourning, praise will devour despair.  And if I take the time to notice, I can see some of these things now.  

So yes, I will keep making tarts.  And pies.  And anything else that may contain some sort of healing property. 

mostly pie

Pie has been happening these days. I guess I'm in a pie phase. So far there have been two:

#1: The Half-Marathon Brownie Pie - gooey brownie-coconut substance on the bottom, custard on top with toasted coconut. Not too bad for a fruitless pie.

#2: Grandma Wilson's Strawberry Pie - not my own creation, but handed down several generations from my dad's grandmother. She and her husband had a farm in Washington C.H. where my dad spent every summer working. He has great stories of meals there and the amazing food she would make. This pie is my dad's favorite, and I like it just because I know it symbolizes happy memories for my dad and is something tangible that helps me connect with my relatives and heritage.

I haven't really cooked much else recently, although I have plans for pizza. Oh I need pizza. I did have meat log in barbeque-ish sauce with my friends last night, and popcorn. Then we went to an art show opening that I didn't really understand, but there was a suspended tent with a moss carpet beneath. I felt confused, but I liked the moss. Then the bowl of popcorn ended up on Jenny's head (also art) and I drove away to check my seedlings. It was dark by then... so there was no checking. I just hope the tomatoes germinate soon...

nothing's coming to mind

Here's a snippet from the end of a book I recently read - C.S. Lewis’ Perelandra, the second in his space trilogy. The Green Woman, an inhabitant of this planet, is speaking to Ransom, who is from earth. On this world most of the land is floating islands that swell and drift with the waves and currents, but there is also a Fixed Land (land as earth inhabitants think of it) on which Maledil (who made them) instructed them not to live. She finally understands why:

“The reason for not yet living on the Fixed Land is now so plain. How could I wish to live there except because it was Fixed? And why should I desire the Fixed except to make sure – to be able on one day to command where I should be the next and what should happen to me? It was to reject the wave – to draw my hands out of Maledil’s, to say to Him, ‘Not thus, but thus’ – to put in our own power what times should roll towards us… as if you gathered fruits together to-day for to-morrow’s eating instead of taking what came. That would have been cold love and feeble trust. And out of it how could we ever have climbed back into love and trust again?”

Something to think about.

Other things that have been on my mind or in my days: learning to identify bird songs and calls (or trying anyway), trying to coax Calvin into eating more crickets, running, thinking about making pies, music I want to play, being with people I care about, hope for the garden and planting seeds, trying to decide if I can get away with baking everyday. I probably can't, but wouldn't it be nice to have a little bakery? I may just start doing that and spontaneously showing up at people's houses with creations to share. Or overwhelming my coworkers with experiments to try.

funny dreams

I had a funny dream last night that I wanted to write about but now, of course, it has faded and I can't remember a thing about it. Lots of time I have lucid dreams, which I think means dreams in which you're aware that you're dreaming. I like those.

Here's a real dream, one I've had for many years: to get a big old house (preferably on a chunk of good land), fix it up, and make it a home for children. I don’t know what kind of children… just ones who need a family, a home. I want these children to know they are loved, to experience acceptance and some kind of stability and love that cares enough to discipline and provide boundaries; to learn of the kind but troubled things in life, and the wild things, and the wonderful passionate things. To know they are safe. To give hugs. To value work and play and to know what dirt feels like and how to mix water and flour to make bread. To be a constant, a community. Maybe this dream could look like… adopting a lot of kids. Or maybe working in an already-established home like this. Or maybe just living. Or maybe it means something else. It just seems that we’re not given strong feelings if they were for nothing or meaningless. At the least they must be there to further shape our thinking, our hearts, even if they don’t work themselves out in a literal or tangible way. So if anyone has any old, awesome houses they need a use for, let me know.

four good things from the earth

Earlier this week I was out running on a wet morning, and was rewarded by encountering four creatures that I like. First, two birds: an Eastern Pheobe, which has been gone all winter, and then a Pileated Woodpecker, which is always an amazing bird to see. I was pretty excited about those and was thinking about them, when I looked down and almost stepped on a little salamander! Yellow-murky brown with bright orange dots. Delightful. Then not 20 yards later I came across a good-sized land snail, inching along. I brought him home with me, though I'll release him soon. He's in a jar and not very happy, but also not dead.

So these things are gifts. I recognize that pretty easily, because I'm delighted by them, and it seems natural. There are other things that are gifts too, though I may not ask for them or believe I want them. But they have been given to me. I'm not much of a poetry-reader, but recently I've discovered a poet named Mary Oliver, and I read this by her the other day:

The Uses of Sorrow
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.


I think there probably are many boxes of darkness stashed away, and hopefully I can find some use for them.

a short write

I didn't sleep last night, again, although this time I could blame it on my parents' couch. I should have moved to the spare bed, but once you get warm (and there's a pellet stove blowing hot air four feet from you) why move? I was feeling frazzled all evening (changes in plans does that to me sometimes, and purchasing large things I don't understand, like cars) and was resolved to just watch tv until my mind stopped... which turned into watching a movie (Once, I think it was called), but after about an hour of that I just wasn't really interested. so I read. I'm nearly finished with a book of selected writings of Dorothy Day, and she's been giving me much to think on. Too much - I feel like I have to pick and choose. There are a lot of things I'd like to write about here, and maybe later I'll put some thoughts, but not this morning. She talks a lot about love, and the difficulty of actually loving people in action and not just in dreams. She quotes a character from The Brothers Karamazov when she says, "Love in practice is a harsh and dreadful thing compared to love in dreams." It's even dangerous to write of such things; it is so easy just to talk, to be stirred in my heart while my life remains unchanged. Well I want to say more about this but my time is limited. To end, the other short tidbit from her (she was speaking of their community in general) that I wrote on a scrap of paper says, "We want land, bread, work, children, and the joys of community in play and work and worship." Yes. These are good things, many of the important things that life boils down to. I want to live more in a way that embraces these simple, meaningful things. I want to love more deeply and truly. I want to write more about these things and share them (which scares me a little), but now I really have to get dressed and go buy a little car. I think it is blue.

Good morning, sun. Good morning, chickadee and wood-pewee.

chomp

This morning I finally witnessed Calvin eating a cricket. It was a big one, too, all wiggly. I wonder what it's like to eat something whole that's alive and that's as big as your head. Do different crickets have different flavors? I might not mind a cricket if it was covered in peanuty-chocolate substance - like Reese's Puff cereal, which is basically corn balls covered in candy.

My mind's been pretty active recently (mainly the last 48 hours or so), which means I've been writing a lot, which equals good. I've been a little disappointed in the fact that I've been pretty lazy lately, thinking-wise, or feel like I have anyway. I've been thinking and writing about: death and the beauty and meaning of steadfast, sacrificial love; of not being insulated from pain and brokenness; of reading books written by people I value and learn from, some written on paper but most written on lives, on my life; and seeing lives of young women I've met here and not understanding why I'm not them, and it hurts. I've been talking about these things too, which is extra good.

i like boxes

It's true. I prefer boxes that are surprises and that contain secret contents, but I'll also accept packages that come to my door because I told them to. For example, two days in a row this week I got home from work at night and there was a box on my porch! Two days! Amazing. Of course I knew what they were - a dress for my sister's wedding, and shoes to go with it the next day - but still... I guess all I need to do to keep myself happy is to order something every week or so. Happy thought indeed.

the new me

One of the people at the Timothy House said the greatest thing to me today. We were walking up the basement stairs and he asked if I ever did any skateboarding when I was younger. That's a weird question, I thought; he can't be serious. I replied with a wary and surprised "no" - aside from my yellow Banana Board from when I was 6 or something (remember that, Em?). And then I asked, "Do I look like a skater?" and he totally thought I did! He said something about my demeanor and the way my hair fell across my eyes looking very skaterish. "No way!" I said. "Yeah!" he said. Then my friend Amanda chimed in, verifying this apparent "hipness", as she put it, that I wasn't aware of having. I think I can honestly say that I've never been involved in such a conversation before. I think I'd like to have a skater alias; any suggestions?

firsts

Finally, finally I got out my first, newly-received-as-a-gift sewing machine. It makes a mean straight stitch, let me tell you. Pretty exciting. Looking forward to finishing my 1914 dress.

Another first: rutabagas. Scaly and earthy-looking, not as peppery as turnips. That's what I hear, anyway. I have yet to eat them, but they look great and rustic on my sideboard.

And another food first: tarts. The great thing about tarts is that you make them in a tart pan. Mine (and I think most) have scalloped edges and are shallow and just look cool. So I made a blackberry one, and then a smaller one with honey curd that was delicious in a sweet almondy crust.

geckos

I just wanted to anounce the recent acquisition of a new lizard friend that is not a dinosuar and that is actually real and not an acrylic painting from my head. It's Calvin the leopard gecko! If you haven't met him, you should, because he's great. He doesn't look leopardy yet because he's young... so right now he's mostly orange with black markings. He has a log-cave and some rock structures in which he likes to hide, or crawl around on if he's feeling spry. He also has a jungle-leaf plant which he crawls up into sometimes, hiding. He eats live crickets (sorry crickets) and they must be delicious to him because he eats a lot. I'll put a picture here at a later time. Maybe I'll even paint a picture of him.

Pets are fun, but sometimes I feel bad about them. There is a difference, though, between caging a wild animal and having a pet that was born in captivity. The second doesn't know anything different; the cage and immediate surroundings are its world, and that's all it knows. And so the animal can enjoy its life. It would be amazing to have a wild animal for a pet, like a squirrel or chipmunk or something, but it already knows about life on its own and it would be too sad to contain it. I found a wild snail once and put it in a jar, but I either killed it or it went into hibernation or just lost its will to live... poor Cecil the snail.

bits and pieces

It's 2008 today, and seems an appropriate time to examine life. Socrates said that "The unexamined life is not worth living." That's a pretty strong statement, and it compels me. Ask if you want to hear more on that subject.

Christmas was fun with my family - ALL of us together for a day. We were pretty lazy all day, but it's good to have some days like that. I think i had several great naps that day.

My mom and sister Em visited last week, which was fun. A visit to O'Betty's was a highlight for them. Can't go wrong there. Then my dear friend Rachel came for a day, which meant a lot as she lives in the Chicago area. It's such a gift to have a friendship built over so many years... it gives lots of opportunities to show grace to each other. And faithfulness.

Then there was the turkey fiasco... please read my friend Andrea's explanation of that epic tale. She explains it well. I'm not really feeling at peace with turkeys much now. I have my own turkey problem taking up the majority of my little fridge, but it's looking hopeful that it soon may be out of my life. Lesson learned.

I just found a little poem about the moon that I had learned while living in Bolivia... I've been trying to remember it, but couldn't. Then I remembered that you can find just about anything on the internet. Amazing. So here it is (part of it, anyway).

Luna lunera, cascabelera,
ojos azules, boca morena.

Last night I accidently ended up at the waterfall; I think some unseen Force must have brought me there. My heart had had no peace all day. Running hard through the field by the birch trees didn't help, even playing the piano for quite a while didn't bring any release, and I felt more frustrated and sad than ever. It's wanting to say everything at once, but being stopped by some stubborn wall of fear. Well, problem not solved, but the falling water must have done something. I was reminded of being alone with God. And of courage. More on that later.