julia

It is becoming a theme that I haven't much time for reading, but it remains sadly true. The last time I curled up with a book was on the train home from my art retreat in New Hampshire-Sept. 22! But on that peaceful train ride I spent a few hours with Julia Child, reading her book My Life in France-a perfectly delightful read.

Here are some of the words and passages that brought me pleasure or recognition...

p. 24

"We sat outside, on wicker seats, munching our croissants and watching the morning sun illuminate the chimney pots."

p. 32

"Yet she glistened like an old hand-polished copper fire-hood. It gave me great pleasure to see someone as fully mature and mellow but also as lively and aglow as she was. Madam Perrier became the model for how I wanted to look in my dotage." (Me, too.)

p. 33

"...and stored them in an empty room upstairs that we named the oubliette (forgettery)."

p. 104

"frigorification" (referring to her very cold apartment during a Paris winter)


....and that is all for the moment. I still have more than half the book to read, but am plunged into the making of things for shows and for the imminent re-opening of my online shop, and immersing myself in a book hasn't been happening-but I am every hopeful!

"live in ink"

Posts have been scarce here, as scarce as the moments I have spent reading novels this past month.

Most all of my reading time has been spent with books of a practical nature as I research various interests and endeavors....and tho' much of it has been helpful, it has not been exactly beautiful or noteworthy.

But I came across this in an old Williamsburg engagement calendar. It comes from a poem anonymously contributed to the Virginia Gazette in the mid 1700's in praise of the editor of the paper who had opened a paper mill.

"The Substances of what we think,
Tho' born in Thought, must live in Ink."

This will be the "motto" of the planner I am designing....for I have learned too late that

"Whilst willing Mem'ry lends her Aid,
She finds herself by Time betray'd"

Let us remember to give our valuable thoughts a chance to "live in ink" or, atleast, the virtual
ink of blog and web.

peaceful heart

I have been amongst my books for the past few days, sorting and dusting and making piles. It is grubby work, and rather melancholy, as I decide what to keep and what to give up.

This afternoon I came across a lovely (inside and out!) Henry Van Dyke book (have you met him yet?) called The Friendly Year. It has an excerpt from his writings, one for each day of the year, and my edition is from 1912. For today:


July 26th

"Do you suppose that this wondrous stage of earth was set, and all the myriad actors on it taught to play their parts, without a spectator in view? Do you think that there is anything better for you and me to do, now and then, than to sit down quietly in a humble seat, and watch a few scenes of the drama? Has it not something to say to us, and do we not understand it best when we have a peaceful heart and free from dolor? That is what in-dolence means, and there are no better teachers of it than light-hearted birds and untoiling flowers, commended by the wisest of all masters to our consideration; nor can we find a more pleasant pedagogue to lead us to their school than a small, merry brook."

A timely reminder in the fast-slipping summer days and also the gift of a new word to roll around my mouth.....dolor (meaning a state of sorrow or distress). And to find that the meaning I knew for "indolence" is only a recent one (18th century : ), and that it previously meant simply the absence of "dolor". Something I will be seeking as I remember to more often be a spectator of this world...with a peaceful heart.

a trio

There has been little time for reading in the past month, tho' even as I typed those words I realized that is is not quite true (and what a dreadful reality it would be to truly have no time to read!).

My life has been so full and demanding that those hours without responsibilities were filled with sleep or movies. There was one book (chosen for its very undemanding-ness) which also meant there was nothing in it to share here.

But the past few nights, I have treated myself to a little bit of reading from the charming essays in Abbie Graham's _Vain Pomp and Glory_ 1927. Abbie Graham's books are some of my most favorite books in the world. Someday (in a project I am beginning work on) I will share her writings on a regular basis, but tonight I just want to jot down three lovely and satisfying words:


forsythia



sparrow



farthing



...I was still glowing from the beauty of "forsythia" on page 48 when I read "sparrow" on page 49 (a word that has always beguiled me), quickly followed on page 50 with "farthing" (quickly climbing the charts).

And on page 56, a whole passage I must copy out here:

"A home-going sense pervaded the dusk. All the traffic was homeward-bound, flashing red tail-lights of departure. I could but envy the automobiles as they went, for even the meanest of these sent forth a joyous signal that the day was ended and evening was at hand. Yet I stood in the greyness of the twilight a dull figure, hardly distinguishable from the drab pavement. Was there no way by which home-going pedestrians might grow luminous, haloed with joy, radiating the tidings that they, too, were going home, that in some small corner of the apartmented air candle-lighted dinner tables awaited them, and books, and good company? Must we leave this glowing expression to taxis, trucks and limousines?" -AG

Do you have your own trios to share, I hope?

ruth

I am reading A Son of Hagar by Hall Caine. I bought if for a dollar at our library, because I liked the cover, which is brownish and has an Arts and Craftsy look to it.
I began it about six weeks ago and found it very melodramatic-enough to make me roll my eyes at times. But it is set in Cumbria, so I have perservered with it.

Tonight I came across this line...


"Without pity, without remorse, with a will that was relentless and a heart that never knew ruth..."


Gosh! My whole life knowing the word "ruthless", but never stopping to think that if there is a ruthless, of course there must be a ruth (a feeling of pity, distress or grief). Wonderful.

Also this...


"He rolled over, face to the wall, and began to pay nasal tribute to sleep." : )


And this...


"Greta's heart beat high that night. Her spirit was full of a new alacrity. Every inch of the way, as they flew over the busy streets, seemed to awake in her soul some fresh sensibility."


I love the two words, but also that Mr. Caine has described a rare but glorious mood so evocatively.


Dawn is coming here, with the birds singing in the dark outside my door. I hope that I may soon find sleep, tho' without the 'nasal tribute'.

Good night!