The baby quails
nesting in the lopsided bush beside our porch—(though a tragedy with a swift
and silent hawk the same day as the death of the priest in Rouen has left me
fearing for them more than I can delight in their baby bounce now. My innocent enjoyment is gone, or severely
rattled, my love much cordoned-about with cautions against losing more of me.)
Good music—
. Beethoven's 9th, his
life-affirming symphony with choir, horns, and trumpets. "Every creature drinks in
joy"—music to take to heart.
. Mozart's Cosi fan Tutte, joyful in quite a
different key, and equally restorative.
. Somebody singing
in the back garden, this last day of the month.
An off-key hymn maybe, the Baba Yetu we heard one workday on campus, the
Lord’s prayer sung in Swahili,
or ad lib plainchant, or some kind of spiritual or working song, from a culture I'm not even
aware of, giving thanks another way. A
second voice picking up from the first.
A man and wife, celebrating Sunday.
(Saturday is usually tennis lessons with the children on the red clay
court. Or actually a green court which I
have transformed into red clay, because I liked the one in Aosta so much, and
the one I used to play on with my friend Rachel back home in Santa Fe, at the
convent across the road from school, the net torn and swayed, no one ever
around.)
Good books, even
without a striped hammock or Nantucket porch swing to read them in—
. The High Mountains of Portugal, by Yann Martel. Quite fascinating. (And never mind that Portugal has no high
mountains: that's one of the fascinating
things.)
. A Small Death in the Great Glen, by A.D. Scott. Compelling, a good summer read. The first book in a series of mysteries set
in the Highlands, which sat on my shelf for years untouched and I was pleased
to find.
. After the Fall, by Victoria Roberts. Funny.
Very New York, like Eloise, beginning
with a most precocious Olmec head.
Flowers—
. tea with blue cornflowers
(the Darjeeling with strawberries as well)
. another tea, a
gift from Mendocino, with flowers too, hibiscus, and the spice of cinnamon, the
leisurely presence of elderberry
. the edible
flowers I found to decorate a double-chocolate clementine cake for last night's
dinner with friends around an outdoor table
This blessing, for
the coming month, from John O'Donohue—
May you awaken to the mystery of
being here
And enter the quiet immensity of
your own presence.
May you have joy and peace in the
temple of your senses.
May you receive great
encouragement when new frontiers beckon.
May you respond to the call of
your gift and find the courage to follow its path.
May the flame of anger free you
from falsity.
May warmth of heart keep your
presence aflame and
Anxiety never linger about you.
May your outer dignity mirror an
inner dignity of soul.
May you take time to celebrate
the quiet miracles that seek no attention.
May you be consoled in the secret
symmetry of your soul.
May you experience each day as a
sacred gift
Woven around the heart of wonder.
images: Christie B. Cochrell, Bowl with Tea
Cake
with Edible Flowers, MyLife Living Assistance
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