Busy May

Friday night seemed like the lead-in to a relaxing weekend.  Notice I said "seemed".  We are getting new windows on our house on May 14 and 15, and so I had to trim back the Cape Honeysuckle and other bushes away from the windows in the back yard.  It looks bare - but they will grow back in time for October's Painted Buntings to find a place to hide again.

It's getting hot, too hot to work outside for hours at a time, but I managed to trim the bushes, rake the debris into a huge pile (for bagging later), mow the back yard (it hadn't been mowed yet this year and now the grass is getting high), and work inside the house.

That's another story.  About 2 months ago my husband and I went to Ikea and bought new bookcases for my room (real pine to replace pressboard ones), as well as a kitchen hutch.  All three of these had to be put together and the bookcases had to be spray painted with polyurethane.

This past weekend, I finally finished putting the kitchen hutch together, took out the old piece of furniture to be repurposed on the porch (took out the two old bookcases that were out there already and gave them away).

Also - my husband's coworker sold him a much bigger TV than the one we had for $150., which is a lot cheaper than a brand new one.  It's quite nice and my husband is happy, but we had to switch around the bookcases (full of books) and other furniture in the living room to fit the bigger TV into the room.  He did the heavy moving, and I did the re-decorating and replacing of items of decoration.

So - to recap - my husband and I, between us, yesterday and today, changed the living room furniture around, which entailed taking lots of books off bookshelves and putting them back, trimmed the bushes away from the windows in the back yard - and finished arranging the repurposed furniture on the screened in porch.

All this, plus laundry, vacuuming, straightening up and grocery shopping.  We got so much done, though, it is very satisfying.  

Yesterday morning, before we began all our tasks, hubby took a picture of my Squeebles, my Maine Coon kitty boy.  Here he is, ever mellow:

Wouldn't it be great if the kitties could help?  Unfortunately, they don't.  We've thought of putting little booties on their feet so they can dust the floor and furniture, but they are not orderly in their perambulating, so they would just spread everything around instead of capturing it in one place for pick up.

They sure are stress busters, though.  Especially my baby above.  He loves to be cuddled and he is an armful!!  He must weight more than 18 or 19 pounds.  He likes to sit in my lap facing outward, and I can then put my nose in his neck fur and sniff and give him rubbies with my nose. 

Now it's just about time to go to bed and tomorrow is Monday of another work week.  Hope everyone out there, whether they work in the home or outside the home, has a FABULOUS Monday.

Update From Florida

Well, Mr. Gray Catbird has moved on to his/her breeding grounds, and, withing a few days, so have the Painted Buntings.  I heard the Painteds singing 2 days ago, and then, they were gone - I know because I hear no song and they do not come to the feeders - all 4 of them have gone to their home breeding grounds.  

I'm not sad, although you'd think I would be.  Last week I found a stray cat in our back yard, having killed and eaten one of the racing lizards that lives there.  The cat finished all but the back torso, tail and hind leg because I scared him and used the hose to get him out of the yard.  I worried about my little bird "guests", but they have had the sense to move on.  Last year, they left during the first week of May, but this year, it is just a week earlier that they decided to "hit the road".  

I'm free now to trim bushes back, try to control the Morning Glory once more (it is an illusion - I never control the Morning Glory, but it lets me think so for brief periods of time).  We are having new windows put in our early 1970's Florida house, and I look forward to the energy savings they will bring.  With the advent of new windows comes the necessity to trim back the wildness of the bougainvillea and Cape Honeysuckle that grow right up to the house and would cover it, if allowed.  I will hack them all back, prune them if you will - like the grape vines in the Gospel of John.  But our rainy season is almost upon us and what I prune this coming week will be wild and crazy once more come October, when my "bed and breakfast for birds" opens up again for those who are migrating and seeking a place to stay. 

My husband and I had a scare last Thursday night.   He lets so much of the insanity of this world get to him, having been brought up by parents who could not, themselves, deal with the world at all.  He had a few minutes where he had difficulty talking, and, although he has had speech difficulties with certain words all his life, this was different.  Off to the emergency room we went.  He had several tests that came back fine.  He does not take care of himself physically as he should, thinking that he will last forever.  That will change now.  More fish and chicken and lots less "treats" and things we shouldn't eat are on the menu.  Low carb, no caffeine - that's the start.  We both need it.  Thank the Lord, all is well and all tests have come back normal.  He may have an MRI, the final test to rule out a mini stroke, next week, if his regular physician thinks it is necessary.  

One day at a time is all we ever receive, and if we think we get more, we are foolish.  Sufficient to the day is the evil - and the wonderfulness - thereof.  Just live today, plan for tomorrow if you must, but know that it is never guaranteed.  Knowing that my Lord is in charge is a great comfort, almost an adventure, to see what He will work out next. 

My Father's Favorite Music

I'm a lot like my father.  He had some favorite pieces of music that he would listen to as loud as he could, so as to be overwhelmed, buried in it.  You could see his emotions cross his face as he listened, the music making it almost as if he would burst with the beauty of it. 

His favorite pieces were "The Grand Canon Suite" and the theme from the movie, "Gettysburg".  For some reason - perhaps it is because both his maternal and paternal great grandfathers fought at Gettysburg in the 77th NY - my father was fascinated by the Civil War, and supremely, by the pivotal Battle of Gettysburg.  While I share his interest in the Civil War, my heroes are Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson, not because of their Southern stance or their legendary leadership, but because they were honorable Christian men who lived what they believed.

A few months ago, I bought my mother an inexpensive CD player so that she could bring music to my father in the "home".  Every day when she visits, if the weather is nice, she rolls his wheelchair outside into the tree shaded courtyard and they visit awhile and enjoy the breeze and the sound of the birds.  The first time I tried to bring him music was a while before that.  I drove up to visit them and my mother was to meet me at the home.  I got there first, went to see my father, had a nurse get him ready for going outside - and out we went.  I hadn't been alone with him in such a long, long time.  My mother is always there and while that is a good thing, this felt like a stolen minute when I could somehow try to connect with the man I used to know.  I had my iPhone with me and, as we sat in the courtyard, I told him I had something for him.  I began to play the Grand Canyon Suite, and he began to hum along, his deep, beautiful voice still there.  There's the part where the donkey is clopping down the trail in the canyon, from top to bottom.  The music is  onomatopoeic in the way a word sounds like what it describes.

This is part one.  The donkey part is part three.

Part two:


Part three - the donkey theme:

Part four:

Part five - the cloudburst, and then peace:

When I played part three for him - "On the Trail", that's when he hummed along.  He doesn't remember how old he is or what year it is, he's not sure what town he is in, or even where he is, but he remembered that music.  They say that music, even for Alzheimer's patients, (although my father has dementia, not alzheimers, for what it's worth) is remembered, including lyrics.  It is indeed soul therapy.  

When I first got to his room that day I asked him if he knew who I was, and he did.  He always melts when I ask him that and he smiles and says, "my daughter" in this goofy way that is so precious to me.  I have to fight back tears at that point, it is so beautiful.  I've always known that underneath the anger issues, he was the most darling man, and I see it now more than ever.  He is happy every day.  He jokes with the nurses, he smiles, he never complains.  I can still see the father I remember as a child who always had to stop and talk to people, chat with the gas station attendant or the grocery store clerk, share a joke or a funny line with an acquaintance he has bumped into. 

I think about who I am at the present time and who I have been for the past 20 years as a grownup.  We should all strive to keep the worries of this world from affecting our behavior, from making us angry or resentful because, in the end, none of it matters anyway.  We are left elemental.  Babies are elemental.  They soak up what is around them but they are worried about nothing.  If they begin to get uncomfortable, aka, hungry, wet, tired, sick - they cry and alert their caretakers that something is needed.  They aren't angry or resentful or jealous or sad - not yet, anyway.  Not at the very beginning.  And as we age, we go back to elementals.  My father is ok as long as he is comfortable - and he seems to be that almost all the time.  He even laughs at times.  

How hard it is for all of us to let go as time passes, but eternity promises that time will no longer hold sway over us.  It will always be "now" and we will never be ruled by a clock or a calendar again.  We will be able to spend eons with our loved ones in heaven if we wish, and none of the shadows of this life will interfere.  It will be elemental all the time.  The basics, with us being fully functional beings and nothing to react against or fear.  We won't have to be reduced to babyhood to live beautifully and happily without a blemish.  

Here is the theme from the movie, "Gettysburg" that so moved my father:

 

My Little Avian Friends

It's that time of year when the migrant birds that have graced my yard all winter fly back to their northern homes.  My favorite little buddies this year were my Gray Catbird:

He was far from the shy recluse that Gray Catbirds are supposed to be.  I should have taken more pictures, when my little red butted friend (look closely at the second picture and you'll see his rust colored under tail feathers) came out every afternoon around 4pm.  He may still be here - I'll look tomorrow.  I heard him singing his meowy cat song a few days ago. That usually means it's getting to be mating time and time to go back home to breeding grounds. I would be sitting in my lawn chair not 6 feet from his favorite "appearance" area - and there he'd be.  He would peek out and then hop out from the opening in the bougainvillea, look for any treats I might have left him there and then move on to find peanut butter.  I would leave him pieces of ripe passion fruit from my vine - he loved those!!  Who ever heard of a wild Gray Catbird eating peanut butter (don't worry - it is natural, not full of preservatives and chemicals)!!   In the last picture, Mr. Catbird is on the branches upon which I might spread a little peanut butter.  It was fun to watch him eat it and then go for some water. 

"Cheeky-Boy", the male Common Yellowthroat, left a few weeks ago, at the end of March.  He was my favorite, flitting among the bushes directly around the screened in porch starting before the sun came up.  His little masked face was so sweet and you can tell I miss him and hope he comes back in the fall.

In the pictures above my little Cheeky Boy is eating the same thing the Gray Catbird unexpectedly liked - peanut butter.  How funny is that?  Common Yellowthroats are seen in the Everglades all year round.  In the wild they live in the marshy areas and cruise along the ground for goodies.  I think they eat bugs like most warblers.  Poor Cheeky Boy won't find much peanut butter in the wild, but that's probably a good thing, really.  I don't know where his nick name came from but one day as I was watching him gad about my yard, in and out, not shy in the least, I thought he was delightfully "cheeky" or fresh, like a little flirt - so I guess that's why I called him that.

I need to give Mr. Catbird a name, but none came to me.  I haven't named the Painted Buntings either - it doesn't seem proper, not in the same way as the little masked warbler.

I feel as if these little birds that God sends me every year are His gift to me; and I make sure I take good care of them in return.  I keep the feeders full for those who eat seed and provide caged feeders for the smaller birds who are frightened of the parrots and grackles and jays we have, not to mention the squirrels that hang upside down next to a feeder and grab it periodically to get some more food.  I love them all, mammal and bird.  There are places for them to hide in the brush and a pool of water with a filter that keeps it moving.  There is a birdbath in which the water is changed daily.  In the rainy season, all this slows down.  No need to worry about filling pools of water or birdbaths in the summer - the rain does that every day.  In the summer we concentrate on butterflies and dragonflies in the garden and the only bird feeding we do is peanuts for the Bluejays and squirrels in the morning and evening.

These little avian visitors are my companions as I sit outside and watch them come for breakfast in the morning.  Sometimes they perch on a branch and wait for me to finish filling feeders or filling the birdbath;  then as soon as I sit down, they come and eat or drink.  I can't tell you the intense soul pleasure these little creatures bring me.  My backyard is truly my little pocket Eden - in all seasons.

This year we've had one fully colored male Painted Bunting and 4 "Greenies", which could be females or immature males.   They are also still here.  Last year they left during the first week of May and I heard the male sing maybe 2 days in a row before they left.  This year the male buntings (which I now know includes one of the greenies because I saw him singing and only males sing) began singing over a week ago and have not left yet.  They sing in my bougainvillea bush so sweetly.  I'll have to keep an eye out now because every day they may be gone - for all I know they have gone today while I was at work.  I'll clean their feeders and make sure we are ready for all of them to come back in the fall.

It's Thursday night and I'm not sleepy, although I'll pay the price tomorrow morning.  It's 12:20pm and after I write this post I'm hieing to bed ( you know - like "hie thee to a nunnery")

I love music.  All kinds of music.  Tonight - the most powerful pieces of music that "called" to me were Richard Strauss's "Four Last Songs" written shortly before his death, and they are very lovely, even though they are about death.  The words are not rebellious, "fighting against the dying of the light",  but embracing, beautiful, peaceful.  However, Richard Strauss's words don't necessarily bring me closer to God.  

Next is Leonard Bernstein.  What a genius he was!  And handsome?  When he was a young man, he was leonine looking, striking, charismatic.  Here are my two favorite pieces by him.  They are both part of larger productions, but I can't pull myself away from just them to listen to the entirety of either.
"Make Our Garden Grow" from Candide:

The male singer is Jerry Hadley who, it appears, killed himself in 2007.  His wife left him and he seems to have never gotten over it.  What a tragedy!  The voice of the female singer is rich and full, beautiful.  The music is - I cannot think of any more appropriate word - orgasmic.  It is like standing at the edge of heaven, ready to enter in.  I love the cutaways in the video to Leonard Bernstein - he is so emotional that he puts his hands over his face several times. This video happens to be the performance to honor Bernstein's 70th birthday.

I imagine what Bernstein was feeling when he wrote this.  He lived through the Holocaust, although he lived in the US, so he did not directly experience it.  However, the sheer horror of what occurred to Jews in Europe must have influenced him.  This particular song reminds me of the Jews that survived WWII.  They went to Israel, those that could, and they could have sung this song while they built up the land:  

"CANDIDE
You've been a fool
And so have I,
But come and be my wife.
And let us try,
Before we die,
To make some sense of life.
We're neither pure, nor wise, nor good
We'll do the best we know.
We'll build our house and chop our wood
And make our garden grow...
And make our garden grow.

CUNEGONDE
I thought the world
Was sugar cake
For so our master said.
But, now I'll teach
My hands to bake
Our loaf of daily bread.

CANDIDE AND CUNEGONDE
We're neither pure, nor wise, nor good
We'll do the best we know.
We'll build our house and chop our wood
And make our garden grow...
And make our garden grow.

(ensemble enters in gardening gear and a cow walks on)

CANDIDE, CUNEGONDE, MAXIMILLIAN, PAQUETTE, OLD LADY, DR. PANGLOSS
Let dreamers dream
What worlds they please
Those Edens can't be found.
The sweetest flowers,
The fairest trees
Are grown in solid ground.

ENSEMBLE (a cappella)
We're neither pure, nor wise, nor good
We'll do the best we know.
We'll build our house and chop our wood
And make our garden grow.
And make our garden grow!"

The words above are written by someone, by people, who have lost God, who believe that they must do the best they can and then die.  Granted, there is no Eden on earth now, and we are neither pure nor wise nor good - that is all true - but to make sense of life, we need the Lord Jesus Christ.  In any case, the music is so beautiful it hurts.

Next is Bernstein's "Mass" - the "Simple Song" from the Mass to be specific:

Now we're talking.  I could be easily convinced that David, from beyond the grave, inspired Bernstein to write the music and the lyrics just as he did.  Perhaps the guitar isn't the instrument that David would have used in ancient Israel, but the music, the lyrics, the beauty of the singer, his youth and vigor are David as I might imagine him.  The lyrics are beautiful, I believe taken in part from an Old Testament Psalm.  

"Sing God a simple song, lauda laude
Make it up as you go along, lauda laude
Sing like you like to sing, God loves all simple things.
For God is the simplest of all, For God is the simplest of all.

I will sing the Lord a new song, to praise him, to bless him, to bless the Lord.
I will sing his praises while I live, all of my days.

Blessed is the man who loves the Lord,
Blessed is the man who praises him.
Lauda, lauda, laude, and walks in his ways.

I will lift up my eyes, to the hills from which comes my help.
I will lift up my voice to the Lord, singing lauda, laude.

For the Lord is my shade, is the shade upon my right hand.
And the sun shall not smite me by day, or the moon by night.

Blessed is the man who loves the Lord lauda, lauda, laude,
and walks in his ways.

Lauda, lauda, laude, lauda, lauda di da di day
All of my days………"

How true these lyrics are - "blessed is the man who loves the Lord and walks in His ways" - so true.  I first heard of Bernstein's "Mass" when I was in my late teens.  My sister introduced me to this particular song and I've loved it ever since.  It doesn't seem so many years ago that I would wait until my parents weren't home, put my album of the "Mass" on our record player at home and sing along at the top of my lungs to the "Simple Song".  Although these days I don't sing at the top of my lungs, I still manage to sing along.....

"For the Lord is my shade..." - that part of the song is my favorite.  He is our protection and our hedge.  He takes care of His children.  I don't know whether Bernstein ever believed in Jesus Christ, but I sure hope so.  His music, along with, of course, West Side Story, lives on and comforts and inspires me.

And now - to bed.

So Much To Learn, So Little Time

No Ashley, I'm just fine - the title doesn't mean anything. 

Now that I've gotten THAT out of the way, what am I up to lately?  Remember the sweater I was making?  Still stuck at about 14" - need to work on that.

Remember how I was making my husband's lunch every day?  I've flagged a bit, but I'm still doing it, although I'm very undisciplined at continuity and follow through.  I can come up with great plans, I can save my own life - but sticking to those plans is tedious after a while and that's where being a grownup comes in (something I've never really mastered well).

For instance - I planted a veggie garden this past October.  I even made a map of what I planted, but I didn't plan on it serving the purpose of pointing out to me the several items that didn't grow at all.  The seeds never sprouted.  In fact, the only thing that grew - for a little while - was string beans.  I was able to harvest a few bowlfuls of them and then the whole plant withered and died.  The peas came up, made a few flowers and then disappeared.  The little plants turned yellow and then brown and then went belly up, as the saying goes.  The corn?  It was coming along - I could even see little tiny baby corns (so cute!!), but the night critters ate them all up and all I found in the morning was corn debris.  Period.  Carrots?  They've grown and prospered.  My husband even had some tucked into his lunch one day - little baby carrots home grown.  Onions?  Never showed up.  Tomatoes?  Two kinds?  Never even saw the light of day.  Seeds just sat there and gave up the ghost.

I'm not sure what happened.  Perhaps I should have sprouted everything on the porch and THEN replanted it in the raised beds.  Perhaps I should have built some sort of chicken wire cover over the beds so that birds and critters couldn't trample everything, but then how would I have gotten in myself to pick things, weed, etc.? 

I'd love to have 2 chickens to lay eggs, but I know they'd get sick and I would freak because I can't stand animals to be in pain and I can't help them.  Or worse - they'd get eaten by something and I'd find the feathers.  We do have a hawk that eats pidgeons, doves and the other day even a grackle (I can tell by the feathers left behind).

As far as my Downton Abbey fixation, I'm still reading books about the Edwardian English aristocracy, Americans marrying into the Edwardian English aristocracy and the downfall of the English aristocracy.  These people had lots of money, but the social rules they had to follow took all the fun out of it, in my mind.  I don't envy them.

I'm forever trying to master photography.  I can take nice pictures because I have a great camera and a decent eye for composition.  Plus flowers are easy subjects.  But what I'm trying to understand is the manual basics of the Exposure Triangle.  I bought a Photography textbook and it has helped a great deal.  Now all I have to do is keep my camera settings on "Manual" so I learn by practice.  Next up - Photoshop layers.  I have never understood layers and it is an intrinsic part of Photoshop and Photoshop Elements.  You can do great things, but you have to understand layers, so I have a book just about layers in photo software.  I have so many books to read I need to stop sleeping and stay up nights so I can catch up - at least I feel sometimes like sleeping is a WASTE!

Oh - and Bible study?  The most important part of my life?  My faith?  I still have not even begun to get up early every day and open the Bible.  I have software.  I have numerous Bible related books, concordances and commentaries.  I get up early.  I sit in my chair.  Neko jumps in my lap and wants to be petted.  Next is Squeebles.  He looks up at me from the floor and reaches up a paw to tap my arm - "Mommy, can I come up now?"  And up he jumps to make biscuits on my belly and then I roll him over for some belly rubs.  In between, my eyes inadvertently close and I dose off for a few minutes, open my eyes and check the time on my computer screen.  I have....a half hour, then 15 minutes, then 5, then I stand up, stretch and get ready for the day.  Today I actually opened the Bible and read a few Psalms, which is the only part of the Bible other than Proverbs that I can actually comprehend at 5:30AM.  And so, at 56 years of age, I continue the attempt to have a morning Bible study each day......sigh.

A Very Carson Christmas

I have found the absolutely funniest video I've seen yet from the characters in Downton Abbey.  I watched the final episode of Season 2 - the Christmas episode - this morning (I forgot last night).  Afterwards I always have a slight Downton Abbey/Highclere Castle withdrawal, so I looked up the actual actresses, especially Lady Mary, online.  Michelle Dockery plays Lady Mary.  In any case, I came across a British sort of "Tonight Show" called The Jonathan Ross Show, on which all three beautiful actresses appeared just before Christmas 2011.  My gosh, they are breathtakingly beautiful girls, and there is such a delicate, feminine air about them as if they've absorbed some of the ladylike behavior from being in Downton Abbey.

Here is the video - it is priceless:

Did you like that?  I laughed out loud - he is SO good at playing Carson.  

In my usual fashion, I've done some investigation into the REAL Downton Abbey.  As many people know, the home/estate/castle that appears as Downton Abbey is, in reality, Highclere Castle.  It was built or totally revamped in 1842 by the, I think 3rd Earl of Carnarvon.  The story of Downton Abbey is really not the story of the real 5th Earl of Carnarvon and his wife, Almina Wombwell.  Downton Abbey is a compilation of various stories of many English aristocratic families of that time - true stories, but not of the Carnarvons.  For instance, the story of a visiting guest found dead in his bed by his valet in the morning - true.  According to the writer of Downton Abbey, Julian Fellowes, this episode comes from something a friend of his discovered while reading his great-aunt's diary from the approximate Edwardian time period.  Julian Fellowes wrote it into Downton Abbey.  Matthew is also a character drawn from reality.  Mr. Fellowes knew or heard of someone in the past who was living a completely different life, who found that he had inherited a title and property as a distant heir.

The web site I linked to for Highclere Castle is not the home page, but I think it is the most interesting because there are actually houses to let on the estate.  There is picture of one, now rented, and it's inside rooms.  Sigh.  Just imagine.  Living in a house on Highclere Castle estate.  That would be heaven on earth for someone like me who loves the outdoors and the countryside - and history.

I think what I love most about the series is the way in which people speak to one another.  People manage to get across their meaning very well indeed without cursing or yelling or behaving in a crass manner.  I've said all this before, so I won't repeat.

The real story of the Carnarvon's is actually more exciting in some ways.  Lord Carnarvon, the 5th Earl of Carnarvon, was the man who, with Howard Carter, discovered the tomb of King Tutankhamun in 1922.  Before WWI, it was common for English aristocrats with money to finance their own private digs in Egypt or in other places.  Almina Wombwell, the 5th Earl's wife, was actually the illegitimate daughter of Albert Rothschild and Marie Wombwell.  She was charming, spoiled and was showered with wealth from her father, who called himself her "Godfather".  Her mother, Marie had been married to a good for nothing from good family and she took up with Rothschild and was his mistress for 40 years until he died.  The Carnarvons had money, but when the 5th Earl inherited, he spent like crazy and went through his inheritance in 3 years.  Marrying Almina saved his Highclere Castle as well as all his other properties, and saved his way of life.  She was the woman who turned Highclere Castle into a hospital complete with X Ray machines and operating theaters during World War I.  She threw a great deal of money into nursing injured soldiers and she was quite a remarkable woman.

I've moved on to reading "The Buccaneers", by Edith Wharton, which is a story about a few of the American monied debutantes who went to England and married into the titled, but financially strapped families there.  I'm not crazy about the characters - I like characters with integrity and there isn't much to be found.  Edith Wharton covered the all too human foibles very well, however - and her portrayal of the English aristocracy is unflattering.  Mr. Fellowes mentions "The Buccaneers" in one of his interviews about Downton Abbey, so I decided to read it.

Anyway - that's the latest from this neck of the woods.