I’ll probably delete this in the morning.
The dragonfly
Is but a fly
With glittering wings,
A delicate thorax,
And shimmering colors.
It flits quite a bit,
It dazzles and whizzles
It circles and dizzles,
But I’ve never seen one –
Not once –
Ever –
Breathe fire.
Have you?
I’ll probably dizzle this in the morning.
When we got back from our time away, we discovered we were not alone in our house. Of course Luna was there to greet us with her urgent and accusative yowlings and meowings. It disappoints her greatly that we don’t just drop everything immediately and focus all our attentions on her, as if unpacking the car and trailer should wait for another hour or day entirely.
But when I did finally sit down and greet her properly, little flies were flitting about like they owned the place. Lots of them. Some investigative research showed that we had mistakenly left some coffee grounds in the compost bucket when we left. I took a peek into it, and seeing hordes of the tiny winged invaders, quickly shut it and took it outside where it sat until somebody cleaned it out. If you have guessed that this “somebody” was not me, you know me well.
Still, we were faced with the remainder of the army in the house. A dim memory surfaced…didn’t my friend Sherri have some sort of liquid trap in her house for just this kind of thing? The Internet came to my rescue once again: 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar with a few drops of dish soap, covered with plastic wrap that has holes in it. It’s been awfully satisfying to look at each day and see more fruit fly carcasses at the bottom. All’s fair in love and war.
We also got a couple store-bought fruit fly traps. They look like inviting little fruit fly hotels, but the fruit flies seem to prefer the homemade trap.
Now you know what to do if the fruit flies invade your house, may it never be.
“All the teeming life with wings are unclean to you;
they shall not be eaten.”
Deuteronomy 14:19
You’ll get no argument from me.
Fruit flies will infiltrate this post in the morning – it must be destroyed.
Some quotes to feed you this week:
I write to discover what I know.
I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.
Flannery O’Connor
This is so true about my writing as well. Good old FOC!
To study and not think is a waste.
To think and not study is dangerous.
Confucius
If Truth is on the battlefield,
let her and Falsehood grapple;
Who ever knew Truth put to worse
in a free and open encounter.
John Milton
All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those that wander are lost.
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
JRR Tolkien
For to know a man’s library is,
in some measure,
to know his mind.
Geraldine Brooks
Not all blog posts that glitter are gold and some must wither in the morning.
My last post was a month ago. We have been hither and yon and living lives of such abounding activity that the blog was abandoned. Some of you have probably been relieved not to get the regular emails with my posts attached. If that describes you, I have no rancor toward you whatsoever. And if you decide that it was such a relief that you might as well unsubscribe, I will cheer you on. However, for those of you who actually missed my little musings, bless you. It is for you that I write.
Now as to the abounding activities, here’s a sampling of them:
We got reacquainted with 5-month old “Darling,” and met brand-new granddaughter, “Sweetheart.” Sweetheart was still fresh from the womb, only 3 days old when we met her.
Later in the week we had a family reunion, which included the other two grands, “Lovey” and “Dovey.” Being grandparents is such a joy. And we’ve got another little dear coming in October!
We went to our favorite used book store. Twice. And bought books both times. We currently own 2,131 books, but that number not only doesn’t discourage us from accumulating more, it’s almost an incentive to keep going.
Bowling! Our bowling crew included the 5-year-old and 3-year-old, who used the bowling ball ramps to send their balls toward the pins. Their dad was chagrined to find that they scored better than him for both games.
Swimming! Well…swimming is a bit of a misnomer. Let’s just say that we were in swimming suits and were, in fact, in the water at the local water park.
Farmer’s Market! (I feel like I’ve gone a bit to the dark side with all of these exclamation points). I’m more of a window shopper at the FM usually, but this time I bought tiny doughnuts to share with our crowd, as well as a tiny book for putting tiny drawings into.
Add to that many meals eaten together, two birthdays celebrated, a family photo taken, a few movie nights, visits to thrift stores, conversations with old friends, church services (and the baptism of Sweetheart) and you’ll see why we slid under our sheets tired but happy every night.
O taste and see that the Lord is good!
I’ll probably reboot the reboot of this rebooted blog in the morning.
English muffins. How hard can it be to make them? Let me count the ways. You won’t be bored, I promise!
Batch #1 was straight outta the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook. We’ll call that one The BHG. Used our 3.5” biscuit cutter. Easy peasy without a huge time commitment, but they didn’t rise much and were a wee bit small for the egg sausage (or bacon) breakfast sandwiches that hubby likes to make. Also, there wasn’t much in the way of Nooks and Crannies, an important feature of EMs. By the way, you don’t bake these, you cook them on a griddle.
In search of a better recipe I went down the rat hole of google searching. Everyone thinks their recipe is the best. It would be refreshing to have someone say, “My recipe is fairly average, but everyone in my family likes it.” I checked Pinterest and YouTube as well. Overwhelmed by all the possibilities I chose one almost at random from Preppy Kitchen (PK).
Batch #2, The PK. The recipe was much fussier with more ingredients and took more time. I used one of our nice goblets (Grandma Lois’s) to get a larger diameter of 4 inches. The dough was hard to handle, the EM’s were sky high and expanded a bit while rising. I couldn’t get them to cook all the way through on the griddle and had to finish them in the oven. Decided to purchase a 4-inch cutter for the next batch. Discovered in my researches that the best way to open an EM is to insert a fork into the middle and go around the edge that way. Works like a charm!
Batch #3, Return of The BHG (not to be confused with Revenge of the BHG). Let’s review the definition of insanity: repeating the same actions and expecting different results. I thought I could improve upon the performance of The BHG which was so much simpler to make. The only difference to the final product was that these were even more like hockey pucks than the first batch. Hubby valiantly ate them anyway. Maybe it really was Revenge of the BHG.
Batch #4, Return of The PK. I was older and wiser by now and resigned to the idea that excellence was going to take more time and effort. I knew how to avoid the perils of the past and press on toward the goal of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Oops – sorry. Something in that sentence triggered one of my Bible memory verses. Progress was made. The final muffins were 5” in diameter, somewhat monstrously large in comparison to the store bought ones. My husband suggested they should be called “English Empire Muffins.” But they weren’t too high and I figured out a better way to cook them on the griddle without finishing them in the oven.
Voila!
What? You were bored? Oh dear. Perhaps “promise” was too strong a word.
Brought to you by the Kitchen Bee (closely related to Lynniebee). (Very closely.)
I’ll probably use a fork to break this post open in the morning.
I look at this photo of me and my brother way back when, and although I don’t remember that particular moment in time, I am brought back to summers of yore. What a delight on those hot days to jump into our little plastic backyard pool.
My memories of the summers of childhood are shot through with warmth, color, happy sounds, and the unique eating pleasures of the season. Back then our watermelons had seeds in them – is that a hardship story now?
We didn’t have air conditioning, another hardship story that wasn’t really too much of a hardship. Sleeping at night involved catching regular breezes from the oscillating fan and turning our pillows over to get to the cooler side once in a while. Uncomfortable, but not unbearable.
I’m certain that there must have been plenty of mosquitos in my life back then, but my brain has mercifully chosen to excise them from the nostalgia program that I’m currently enjoying.
I went barefoot all summer long in my childhood. The soles of my feet were tough as nails, unlike the weak and easily penetrated soles of today.
Dad took us swimming fairly frequently at the lake nearest to us, one of the advantages of living in the state of 10,000 lakes. And when we came back, Mom often had supper ready for us to eat in the cool of the back porch.
Life wasn’t always perfect, but strained through the passing of time my mind has selected only some of the best parts of those days to remember. Thank you, Lord!
I’ll probably delete this in the mornings of yore.
Half the world is composed of people
who have something to say and can’t, and the other half who have nothing to say and keep on saying it.
Robert Frost
I can’t imagine a man really enjoying a book
and only reading it once.
C.S. Lewis
Vulgarity is no substitute for wit.
Violet Grantham, Downton Abbey
Confidence is silent.
Insecurities are LOUD.
Unknown
The world does not read the Bible,
The world reads Christians.
Charles Spurgeon
If we trust, we do not worry.
If we worry, we do not trust.
Amy Carmichael
Rats, I picked out a bunch of nifty fonts for those quotes, but apparently WordPress does not support them. You’ll just have to imagine them.
Feel free to share quotes you enjoy in the comments.
I’ll probably realize I have nothing to say and keep on saying it in the morning.
Suppose you got news that a darling little fluffy seagull chick was just outside your domicile. Would you:
A. Jump up, grab your camera, and run out to get a photo, or
B. Say, “Oh, that’s interesting,” and go right on with what you were doing.
If you answered A, you are a kindred spirit. Read on. If you answered B, I wonder if you wandered into this blog post entirely by mistake. No one will fault you for leaving, but you may find the proceeding story will vindicate you.
As it happens, I did recently have an opportunity to jump up, grab my camera, and go in pursuit of the aforementioned baby seagull. I took a few photos, getting closer and closer. The baby didn’t seem to mind. I like to think that we were having a moment.
Suddenly, a loud noise interrupted my reverie, accompanied by the sight of a large seagull swooping down toward me.
I yelped and backed off, but was dive bombed twice more by this very protective parent as I tried to get away.
Since I yelped each time, the crowd of kids on the beach got quite a show. You’re welcome.
Fun times!
If you hear me yelping in the morning, you’ll know I had to delete this.
As I’ve been getting ready to publish another post in the “Grave Musings” series (my visits to cemeteries), I went back to the very first one that I published 4 years ago. I had high hopes and plans for my cemetery visits that summer. I made a list of about 20 local cemeteries and thought I could knock them all out in one summer. I ended up doing a total of 10 posts, mostly in 2020 and one in 2021 and then my Grave Musings fell silent. Here for your enjoyment is a repost (and link) of the first one with a link to the next one if you just can’t help yourself.
Friday, June 12, 2020. Grave Musings I Maple Lawn I
Yesterday was the Grand Inauguration of my Grave Musings Summer Program (heretofore abbreviated to Grave Musings). As you may recall, I’ve decided to visit all our local cemeteries this summer with each visit containing the following elements: picnic, camera, notebook, watercolor supplies, and a book. Also, maybe a playlist of nice music to accompany all of this. You are no doubt familiar with the phrase that starts out “The best-laid plans of mice and men oft go astray…”
Here’s how it went. First of all, it was a really gusty day. I’ve tried picnicking on windy days and if you don’t mind chasing napkins around or keeping a tight grip on everything at all times, it’s not bad. But I was aiming for a pleasant experience, so I tossed the picnic out of the plan and ate lunch at home in the comfort of our gazebo, whist watching an episode of Stargate.
Next I assembled all of the essential ingredients for the rest of the plan and packed them in my sparkling new carry bag.
My husband had suggested bringing a little folding table we bought for camping, so that went in the car with the rest. I’m all set!
Upon arrival at the Maple Lawn cemetery, I took one crappy photo of the entrance sign and then drove in and around the perimeter to get a good feel for the layout.
I decided to establish my command center near the grave marker for Taopi, a Native American chieftain who converted to Christianity. More on him in another post.
I made my way back to Taopi’s marker and while parking the car, realized that I had forgotten the one item upon which all the other plans would rest: a chair. In addition, I had hoped for a cozy and private experience; the five-acre cemetery was empty except for one other person, also parked near Taopi’s grave, and enjoying a lunch inside her car. It shouldn’t have made a difference… it shouldn’t have, but it did.
Thwarted at every turn, I decided to drive on and pull over occasionally to get out and look at gravestones. I spoke aloud the names that I read; when I saw a particularly old marker I made a special effort to read the engravings that had become encrusted with lichen and were marred by age.
I keep an eye out for epitaphs: poems, Bible verses, etc. I saw one done in Braille and wondered what it said. Others were in German.
I took a few photos, but hadn’t been there long when nature began to call and I am, alas, at an age where that’s a call that can’t be ignored. Farewell, Maple Lawn!
Grave Musings shall return to this wonderful old cemetery…with a chair. And another post shall ensue.
Next: Grave Musings 2 Maple Lawn II
I’ll probably delete this in the morning.
I spent a couple hours today happily doing research on the cemetery I just visited with my friends Lori and Teresa. I took lots of photos of gravestones and was trying to see if I could find additional information on some of these people on the interwebs, even though they all died in the 1800’s (or most of them). I felt the lure of Ancestry.com, which would make my research so much easier. But Ancestry.com is Expensive.com, so for now I’m just taking the peasant’s approach by googling names and seeing what comes up. If you have a better idea that is still free, do let me know.
Anyway (I do get to blathering), in my researches, I came across a document of information about people who lived in our area back in the day. I didn’t have time to read them all, but as I was scanning down the list, my eyes were arrested by the headline “Killed By A Joke.” Let me share with you the sad story of what happened to poor Mrs. Mahamuel, as reported in The Aitkin Age on July 22, 1893.
“Mrs. Duhac, a widow daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Mahamuel, was visiting her parents in Rice County. Joseph Duchene, a young farmer living in the vicinity, called one evening to see Mrs. Duhac. The young people in the neighborhood thought they would have some fun when they saw Joe go there, and went to Mahamuel’s residence to charivari the people. Mrs. Mahamuel, when she heard the horrible noises, went out to interview the crowd. They ran down the road and she followed them. About 15 minutes afterward one of the neighbors, who was passing by, found the old lady lying in the road dead, her face being buried in the dust.”
Well! They don’t write obituaries like that anymore! I had to look up “charivari,” so I’m going to assume you don’t know what that is either: “A mock serenade of discordant noises, made with kettles, tin horns, etc., designed to annoy and insult.” Rude.
I really want to give awkward kudos to the person who came up with the title “Killed By A Joke,” to describe the passing of Mrs. M. I’m still not actually sure how she died, are you? Did she die of fright? Overexertion? And why didn’t any of those young people help her out? How awful to have a prank go wrong in such a disturbing way. I respect Mrs. M. for getting off her comfortable chair to go “interview” the crowd. The way that’s phrased, you can almost imagine her out there like a roving reporter. “Could you tell me what your name is and why you are banging on kettles outside our home?” And then she followed them when they ran off! Yes, Mrs. M. had an admirable amount of moxie. I like to think of her fixing her steely eyes on those rabble rousing youth and scaring them off.
For man also knoweth not his time;
as the fishes that are taken in an evil net,
and as the birds that are caught in the snare,
so are the sons of men snared in an evil time,
when it falleth suddenly upon them.
Ecclesiastes 9:12
Mrs. Mahamuel, the evil times fell suddenly upon you. I hope you were ready to meet your Lord.
I’ll probably bury this one in the dust in the morning.,
Several of you put forth some ideas for my dilemma about wanting to step up a notch or two in the way I set my table for guests. Thank you! Here’s what I ended up with:
Now I find that a table setting mania has settled over me. One of you mentioned the idea of using a bold splash of yellow and I found a couple items that I might purchase in the future.
I was surprised to see that you can get attractive paper napkins like the above (which tells you just how far out of touch with this part of the world I’ve been). There’s some appeal to this because these don’t need to be washed and ironed.
Last but certainly not least, an old friend and loyal reader of this blog contributed a quilted table runner that she had made! It’s gorgeous! Thank you, Lori!
All in all, this has been a very rewarding experience and I’ve been blessed by your contributions. I thought you might like to hear (and see) the rest of the story. You just never know what’s going to show up on this blog, do you? I don’t, that’s for sure.
If the table runner doesn’t catch up with the napkins, I’ll be deleting this in the morning.
Lynniebeemuseoday 