Oh, the joys of summer days! And yes, I still say that after we had two days of extreme heat and humidity.
Our Hallelujah Garden is full of gladsome color – photos and p’raps poems to come in future posts.
Last week with two friends I visited an old forgotten cemetery that has been uncovered and restored. Blog post to come. It’s been a long time since I posted in my Grave Musings series and I am looking forward to it.
After some feedback from faithful blog readers, I’ve gotten some items to dress up our dinner table when we have guests. Thank you! Photos and musings to come.
But at least today I can share with you some water coloring I’ve been doing lately.
No, that’s not for somebody named “Art,” although my father-in-law would qualify. I thought I might string those together and hang them somewhere in the craft room.
A butterfly and many dragonflies. I feel unsettled about the butterfly. It looks somewhat poorly proportioned. If you got that on a card in the mail, would you wonder why the butterfly is sagging a bit or would the gold paint distract you from all of its flaws?
The dragonflies were my attempt to follow a tutorial I found in which you put four dots of paint in a small square and make the dragonfly wings from those. The artist made it look so easy! You can infer from that statement anything you want.
You will show me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Psalm 16:11
Many words were deleted in the production of this post and perhaps more will be in the morning.
I’d run across something on YouTube that talked about red light therapy (AKA low-level light therapy). I consulted with Dr. Google to learn more. RLT is touted to work on a cellular level to reduce inflammation to help with:
Joint pain relief Nerve pain relief Wound healing Hair Loss Brain and mental health Anti-aging effect on the skin Weight loss Tendinopathy Knee osteoarthritis Plantar fasciitis pain Chronic low back pain Fibromyalgia pain
Sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it? I did a search to see if anybody in our fair town featured red light therapy and found one place. This will probably be absurdly expensive, I thought to myself, but I called to inquire. “It’s $10 for one hour,” the receptionist told me. Only ten bucks? Sign me up!
I brought some books to read figuring there wouldn’t be much else to do during my hour of RLT. The receptionist showed me into the private room and showed me how to turn the light on, telling me that I could leave before the hour was up, but it cost $10 no matter what. For only $5 more you could also turn on the sauna which is supposed to help. I declined. See my previous post about being frugal.
I settled into the little room, put my books on the bench next to me and turned on the light. GAH!!!! My eyes! I felt like Gollum encountering the sun after living under a mountain for hundreds of years. “It’s too bright, precious!” Sitting there for an hour suddenly seemed very daunting, but I’m no quitter. I would be paying for one hour, I will sit here for one hour in my shorts and tank top to get maximum exposure to these healing rays.
I tried reading for a while, but it was dreadfully difficult to concentrate while under the piercing gaze of those lights. I think I would have confessed to just about anything, if asked. Normally you think of basking in the light, but this was more like baking. As the time went on I got really hot. I became obsessed with the idea that the receptionist had forgotten that I didn’t want the sauna on. “She turned it on by accident, that’s what happened,” I was muttering.
To succor myself, I sang all four stanzas of the the hymn “Rise Again Ye Lion Hearted,” which we had recently memorized. “Mid the lion’s roaring, songs of praise outpouring. Joyously they take their stand, on th’arena’s bloody sand.” I felt rather sheepish complaining about the glare and heat of the red light lamps while singing about the martyrs and their brave deaths in the coliseum. Also, I fervently hoped that no one could hear me singing.
Weirdly, after I finished singing, some sort of radio came on in the RLT room. I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off and was unreasonably irritated by it. In fact, I was so hot I was unreasonably irritated by everything. I popped out of the room a couple times to cool off. The RLT room was a small glassed-walled room inside another room, so I still had my privacy.
The minutes seemed elongated, like some strange effect of the light. At last, the time was over. I got dressed (you don’t think I’m going to wander around town in shorts and a tank top at my age, do you?) and went out to pay the receptionist and ask about the sauna and the music. No, she hadn’t turned on the sauna. No, she hadn’t turned on the music. Hmmm.
Would I do it again? Absolutely! But not too soon. I don’t know if you can really get the effects from one hour of exposure, but I could see doing it 2-3 times a month. Next time I’ll know what to expect. And so will you.
I’ll probably expose this post to RLT in the morning. Maybe it will help.
What’s the difference between frugal and just plain cheap? I hope you can tell me.
I have a favorite purse. It’s not too big, it’s not too small. It’s a purse that would suit Goldilocks: it’s just right.
Into this happy fairy tale, a sad note must be interjected. The straps kept coming off of this nearly perfect purse. It seemed like too much work to try to sew them back in, so I used large safety pins for a while. Clearly I’m not driven by fashion.
Let’s switch to Cinderella. Like Cinderella’s shoe, the safety pins just did not want to stay and would occasionally pop off. And there would be my purse, on the floor looking sad. And with no handsome prince to pick it up, either.
I could order a replacement. The purse was less than $30 after all. But why should I throw away my Goldilocks purse just because the straps were like Cinderella’s shoe?
I went to a shoe repair store and asked them how much they’d charge to sew the straps back. They’d do it for $15. Very reasonable and only half the cost of buying a new one. Of course I did not agree to this reasonable cost. Why should I pay them $15 when I could still find a way to do it for free?
The purse wouldn’t fit under the foot of my sewing machine. I’d have to sew it by hand. I asked my husband to punch a small hole through the leather strap and the purse so I could fit a large needle through with extra tough thread. We are now in the Shoemaker and the Elves story, if you hadn’t figured it out, with my husband playing the part of one of the elves. I had to play the part of the other elf, the one who did the actual sewing. Those elves are completely underrated – it’s hard work. I’ve only completed one strap and the repair job looks ugly. Regrets, I’ve had a few.
Frugal or just plain cheap? You decide!
Sigh…I’ll probably pay you $15 to delete this in the morning.
What do these three books have in common? Aside from the fact that I received them as used books, very little…except for the fact that I found within each of them something left by the previous owner. I actually love it when that happens, so much so that I’m tempted to plant things purposefully in books we give away.
Here are the intriguing enclosures I found within:
The watercolor class book contained part of a letter written in thin, spidery handwriting and signed by Lisa. I read the letter – no simple feat with that handwriting – and found a reference to the topic at hand: “Thanks for the water color paper it’s so nice to have the real stuff as the paint behaves totally differently.” And later Lisa adds, “I’m amazed at what I’ve been able to learn from a book. I’m just so impatient!” She tells her correspondent of their plans to go to Athens, and then to Paris, Naxos and ___ on the way to Turkey. From a reference she makes later, it sounds like she’s traveling with her Dad. I’m imagining that she’s writing to her sister, or maybe a best friend, someone who gave her the Watercolor Class book, knowing she was going on an interesting world tour where she’d be exposed to a lot of art. I hope Lisa got more out of that book than I did. I might ending up giving it away, too, passing Lisa’s letter on to the next person.
The King’s Daughter (which I just read for the first time and LOVED) had a name inside the cover telling me that it was previously owned by a fellow named Andy. The book contained a tiny piece of paper on which is neatly printed the German words: “Ich habe ein Frage.” Very intriguing! I googled it and found out it means “I have a question.” Then I turned the piece of paper over and found the neatly printed words “I have a question.” Ha ha! I have a question, too. Andy, did you put that in the book because it was appropriate to the content? Are you learning German and making little flashcards for yourself, one of which got made into a tiny bookmark? Questions abound, Andy!
Lastly, the Peanuts cartoon was found in The Saturday Big Tent Wedding Party. Sally says to Charlie Brown “What are the words you hate most to hear?” Snoopy thinks his answer: “You stay home now and be a good dog.” Perhaps the previous owner of the book was a dog lover who found Snoopy’s thoughts to resonate strongly based on his/her own dog. Or maybe it was just a random comic strip that was readily at hand to use as a bookmark.
If you’re a curious person like me, these little oddments are like finding a tiny pieces of treasure. What kinds of things have you found in used books? Do tell!
I’ll probably stuff this in a book and give it away in the morning.
This is yours truly kissing my Grandma Lois on the cheek. Now that I have grandchildren old enough to do that, I know what pleasure it must have given her.
Having a good laugh with my own granddaughter when she was about the age that I was in the above photo. I wonder if she thinks I’m as ancient as I thought my own grandmother was…
Musings…
I’ll probably delete this ancient blog in the morning.
We have a largish fountain in the front yard and a smallish one in the back (an embarrassment of fountain riches). For the first time in 20 years of living here, our tiny little ponds have attracted a pair of mallards.
Is it just me, or is her beak longer than his? Lately, the mister has been showing up by himself, which makes me wonder if his lady love is nesting nearby. Will they bring their darling ducklings to our pond? Is that a good thing? They’re fun to watch, but it’s not all glistening green necks and plump feathery bodies on orange legs and feet. They’re also leaving their ducky calling cards on the edge of our front fountain. What if their new habitat catches on and we have a veritable mallard tourism site in the years to come?
Stay tuned.
In the meantime, I’ve developed quite the relationship with a rabbit doe who likes our perennial garden. I call her “Willow.” You ask how I know she’s a she? I was privy to a very public courtship between Willow and an ardent admirer of hers. Although she rebuffed his advances, he kept chasing her around the garden. When he’s not around, she comes surprisingly close to me, perhaps it’s because I’ve honed my sedentary skills to an art and I seem more like an unmoving part of the garden landscape. As much as we’ve hit it off, I have strongly discouraged her attempts to build a nest in the garden by putting our scare owl in the hole she started to dig. Sorry, Willow. I like you but I can’t have you ruining our garden.
Willow eats our dandelions, which endears her to me.
I’ll probably use a scare owl to ruin this post in the morning.
I’ve always appreciated a beautifully set table – you know the kind: cloth placemats, cloth napkins, perhaps a nice table runner and centerpiece, maybe even a tablecloth. But I’ve never really done that myself. On a purely practical level it didn’t make sense to do it on a daily basis with six children making all manner of mess while they eat. Sometimes the adults made messes too. But I didn’t do it when we had guests over either, partly because my proclivities just didn’t run that way and partly because we didn’t have the stuff. I’ve realized now that I’m beset by some insecurity in this department, too. I’m not sure how to do this thing and do it well.
Here’s your chance to give some advice. Below is a photo of the dishes we use when we have guests over, a pattern called (wait for it….) Blue & White.
Give me some ideas about what design and color elements I should be thinking about if I want to put placemats and napkins with those. Solid navy blue? Solid white? (That makes me shudder, honestly). Simple neutrals? Do I need a tablecloth? Table runner? Centerpiece? I’m putty in your hands.
I’ll probably set this blog table poorly in the morning.
A few years ago, my sister, the official Jam Queen, gave me the book that unlocks all the jam mysteries of the world. And jelly mysteries, too. After years of receiving her incredible jams as gifts for Christmas and birthdays, the secrets were being unveiled.
I eagerly read through the book, using little page markers to flag the jams I wanted to make, but had to abandon that fairly early on when I realized that I was flagging just about every page. A jam zeal had come over me. You think it wouldn’t happen to you, but I invite you to look through that book and see if you remain untouched.
Well, with great power comes great responsibility and I take these responsibilities seriously. I have been jamming.
Two Kinds of Apricots with Vanilla and Gerwurztraminer (I left little chunks of vanilla bean in the jam for fun)Rhubarb, Apples and Gerwurztraminer
As you can see, Gerwurztraminer played a big part in both of these. Wine is quite elevating in the jam world. Take an ordinary uninspiring jam and add wine and suddenly your jam is getting invited to posh social events.
Oooh! Ahhh!
Next I’m considering a Banana with Bittersweet Chocolate Jam. Would you eat it? I wonder if it would be good on vanilla ice cream. The jam zeal is still with me.
I’ll probably add wine to this post in the morning.
“Light is sown for the righteous, And gladness for the upright in heart.” Psalm 97:11
I read that recently and was struck by it. If light is a seed that is sown for us, what will be the plant? What will be the flower? What will be the fruit? I love the picture of God sowing seeds of light for us, especially knowing that ultimately the Lamb of God is our light, replacing the sun and the moon (Revelation 21:23). “In Him was life, and the life was the light of men.” (John 1:4).
And He also sows gladness for us. There will be a harvest of gladness, no matter how many trials afflict our gardens.
It also occurs to me what an interesting analogy this is. Seeds that are sown are buried first. Sown things must die in darkness in order to flourish and grow in the light. “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain. (John12:24.
Jesus is the light that was sown for us, who died in dark soil that we may enjoy the harvest of His everlasting light.
This bunny cup was given to me when I was born. At some point in my adult life, my mother gave it to me, and it has stayed in the shadows for all these years. Not in literal shadows, but the fact of its existence has never prompted any thought in my brain whatsoever. Clearly I’ve been packing it and moving it with us when we’ve moved, right? It’s been on a shelf collecting dust which I have not even bothered to clean.
Our daughter is expecting a baby, their first, and when I realized I’d be able to go to the baby shower, I was looking around for something old of mine to give her, in addition to other things. The bunny cup waved a metaphorical hand to get my attention and just like that, I saw it. How charming! I looked on the bottom of it and saw that it was signed “B ‘58.” No longer a random kitschy item, this had true provenance. I could tell by the signature that the bunny cup had been lovingly painted for me by one of my two aunts, both of whom had names beginning with the letter B. Which one? I couldn’t tell, but decided it had to have been the older “B,” since I knew she was the artsy type.
I cleaned it off and gift-wrapped it, preparing it for its new home out West. On the way out there, I got an unexpected email from one of my cousins, a son of the younger “B.” He attached several photos of his mother’s pottery, a topic we’d apparently touched on at some point and which I had forgotten. Lo and behold, there it was, her signature on the bottom of several pieces, the very same signature that was on the bunny cup. A small thing, but this was True Providence. Here was an item I hadn’t thought about or cared about for decades and almost the very minute I began wondering who made it for me, the answer came in an unprompted email. Some would see this as an unremarkable coincidence, but I see it as a kindness of the Lord’s, an attention to little details. What I put in the shadows, He brings to light.
I’ll probably delete this in the morning, if I can find it among the shadows.
Lynniebeemuseoday 