At The Seaside, Normandy

Sunday 24 June: Birth of John The Baptist

From Sacred Space;

"In the Northern hemisphere this week includes the longest day of the year, a time to look backwards and forwards, a central date. On such a day, "halfway through life's journey", Dante started his 'Divina Commedia' with the words, "Nel mezzo del camin di nostra vita." ("How do I see my life, moving steadily upwards?") The Church placed the birth of John the Baptist at mid-summer, when the days start to shorten, remembering his prayer: Jesus must increase and I must decrease. We see women and men who, while their senses grow blunter and their body slower, are steadily shedding their ego, growing in an openness to God, becoming more and more transparently a vessel of love."

Normandy: The Third Door Is The Door To The Dairy

"The third door is the door of the dairy.

Peace; silence; endless dripping of the wicker trays where the cheeses are set to shrink; curds, heaped and pressed in metal mould; on hot July days, the smell of curdled milk seemed cooler and sicklier - no, not sicklier, but mildly sour, so washed out that it could only be smelt at the very back of one's nose, where it was already more of a taste than a smell.

Churn, scoured to the utmost cleanliness. Little pots of butter lying on cabbage leaves. Red-handed dairy maid. Windows, always kept open, but stretched with wire gauze to keep out cats and flies.

The pans are ranged in rows, full with milk which gradually turns yellow until all the cream has risen. The cream rises to the surface slowly; it puffs and wrinkles and separates from the whey. When the whey has lost all its richness, it is time to skim."

André Gide: Fruits of the Earth

trans. Dorothy Bussy, Secker 1949

from "The Cooking of Normandy" Jane Grigson.

This Has Got To Stop

http://www.thepioneerwoman.com/confessions_of_a_pioneer_/2007/05/post_1.html

I Want To Be A Cowboy, Again

The first marriage proposal I received was delivered something like this;

"I'm thinking of buying a new place, saw it last week. There's a bigger stable yard so we could keep a couple of ponies for the children, as well as a couple of nags to keep us jumping. A pigeon pair would do me, but I know you've mentioned at least four so we could get in a couple more horses as they outgrow the ponies.."

"I'm sorry, what are you talking about," was my less than attentive reply.

"I'm asking you to marry me."

I haven't thought about it for nearly twenty-five years, until I clicked on a link from she who influences' blog, and surfed on into a blog called Confessions of a Pioneer Woman. In today's post Pioneer Woman describes a friend with time on her hands, Hyacinth. If you can't be bothered to click on the link, here are two sentences:

"You may not know this, but Hyacinth is also a radio host and has two successful shows in our area. And she's always so blissfully happy to be at the radio station rather than at home folding laundry and wiping her children's body parts, she'll often call me after her regular shows are in the can and kill time by conducting fake interviews with me."

It was the bit about ringing up and conducting fake interviews that had me shout out with laughter. I have a best friend who's like this. I scrolled down and her post for June 19 wiped the smile off my face. Beautiful, beautiful horses. Little girls with perfect, perfect shoulder/hip/ankle alignment, and outrageously rugged cowboys photographed doing outrageously rugged cowboy things. But the photos of the horses really take my breath away. I shall give up gardening and take up cowboying. Actually I think it's called wrangling. At least I have the right jeans, so that's a start.

Midsummer

First, choose a night that keeps the heat of day.
Next, order cool breezes from willow trees
soaked overnight in dark mysteries. Then,
remove bath from bathroom and place amidst
a filigree of ferns in folds of lime trees.
Now, frost rim of bath with silver moonlight,
line base with lemon verbena leaves and
place wild honeysuckle on taps. Slowly,
fill to brim with infusion of rosemary.
Order peacocks to open a jewelled screen.
When all is secret and silent remove clothes;
consume fig and elderflower salad.
Roll in rose petals, place parsley in ears
submerge body in water, dissolve all fears.

Rebecca Farmer
Recipe For A Summer Bath
Good Housekeeping Magazine
February 1994

Midsummer's Eve: Love Looks Not With The Eyes, But With The Mind

It's 23.35hrs on the day before the Longest Day, Midsummer. I'm just checking the Greenwich Mean Time website for the time for sunrise tomorrow. I shall sleep tonight with roses under my pillow, (actually Ispahan, Eglantyne and Sceptr'ed Isle), and set the alarm for dawn. Actually it's now 00.04hrs, on the Longest Day, as I've just received an interesting email and been reading it with growing awe. Some people are just very good at what they do, even if they are the subject of very rude jokes about double blind studies...

http://www.william-shakespeare.info/quotes-quotations-play-midsummer-nights-dream.htm

When Saying Thank You is More Than Enough

The house is full once more. Beloved firstborn is home for the summer*, merci beaucoup enfant deux finished her exams and is back at school after exam leave, and I finished all the laundry and stacked away all the uni-rooms-supplies-and-goods that were dispatched with beloved firstborn in October, but must now be assimilated into the family home. Merci beaucoup enfant deux has few needs, just a really profane credit rating on her moby and a fleet of servants to pick up everything that drops from her hands (and therefore her consciousness), on a daily basis. Ahh the joys of a house full with beloved teenagers.

Once more the house resounds with planet rock, shouts and laughter. The house phone doesn't stop ringing, and suddenly I'm the resident telephonist aurally re-acquainted with all the big tall lads who went through school with beloved firstborn. I can't wait for the first weekend house party of all his mates. I'm preparing the fatted calf for slaughter... that should take care of breakfast, then. Of course merci beacoup enfant deux plans her social events diary with military precision worthy of a Stalingrad sniper; carefully guarding admission to the family home to selected chums who have earned access to her adored brother.

And I remember the halls' caretaker to whom I returned his uni keys at the weekend; beloved firstborn far too busy working to do this himself. I thanked the man, and said how this handover marked the end of my only son's first year at uni. "Has he enjoyed his year?" he asked. "Oh yes," I replied, "He's grown up and had a wonderful year. And thank you for keeping an eye on him." And those few simple words held the gratitude of a mother. The world is surely populated by good and wonderful people taking care of others to whom they owe no genetic debt.

* Note how already I have accepted that the "family home" is merely the temporary stop-gap-palace-of-luxury between his "own" home at uni... I'm rather pleased I've successfully negotiated this HUGE transition.

Friday Five: Freedoms

The freedom to see and hear what is here, instead of what should be, or was, or will be.

The freedom to say what I feel and think, instead of what I should.

The freedom to feel what I feel, instead of what I ought.

The freedom to ask for what I want, instead of always waiting for permission.

The freedom to take risks on my own behalf, instead of choosing to be only 'secure' and not rocking the boat.

Virginia Satir

http://explorefaith.org/prayer/fixed/hours.php

Lea Gardens, Derbyshire, 1 June 2007

The End Of Exams

The exams are over.

The exams are over. How good that feels to write. For beloved firstborn, his last exam marked the close of a successful first year at uni; for merci beaucoup enfant deux, her last exam on Thursday marked the midpoint in her sixth form studies, and almost the end of her Lower Sixth year - she returns with her fellow students for the remainder of the school curriculum in July. They are worked liked slaves at this school, thank goodness.

The exams are over. I can relax, exhale and slump into a worn-out heap of maternal concern; no longer setting both alarm clock and mobile in case one or other fails; booking time to drive her up to school just in case the school bus fails to turn up, or breaks down en route; enforcing sustained revision and early nights; reducing the house to a state of calm and quiet, ordered efficiency; ensuring a well stocked fridge and absolutely no charred pizzas....

And are beloved firstborn and merci beaucoup enfant deux celebrating at home with their mum? Nah, they're at Donnington for the Download weekend with hordes of their friends.

I have the house and garden all to myself, and with the added bonus of absolutely no blasted taxi duties. Heavenly. And this afternoon I finally tied in the very old vine onto wires across the south-facing wall, bought and sunk some oxygenating plants into the pond, bought a fat luscious sirloin that even as we speak is marinating in the larder in olive oil and garlic and garden herbs, made a granary loaf for breakfast toast and honey tomorrow, cut and arranged some beautiful Constance Spry roses for the bedroom, and finally showered and changed into my favourite skirt, and opened a bottle of heavenly white, before sitting down here to write and celebrate a wonderful life. And no exam stress, vicariously

oops too late, Gardener's World is just starting..........

Friday Five: In These Arms Tonight

Friday Five: Horticultural Terms

1. Canker
2. Necrotic spot virus
3. Interveinal chlorosis
4. Molybdenum
5. Thrips

I love the sound of these words, especially "canker." Here is something else to enjoy on the first day of summer.