For the state of virtue is the restitution of the soul's powers to their former nobility and the convergence of the principal virtues in an activity that accords with nature.
Nikitas Stithatos.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Guacamole Salad
Ingredients:
3 medium avocados, peeled and seeded 1 small onion (red, yellow, or white—may use spring onions or shallots) 1 ½ tspn soy sauce or similar flavoring 2 or 3 tblspns balsamic vinegar freshly ground pepper, black or white (to taste) lime juice from ½ lime
ripe tomatoes, sliced or diced fresh alfalfa sprouts
Method:
Put first six ingredients in a blender or VitaMix and puree to desired smoothness. (You may want to leave it somewhat chunky, or completely smooth.) Place tomato on a plate and arrange alfalfa sprouts on top of tomatoes. Drop a large dollop or two of the avocado mixture on top of the sprouts.
Makes a nice complement to grilled shrimp, fish, or chicken. It's nice all by itself with fresh, crusty bread, too, for a very light lunch.
When the outside temperatures get below 50 degrees F, my husband brings his citrus trees into the basement and places them under some full-spectrum lights in front of a sunny window to live all winter. This little lizard came in with the trees this year. He's the cutest thing. I disturbed his sleep to take this photo. I had hoped to catch him sleeping, but he opened his little eyes just the merest bit to see what was going on. He lives in the trees down there, and catches who knows what. Spiders and flies, I guess. He seems happy, and my husband, softie that he is, calls him "my lizard." Awww. I've become rather attached to the little thing, myself.
I have a very dear friend who has an urgent need right now. Her name is Elizabeth Riggs, and she has suffered decades of constant pain from Rheumatoid Arthritis and Fibromalgia. She currently is disabled to the point that even standing is difficult. Recently she acquired an assistant dog, Emmy, from PAALS on the condition that she raise $7,000, which amounts to about one third of Emmy's training, vet care, and upkeep. Emmy came home with Elizabeth this past September, after an intensive two-week training for both Elizabeth and Emmy--at further cost to Elizabeth. Now that Emmy is home with Elizabeth, she helps by picking up Elizabeth's cane, keys, cell phone when she drops them. Emmy helps steady Elizabeth when she gets out of bed or up from a chair. Emmy helps by pulling the laundry basket for Elizabeth, taking clothes out of the dryer, and by turning on lights when they go into a room. Before Emmy came, Elizabeth couldn't even walk down her driveway to get the mail; now she can do that! Recently Emmy literally saved Elizabeth's life by steadying her when Elizabeth suffered an episode of vertigo at the top of a long flight of stairs! Emmy is also learning how to call 911 on a special phone in case of that need. I cannot stress strongly enough that Elizabeth needs Emmy in her life--for her physical well-being and safety, and for her spirit. You can read all about this on Elizabeth "Living With the Woof" blog. If Elizabeth is not able to come up with her full $7,000 obligation to PAALS by the end of January, 2009, she will lose Emmy. Emmy will have to go to another person. This will be devastating to Elizabeth on so many levels, and Emmy will also be traumatized because Emmy and Elizabeth have bonded with each other and have become a true team. I know times are tough for everyone these days, and especially in this economy. However, if you can at all, please, please consider making a donation in Elizabeth's name to PAALS. You can donate from the website, and please make sure that you note on your donation that it is "for Elizabeth Windy Riggs' dog Emmy."
Elizabeth has been and is such a help to everyone who knows her. She has been a particular help to me over the past couple of years when I was going through a most difficult time, and she helps everyone she meets without discrimination, and she helps when she needs help herself. She encourages and supports daily when she herself could use the same encouragement and support. She constantly gives of herself to so many people. Now it's time for us, her friends the recipients of her love and support, to do what we can to help her. Please send a donation of whatever you can in her name.
Today is my 60th birthday, and already some friends are commenting on all that "wisdom" I've gained over the years. Of course, these friends are as much as 15 - 20 years younger than I am. Well, I surely don't feel like I've gained any wisdom--a lot of experience, yes, but wisdom? I'm not so sure. The only things I can say are:
1. If you have to ask yourself if what you are about to do is right, then it's not. 2. If you wonder if someone will be hurt by something you're about to say, don't say it. 3. People don't want to hear about your problems; they want to tell you theirs. Try to listen--with empathy even if it kills you, then go find your friend who's your own age and let'er rip. 4. Keep your advice to yourself. People won't believe you, and they're going to do what they want anyway. You did the same thing at their age. Be there to pick up the pieces without saying, "I told you so." 5. Try to find a friend or two who is your age or even a few years older so you can have a real conversation. 6. Don't wear large flower print dresses. For that matter, don't wear small flower print dresses. Dress all in one color, or at least at the same end of the spectrum! (Unless you're going to a Red Hat event.) 7. Wear sensible shoes and to yeck with the "fashion conscious" snobs. They don't have to worry about broken bones--yet. 8. Take long, slow walks in the sunshine and wind and be happy that you don't have to worry about a toddler running off from you. 9. Listen to music from the 1940's, 50's, and maybe some from the 60's if you want. If people leave the room in disgust, you can turn up the volume and actually hear it. 10. When someone complains, always start your response with, "In MY day....." ;)
That's about it, folks. Maybe I'll think of more stuff later, but I wouldn't bet the grocery money on it.
Last night the moon's orbit came to its closest point to the earth in fifteen years. This, according to this article, is called its perigee. Since the moon was full last night, it made it look something like 14% larger than usual, as well as brighter. I suppose this event holds many allures for the scientist and astronomer; but, being neither, I just think looking at a full moon when it looks even fuller than usual is a beautiful event. Actually, I had no idea this was happening until my husband called while he was driving from one office to another (yes, after dark--he works long hours) and told me to look outside. The moon was hanging very low in the sky and shining for all it was worth. I grabbed my camera hoping that I could capture something to show this once in over a decade happening. It was still just light enough to be able to see trees as trees and not as black silhouettes (although they came out that way in the picture). I'm quite happy with my picture even though it doesn't do justice to the size of the moon I saw. I stood out there as long as I could stand the cold and just looked at it. I'm glad my husband called me. He knows I love beauty and nature.
Last night the thunder crashed, the lightning flashed, the wind roared, and the weather radio pierced our sleep every 20 minutes or so with another severe weather warning. There were even a couple of tornado warnings in our county. For three hours this went on disturbing our much needed rest. This morning we found the earth swimming. Water is everywhere, even in the chickens' feeding station, which is covered and stays dry during most storms, and the piney forest is in tatters from the wind and rain. The woods has been quiet out here for the past several days--quieter than usual with a brooding silence that got on my nerves, but was a welcome relief to my dear husband, whose ears are daily assaulted with the incessant noise pollution of the city. This morning the quiet feels like the relief after an exhausting struggle. Not a breeze blows the dripping and tattered leaves left dangling on the trees. It's warm out, warm enough to bring out the critters and creepy crawlies that will keep my chickens happily scratching all day. But this will soon change to freezing temperatures and bring "snow flurries" after midnight tonight and possibly tomorrow, too. I expect to see a flake or two floating in the air. The water in the ground and on the streets will freeze early tomorrow morning and tomorrow night, and "winter" will be back again. We'll have a cozy fire in our heating stove, and snuggle and bask in its warmth. Such is "winter" down here in the deep South--never really winter for long, because Spring can never wait her turn, but comes in snatches, loosening winter's icy grip and stealing the earth's rest as the storm steals ours.
My husband recently bought an infrared "gamecam" that we can strap to a tree or post, program it, and let it capture photos of whatever moves in front of it until we turn it off. It's turning out to be my new toy, and I'm having a ball with it! So far we've captured photos of our cats, raccoons, and possums. At left is one of a raccoon crossing our yard. Usually the critter that trips the shutter is moving so fast that only a part of it shows in the photo. I think there must be a couple of seconds lag tme before the photo is taken. It certainly makes life interesting!
I've been thinking a lot about praying lately. I make a distinction between praying and prayer; which other, more intelligent and experienced people than I have written about. I've specifically been thinking about how hard it is to begin to pray, i.e. get up off my, umm, couch and pray, as opposed to how easy and comforting praying is once I'm actually praying. In a nutshell, the problem lies in my own self-indulgence. Now, if I could only re-assign those self-indulgent feelings to praying, perhaps I wouldn't be thinking so much about it. The quote below says it better than I can.
Amma Theodora said, "It is good to live in peace, for the wise man practices perpetual prayer. It is truly a great thing for a virgin or a monk to live in peace, especially the younger ones. However, you should realize that as soon as you intend to live in peace, at once evil comes and weighs down your soul through accidie (listlessness/ boredom/despondency), faintheartedness, and evil thoughts. It also attacks your body through sickness, debility, weakening of the knees, and all the members. It dissipates the strength of soul and body, so that one believes one is ill and no longer able to pray. But if we are vigilant, all these temptations fall away. There was, in fact, a monk who was seized by cold and fever every time he began to pray, and he suffered from headaches too. In this condition, he said to himself, "I am ill, and near to death; so now I will get up before I die and pray." By reasoning in this way, he forced himself and prayed. When he had finished, the fever abated also. So, by reasoning in this way, the brother resisted and prayed, and was able to conquer his thoughts.
Non displaced fracture Hairline crack and much soft tissue swelling Location: Radial Head, left elbow Blood in soft tissue, radial head fracture
continue with current OCL cast come back in 1 week & possibly get removable splint then begin gentle stretching to facilitate full flexibility may lose 10% extension -- may never be able to fully extend arm more x-rays at 3, 6, & maybe 9 weeks suggest cold packs & elevation to decrease swelling
Need to start stretching it in ten days when I get removable splint I tend to heal slowly, so I don't expect splint next Monday
I have a fracture in my left elbow. Actually, I don't know exactly where, but it's very near my left elbow if not in it. I got a temporary "OCL" cast on it tonight, and I have to see an orthopedic surgeon bright & early Monday morning at 7:30 to get a huge, heavy permanent cast from above my left elbow down to my hand. I guess I'll have it on for 6 weeks or so. I'm sure I'll have my "moments" during that time, but for right now at least, I see this as a time to sit back (metaphorically), reassess, rest, and in effect start over. I will have to learn how to do things with only my right hand--thank God my right arm is ok. Two summers ago when I tore my right rotator cuff, I had to do things with only my left hand. But this is different. It will be interesting.
Last evening (Nov 20) at about 4:40 as I was up in the poultry yard putting up chickens. was walking with my walking stick on the slope that *is* the poultry yard looking for eggs because the chickens have taken to laying every where. pine straw slipped under my left foot, left hand went out reflexively to catch me, fell straight on outstretched arm. left elbow hurts. tiny twists of hand, like drying hands with towel, etc., hurts like knife going into elbow. stupid chiropractor office closed on fridays I think. I will call tomorrow morning to make sure. I immediately put on cold 30 min then hot water bottle 30 min. not sure of time, but close enough. no more than 30 min. typing is becoming painful, so I guess I should curtail that activity. can't straighten arm out completely, either. here I go again.
What are these people we call "friends"? Who are they? How are they defined? How do we find them? How do we make and keep "friends"? How do they make us feel connected? What makes you feel 'connected' to your friends? I'm curious to know what others think about this.
In the past few months I've been growing and changing more than I have in the past few years. As a result, I've spent less and less time at my old, online "haunts," and more time with myself, my home, and my children. I do have a few, new online "haunts" that for special reasons I keep up with. They are Contemporary Orthodoxy and Contemporary Orthodox Thought. I also check into a new blog, Observational Commentary.
I've just finished reading Kyriacos Markides' book The Mountain of Silence. In this book, Kyriacos records his conversations on living an Orthodox spiritual life with the Athonite elder, Fr. Maximos. I am thrilled with this book. It is written in an easy style that takes the reader along with Kyriacos on his visit to Cyprus, including wonderful descriptions of the country and the monastic life at the monastery he is visiting. I find Fr. Maximos' answers to Kyriacos' questions insightful, inspiring, and intelligent. I can't say enough about this book. I read it to my husband, and he liked it, too. We have bought a second copy to keep ourselves and have given our first copy away. If you haven't read this book, I highly recommend it.
I was born in December of 1948, so I remember a lot.
1. Writing with a fountain pen in high school. 3. Wrought iron school desks with the seat for the person in front of you folded up, or down. The desks had holes in them for your ink well. (We didn't have ink pens [fountain pens] at that time--the desks were old.) 4. Hoola hoops (I could spin one on my waist, each arm, neck, and one ankle all at the same time.) 5. Saturday morning westerns: Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, Sky King, My Friend Flicka, Cisco Kid, The Lone Ranger. 6. A coal furnace in the basement. Looking inside that thing with its white-hot heat always reminded me of the Three Holy Youths in the furnace. 7. The coal truck coming every year to put coal down a chute into our basement. 8. The ice-man bringing huge blocks of ice to our ice-box once a week. 9. The horse-drawn carts of the rag man and vegetable/fruit man who drove down the alley behind our house every once in a while. 10. An outhouse. (Yes, just a few blocks away from Churchill Downs in Lousiville, we had an outhouse my first 5 years of life before we moved.) 11. No hot water in the house--only cold running water and happy to have it. 12. A chamber pot for night-time use. 13. Washing boards for washing clothes. I had my own, child sized one to use right beside Mama. 14. Ringer Washers. 15. Hanging out the wash every Monday. 16. Mama made her own liquid starch and dipped Daddy's shirt collars in it before she ironed them. 17. Sprinklers. Not the garden hose kind, the kind that is a bottle with holes in its lid. You sprinkle your line-dried clothes and rolled/wadded them up into a ball and put them in the basket before you ironed them. You had to iron them soon, or they'd mildew and go sour. 18. Roller skates with keys. These skates attached to your shoes by a sort of vice thing that you tightened with the key. Shoes that had solid soles with a sort of "lip" (for lack of a better term) that extended around the side for the skates to get a good hold on. 19. Saddle oxfords. 20. Poodle skirts. 21. Silk scarves, small ones, of all colors to tie around your neck or pony tail as a fashion accessory. 21. Shirt-waist dresses with crinoline petticoats that made the skirts "stick out". How many you wore indicated your social status among your peers. (I loved those shirt-waist dresses!) 22. Silk stockings (one for each leg) that were held up by a garter belt that went around your waist next to your skin that had four, elasticized straps with hooks to hold up the stockings; two straps per leg--one in front, one in back. 23. Seams going up the back of my stockings. 24. Satchel bags for school books. These were fat bags you carried by a hand-handle or the fancy ones also had shoulder straps so you could carry it either way. 25. Hot school lunches that cost 25 cents for a meat, a green vegetable, a starch, a slice of bread (your choice--white or whole wheat), a pat of real butter, a carton of milk, and a dessert. All that hot and for 25 cents. I remember when the price went up to 30 and then 35 cents. My Dad made $8,000/year (considered a good salary), and had five kids. Those lunches were expensive. 26. Penny candy in the corner store. You could fill up a bag with candy for a nickel, especially if you got some of the 2 pieces for 1 cent kind. 27. What is now considered a large bar of chocolate candy for 5 cents. 28. Six ounce bottles of Coca Cola in a big, red chest cooler on the porch of the corner store. You were trusted to pay your nickel inside and go out and pull out your bottle of coke. This was a rare treat. We usually had "soft drinks" only at the Church Easter picnic and egg hunt once a year. 29. I remember when 12 oz. and then 16 oz. bottles of Coke came out. Thought they were so big, I couldn't drink it all. 30. "Ratting" my hair all over, no matter the length, spraying that with strong hair spray, then smoothing it down with a brush and molding it into shape. Using a "rat comb" to lift it up, and spraying again. My hair wouldn't move in a category 3 hurricane when I was a teenager. 31. Sleeping in hair rollers six nights out of the week. Brush rollers first, then came some pink, blue, and green plastic rollers that were much more uncomfortable, but helped your hair dry faster. The color designated the size. 32. Ironing long hair to make it smooth and straight. 33. Using small, frozen fruit juice cans to roll up long hair to make it smooth and straight. 34. White lipstick in high school. I wasn't allowed to wear make up or date until I was 16. I thought it was sooo unfair. 35. Wearing skirts or dresses with stockings to school every day. 36. Knowing what was weekday dress, casual dress, semi-casual, "Sunday best," semi-formal and formal dress. 37. White gloves for Sunday wear. (I had a pair of real kid [baby goat] skin gloves when I was in elementary school, and I thought I was the cat's meow.) 38. Hats with veils on them to come down either half way or all the way over your face. I was too young to wear them, but my Mama and every other woman wore them. 39. Foxes around your neck (there were two). The head was still on them and they had shiny glass eyes. The tail of a fox would be affixed in the mouth. 40. I remember a time before sales tax, and how it affected our buying habits. 41. A loaf of bread was 10 cents, and when it went up to 25 cents, Mama and Daddy about had fits. 42. The Donaldson Bakery man who drove down the road in his van, and you could wave him down and buy fresh bakery good. Another very rare treat for us. 43. The ice cream man and the jingling bell from his van coming down the street. We seldom had the nickel for a very large cone of soft ice cream piled high. 44. Playing "cowboys and Indians" with the neighborhood kids, and running all over the block in and out of each other's homes. 45. Getting my very own "cowgirl" outfit for a birthday. It was a skirt and vest with western tassels on it and a holster and cap gun. I always played Annie Oakley. 46. Men wore hats, doffed them when they met a lady on the street, took them off when they went into a house or church.
These are a few memories. Of course, there are jillions more, but I have to stop sometime and get my breakfast.
My husband loves freshly ground coffee, so we have a supply of green coffee beans that he roasts and then grinds when he wants coffee, usually on the weekend. The trouble is, he likes his coffee roasted until it is so dark that it seems burnt to me. I'm toobourgeois. Just give me a nice, common can of "Good to the Last Drop" Maxwell House and I'm happy, so I keep a can of my favorite in the refrigerator just for myself. This morning after my husband had left for work and it was time for me to make my breakfast, I opened a fresh can of coffee and closed my eyes and let myself be wafted away by that glorious fragrance. Just where was I wafted, you might ask? Well, I was taken back to a nicer time; a time when the world was right, the morning sun shone brightly through the crisp, white, ruffled kitchen curtains, and I was safe and loved. It was the mid-1950's and that fragrance brought to life my 50 years younger mother on a sunny Saturday morning, bustling around the kitchen creating breakfast for her brood of five. That coffee fragrance means love to me, and warmth, and total acceptance, and a place in the cosmos that is just mine. Those happy, childhood mornings were full of Mama's voice (which always sounded to me like there was a song hiding just behind the words giving a lilting melody to them) calling us kids, Daddy singing or whistling in the bathroom while he shaved, which we kids loved to watch. We would all gather around the crowded kitchen table on those wonderful Saturday mornings, each of us in our own spot, Daddy would say "grace," and Mama would keep our plates filled with eggs and bacon and toast made under the oven broiler because we didn't have a toaster and didn't know we needed one. Daddy would take my younger brother, who was just a baby, and bounce him on his knee and call him "Gem," which I misunderstood as "Jim" and wondered why he called him that when that was not his name. It was only many years later that I realized that Daddy thought of his children, his babies, as gems. Sometimes Daddy would tell us a story, but usually Daddy and Mama would talk about what they were going to do that day. Most of the time we kids got to watch Saturday morning TV, and then outside to play. Sometimes Daddy needed us all outside to help clean up the yard. He was meticulous and relentless. He would mow, and we all had to do something to help, most of us were set to walk over every square inch of that yard and pick up every stone and twig no matter how small. We all complained and cried, but when we were finished, we could run anywhere in that velvety soft yard barefoot and never bruise our feet on sticks or stones. We didn't know that Daddy was loving us and caring for us when he had us "work like slaves." I discovered that I loved to take the shears and cut and pull the weeds out of the fences. I loved to see the fence come out of the raggedy weeds and look neat and trim again. I loved raking the cut weeds, too, to get them out of the way and make the yard look so neat. We kids, though, moaned and groaned, and gave our poor parents all kinds of grief for treating us like "slaves." I didn't dare say how much I liked cleaning the weeds from the fences and from the rose bushes Daddy grew in the side yard. That just wouldn't do when the other four kids were so adamant about being treated so badly. I particularly liked cleaning out the weeds from the fence in the side yard. We had a huge wild cherry tree there, which I loved to climb, book in hand, as high as I dared and sit there for hours and read and feel the tree sway in the wind. High in that tree was where I spent most of my summer days. We also had a large lilac bush and a large rose bush that stood side by side, and when they bloomed, usually around Mother's Day, it was glorious. These two bushes stood just behind the grapevine arbor that made a hidden cave, that was cool and sweet in those hot summer days.
I took this picture this morning while I was standing on my front porch. My front porch is about 15 feet off the ground since my house is built into the side of a hill.
This, it seems, is the Year of the Spiders. All Summer I've been greeted with these beautiful works of Nature as I stepped out my back door to go let out the chickens. This morning was particularly foggy and dewy so that the web showed up a bit in the picture. Look for the lacy web just to the right of the humming bird feeder. (Click on the picture to see a large version of it.) These huge, fat, brown, ugly spiders build these engineering marvels during the night; they are not there at dusk when I go to lock up my chickens, but they are there just after dawn when I go to let them out. This particular one, easily 3 or even 4 feet across, was up high enough that I could walk under it without disturbing it. Most of them are built right across my path, and I have to tear it down to go on. I don't know what kind of arachnids these things are, but some of them are big, fat, brown, and ugly; while some of them are black and orange or yellow striped and pretty. They are huge, whatever they are, and I'm glad they stay outside.
The other day a lady on one of the several Orthodox fora I subscribe to made the comment that being Orthodox can be a very lonely thing. After thinking about this for a while, I was reminded of this song that was popular back in the mid 1950's when I was a little girl. I got to thinking about loneliness and friendship and all that stuff, and I wondered why a person feels lonely in a Church that preaches love, acceptance, and forgiveness? I mean, we're all in this together, aren't we? We're supposed to "bear one another's burdens" and encourage one another, aren't we? There doesn't seem to be much of that going around in any group of people, not just Orthodox. Oh, there are always the small groups of people who are "BFF" and who have known each other forever who form such tight cliques that no one else is really welcome into the "inner circle." People are, "of course," welcome, but they are usually and completely unintentionally relegated to the periphery and never truly accepted fully. This is natural, but it's sad.
Everyone, in my opinion (which is worth what you pay for it), is born with an innate hunger for acceptance. It's more than just "acceptance," it's a need to know that you are recognized as "special" and valued even in just a small way. There's an innate hunger for a true "Mutual Admiration Society." People vie with one another to give the prettiest, most thoughtful, most elegantly wrapped presents at birthdays, anniversaries, Namedays, Christmas, whatever; but all this competition is not exclusively aimed at pleasing the recipient, although that figures largely in it. There is a kernel of the thought that just maybe the giver will be recognized as "special." When friends, even very good and long-time friends, look at each other, there is always that tiny searching for a spark in the other's eyes that says that the friend recognizes you, the person, the special and unique person who has intrinsic value. Friends like this are rare and hard to find and beyond value. I wonder if that's because we are all searching for that spark in another's eyes and not trying to ignite that spark in our own eyes for our friends. What is it that we are afraid of? Is it that we fear that the other will not reflect our attempts at friendship? Do we fear an ultimate rejection? Whatever it is, it is pervasive and apparently incurable.
What do we think will happen if we do not see that spark of recognition and acceptance? What do we think will happen if we are ultimately rejected? Would anything change? Does our perception of our intrinsic worth depend on another person's recognition of it?
Beneath the present floor of the church [The Church of Santa Susanna, Rome, Italy] are the ruins of a Roman house that was constructed about the year 280 AD. These were relatives of the General Gaius Aurelius Diocletian, who would become Emperor in 284 AD. Like the Emperor, they were from Dalmatia or what is now modern Croatia. The family included four brothers. Caius and Gabinus and Gabinus’s daughter, Susanna who lived here and two other brothers, Maximus and Claudius, who lived elsewhere in the city, and were a part of the Roman government. The family’s religious beliefs were divided. Caius, Gabinus and Susanna were Christians, while Maximus and Claudius remained followers of the old religion of Rome. Caius and Gabinus were not only Christians, they were priests. In December 283, Caius was elected Bishop of Rome. He would serve as Pope until his death in April, 296 AD. If the clergy of Rome elected Caius because of his relationship with his powerful cousin, Diocletian, they would be greatly disappointed. In 303 AD the Emperor Diocletian would launch the last great persecution against the Christian faith. From 280 AD when the house was completed until 293 AD this family residence served as a “domus ecclesia,” or house church. As the Christian Church was not legally recognized by the Roman state, homes and other large private buildings belonging to community members, served as the first churches.
After becoming Emperor in 284 AD, and in order to insure peace and stability, Diocletian adopted a form of government called tetrarchy, or divided rule. Diocletian ruled primarily in the east, and a joint Emperor, Maximian, another general who Diocletian had promoted, ruled in the west. In turn, each Emperor or “Augustus” was to appoint a junior ruler or “Caesar,” who had the right to succeed him. Maximian named Constantius (the father of Constantine), and Diocletian named Maxentius Galerius. In the year 293 AD in order to guarantee Maxentius’s succession, Diocletian prepared to marry this young general into his immediate family. Diocletian’s daughter, Valeria was married. The only unmarried young female in the family was Susanna, his cousin. So in the Spring of 293 AD, Diocletian announced the engagement of Maxentius Galerius to Susanna. This would lead to a family crisis and to martyrdom.
The story of what occured between members of the family comes from a 6th century account. Susanna refused the marriage proposal. Her father Gabinus and her uncle Caius supported this decision and encouraged her to keep her commitment to Christ. Her non-Christian uncles, Claudius and Maximus tried to persuade Susanna to marry Maxentius, after all this would make her Empress one day. In a conversation between the four brothers, Claudius and Maximus were converted to Christianity. The General Maxentius then came to the house, believing he could persuade Susanna to marry him. Susanna’s refusal soon led to the suspicion that she and other members of her family might be Christians. The Roman Consul Macedonius then called Susanna to Roman Forum and asked her to prove her loyalty to the state by performing an act of worship before the God Jupiter. She refused, confirming the fact that both she and other members of her family might well be Christian, There was no attempt to arrest her however, as she was a member of the Emperor’s family.
Susanna refused the marriage proposal, not only because she was a Christian but in addition, she had taken a vow of virginity. When Diocletian on the eastern frontier learned of his cousin’s refusal and the reasons why, he was deeply angered, and ordered her execution. A cohort of soldiers arrived at the house and beheaded her. Her father Gabinus was arrested and starved to death in prison. Maximus and Claudius, together with Claudius’s wife Prepedigna and their children, Alexander and Cuzia are all martyred. Ironically the only survivor was Pope Caius, who had escaped and hid in the catacombs. These murders within Diocletian’s own family would foreshadow the last great persecution against the Christian church which the Emperor began in 303 AD. Diocletian’s daughter Valeria was divorced, and in June 293 AD married Maxentius who would succeed Diocletian in 305 AD.
In the year 330 AD, a basilica was built over the site of the house of Susanna. It was first named San Caius in honor of the pope who had lived here. The bodies of Susanna and Gabinus were brought back from the catacombs and buried in the church. In the year 590 AD, Pope Saint Gregory the Great, in recognition of the cult of devotion that had grown up around the tomb of Santa Susanna, renamed the church in her honor. Saint Susanna’s feastday is August 11.
It’s seldom trouble comes alone. I’ve noticed this: When things go wrong An’ trouble comes a-visitin’, it always brings a friend along; Sometimes it’s one you’ve known before, and then perhaps it’s someone new Who stretches out a helping hand an’ stops to see what he can do.
If never trials came to us, if grief an’ sorrow passed us by, If every day the sun came out an’ clouds were never in the sky, We’d still have neighbors, I suppose, each one pursuin’ selfish ends, But only neighbors they would be–we’d never know them as our friends.
Out of the troubles I have had have come my richest friendships here, Kind hands have helped to bear my care, kind words have fallen on my ear; An’ so I say when trouble comes I know before the storm shall end That I shall find my bit of care has also brought to me a friend.
Ain’t no use as I can see In sittin’ underneath a tree An’ growlin’ that your luck is bad, An’ that your life is extry sad; Your life ain’t sadder than your neighbor’s Nor any harder are your labors; It rains on him the same as you, An’ he has work he hates to do; An’ he gits tired an’ he gits cross, An’ he has trouble with the boss; You take his whole life, through an’ through, Why, he’s no better off than you.
If whinin’ brushed the clouds away I wouldn’t have a word to say; If it made good friends out o’ foes I’d whine a bit, too, I suppose; But when I look around an’ see A lot o’ men resemblin’ me, An’ see ‘em sad, an’ see ‘em gay With work t’ do most every day, Some full o’ fun, some bent with care, Some havin’ troubles hard to bear, I reckon, as I count my woes, They’re ’bout what everybody knows.
The day I find a man who’ll say He’s never known a rainy day, Who’ll raise his right hand up an’ swear In forty years he’s had no care, Has never had a single blow, An’ never known one touch o’ woe, Has never seen a loved one die, Has never wept or heaved a sigh, Has never had a plan go wrong, But allus laughed his way along; Then I’ll sit down an’ start to whine That all the hard luck here is mine.
This is my second "read" of this book. I usually don't read non-fiction because I read for enjoyment and escapism--that requires the skillful telling of a good story, which is something not usually found in non-fiction books. I like history, and this book is pure history. It's well researched and documented, which impresses me because I'm so bad at researching and documenting stuff. Anyway, this book is chock full of well-told stories that are even more fascinating and exciting to me because they are *real*. It's full of obscure facts that boggle my mind. For instance, most everyone "knows "that Kentucky was not inhabited because of it was so full of game that the surrounding tribes, Cherokee and Shawnee, "shared" it as a common hunting ground. WRONG! It was inhabited "first" by the "Fort Ancient People." I'd love to know more about these mound builders. After these people left or died out, it was inhabited by Mosopeleas, Honniasontkeronons (who were these people?), and Algonqins who were called "Shanwans" by the Iroquois, "Chaouanons" by the French, and "Shawanoes or Shawnees" by the English. This uncovering of such little-known facts make this a fascinating book to read. And the book has maps! I love maps.
Today I'm including a few pictures from the fruits and flowers in our yard right now. (Click on the pictures for a larger, more detailed view.) This year is so different from last year when the late frost and drought killed off everything that blossomed or fruited. The picture of the Zinnia is "just for pretty." Our pear trees are heavily laden with fruit, bending down the branches. Our figs are just beginning to ripen, and we're going to have so many that we won't be able to eat them all. The purple Amaranth (there is a green variety) is a "first time" experiment my husband is trying this year, so we have just a few plants to see if they thrive or not. (In the background of the picture of the Amaranth there is the gate leading to my poultry yard. You can see how stepping into my poultry yard is like stepping into a different and hidden world.) Amaranth is a grain, and is high in protein. My husband says of this plant, " Although allegedly indigenous to the New World, it is quite common in Europe and Asia. Amaranth comes from the Greek amaranthos (αμάρανθος) the "un-withering," or “fadeless” (flower). Another Greek favorite of this fruit is more colloquially known as “vlita” in Greece [Gr. βλήτα pronounced ‘VLEE-tah’]. " If we can get them to thrive, perhaps we will have an alternative source of grain if we need it. Perhaps. Finally, one of many "hands" of Pawpaws on our three Pawpaw trees. I love this fruit. I think it tastes like a cross between Pineapple Guava and Grapes, but others might not agree. It is soft and "custardy" inside and just lovely to eat. My husband says of this fruit, "This is now a rare North American fruit since it is an understory plant. When the Eastern forests' original, indigenous, old growth was cut down, the saplings of the Pawpaw could not tolerate the direct ultraviolet light from the sun and died. During the nineteenth century, the Dept. of Agriculture made very good efforts to improve the taste and varieties of this fruit. Unfortunately, they do not transport well and must be consumed within several days of becoming ripe. So, with the advent of mass transportation of fruits and vegetables in the 20th century, there was very little economic interest in the Pawpaw. It is historically interesting that during the Lewis and Clark Expedition to the Pacific Ocean there arose a circumstance in which the party was starving. They asked the Indians in the area for help, and they directed them to a grove of Pawpaws for sustenance. Thusly the success of this Expedition was directly linked to a North American fruit that is unknown to most people. The nutritional value, including protein, anti-bacterial, and anti-carcinogenic qualities are significant and are still being explored. Its scientific name is Asimina triloba, and is in the "custard apple" family. All of its relatives appear to be native to the tropics, which is evident by the fruit's appearance."
Something to think about:
If you are praised, be silent. If you are scolded, be silent. If you incur losses, be silent. If you receive profit, be silent. If you are satiated, be silent. If you are hungry, also be silent. And do not be afraid that there will be no fruit when all dies down; there will be! Not everything will die down. Energy will appear; and what energy!
Occasionally when I get so frazzled I want to scream, I go up onto the hill behind the house where I have placed a chair inside my poultry yard. It's quiet and seemingly isolated. During the summer, I can't see the house less than 50 yards behind me, and no one can see me, unless they know where and how to look. I look over the top of the hill, through the trees, and up into the sky. There is absolutely nothing to remind me that I live in an industrial world full of hurrying and scurrying to meet artificial deadlines. My chickens sometimes come and look at me as if to say, "Why are you up here? This is our yard." I love my chickens, even though they prohibit my husband and me from taking overnight trips together. Someone has to stay home to let them out at dawn and lock them up at dusk. This is necessary because these woods are full of Opossums and raccoons that would dearly love a nice, chicken dinner. Once, last spring, we were visiting some friends and stayed until a couple of hours after dark. I thought my chickens would be safe because their roost in their henhouse is over 6' high and I was sure that any predators would be so used to them being locked up that they wouldn't pay any attention to them. Wrong. When we got home, I immediately went up to my chickens to lock them in. I was met just inside the gate by a couple of the hens cowering under the bushes. Chickens cannot see well at night, so they are virtually helpless if they are left outside. Several other chickens were scattered across the poultry yard hiding behind trees and bushes. My husband and I, using spotlights, went lumbering through the bushes in the pitch dark looking for them and capturing them to put back in their henhouse. I was sure that I was going to find several corpses, but I didn't. I was lucky that night. Very lucky. I have no idea why whatever predator was up there that evening didn't kill at least one of my chickens, but they were all safe.
But I digress, and my husband has come in and has started reading to me about pawpaws, so I'm going to have to save this and come back to it when I can concentrate. Be sure to come back in a couple of days to see what I've added. NUTS!
This past weekend, I and my eldest daughter and her 3 year old son drove down to Mobile to visit with my other daughter and her 3 year old daughter. This was the first time all of "us girls" had been together since my son's wedding. (Who, by the way, has grown into a wonderful young man.) So much has happened to all of us during those years. We went to the Botanical Garden early one morning and it was beautiful. Then, when we were all tired and the kids were ready for a change, we got them milkshakes and took them to the kiddie park. I was hot and tired, so I sat at a table in a pavilion to keep out of the sun while my daughters supervised their children.
I watched my children push their children on the swings and remembered when it was I pushing them both on other swings. Then, not for the first time this weekend, I realize how superfluous I am. I married, bore children, raised them, and sent them off as young adults to navigate as best they can the rough waters of this river of life; and I hoped I had given them all the tools they needed.
I am so proud of these young women whom I hardly know. It feels so odd to be the one on the sidelines basically taking up space. I'm used to being the one in charge and responsible for all the mundane details that are so necessary. Now I watch my daughters performing the tasks I had always considered my own particular responsibility. And I feel superfluous. Nature is finished with me, and I am a hanger-on whose purpose and usefulness is over. This is such a strange stage of life; but I am tired--emotionally and physically tired--and I am ready, even grateful, for this superfluity.
Thirty-eight years ago this morning I got up early and the first thing on my mind was, "I can't wait until all this hoopla is over so Tom and I can be alone." Of course, it was a "bad hair" day. I had decided to fix it myself to save money because we didn't have any, and I usually did a good job. But, of course, not today. Besides, I've always hated the obsession with "getting your hair done." As it turns out, it didn't matter. It never does; it's all in our minds, the catastrophizing, that is. I walked over to the church and my girlfriends were there. My Mom and my youngest sister were there. My other sister was 9 months pregnant with her second child and couldn't make the trip. Everyone was laughing and being "girls." Except me. I just wanted it all to be over so I could get some peace and quiet. I have never liked crowds no matter how happy the occasion. I got into my dress, brushed out my hair and waited for the flowers. They didn't come. And didn't come. I finally, in my own inimitable way, called them and told them to get those flowers down here right now, after all, they had had several months' notice of the time and place! The flowers came. I'm usually a "go with the flow" type of person, rather quiet, but when push comes to shove, I can be a real B**ch. People are usually surprised; surprised at the difference in their perception of me, and surprised at how fast things can get done. Suddenly I was at the church doors with Tom and standing in front of the priest. We all processed down the aisle (since my Dad had refused to "give me away" or even attend) as the organist played Bach's Wedding Cantata. The church was full; people were even standing up along the walls. I didn't know any of them and wondered who on earth all these people were. There must have been 200 people there. I think Tom's Mom had invited the whole town. My parents sat in the usual pew. Mom cried and Dad made ugly, disapproving faces. My Dad had promised not to come, but I knew he would. I remember praying in front of the "Mary statue" for help to be a good wife. Finally, it was over and we were in the hall fake-smiling and wishing we could get in the car and zoom away. My Mom asked me if we were "really married" since the priest had never "pronounced" us man and wife. Pictures were snapped, congratulations all around, and at last we are in the car and rolling away from all that controlled chaos! Ah, what a wonderful ride that was! Through the Kentucky Bluegrass region, past beautiful horse farms, up to the historical town of Bardstown. We stayed at the Old Talbot Inn where Louis Phillipe, a once-French king, had stayed for a while at the invitation of the local Catholic Bishop. (The RC Cathedral was in Bardstown then before it was moved to Louisville.) The room where he stayed had been roped off, and the pictures his court painter, whom he brought with him, had painted on the walls were still there, along with some bullet holes from some rambunctious guests. We had ham with raisin sauce for our dinner. It was a quiet dining room, and people kept looking at us. I was embarrassed, but proud, too. I made sure everyone could see my newly-adorned left hand. We got up the next morning tired and hungry for a cup of coffee. It was Sunday morning, and the whole town was closed down. We walked all over the place, and everything was closed. We walked up to "My Old Kentucky Home," but it was closed, too, so we just walked over the grounds a bit and peeked through the windows. We were aghast that the town was locked up, so we just checked out of our hotel (Tom had to be at work that evening--he had a second shift job.) and drove the 45 minutes or so to Gethsemane Abbey (aside: my grandfather had once worked on the grounds as a gardener) for Sunday morning Mass, then home to our own little second story apartment. Tom's Dad had taken all our things over there and set up everything for us, so all we had to do was walk in. How very nice of him. It was a furnished apartment and I really loved it. The sun shown through the ruffled curtains in the kitchen and made it so merry. We had a huge (actually shared with the tenants downstairs) fenced backyard with trees and shade. Tom planted a small garden in a corner of that yard, so we had some fresh vegetables that summer, and I learned to bake bread. I read Tolkein's _Lord of the Ring_ for the first time all the way through that summer. So began my married life.
We've been having the usual Spring trouble with raccoons getting into my chicken feed. In past years they've been satisfied with eating whatever small bits the chickens left over from the day. This year, however, they've been breaking into my storage shed and taking the lid off the metal garbage can and feasting on the grain. I put a heavy cement block on the lid, but the first night they moved that out of the way and feasted anyway. They didn't move the cement block the past two nights. They got into the shed by pulling the front wall away from the frame. Yes, they pulled the wall away from the frame and crawled in. That's really not the feat of strength is seems to be since that corner of the shed has been well rain-soaked over the years, and the wood has become soft. However, I never expected them to rip apart a heavy, wire box trap. Makes me wonder what kind of raccoon is still up there. They are not the sweet, cute, cuddly looking "bandits" they appear to be. They are wild animals, and it's best to remember that.
My husband emailed the company that sells the box traps and ordered a new sliding "back door." (This trap has a sliding back door to release the trapped animal.) I included the pictures with that email. I also sent the pictures to a very old family friend who is something of a "woodsman" (not a hunter) to get his take on this ripped trap.
I just can't get over that ripped trap. I NEVER expected to see that. I mean, this trap is big and built to trap raccoons and animals of that size. Life sure is "interesting" out here in the boonies.
This is not "the" frog, but it was a frog just like this one. I took this one's picture in my back yard a year or so ago. Seems we have a plethora of frogs and other small fauna.
I was watering some hanging strawberry plants with a large pitcher. Apparently, unseen by me, a green tree frog was on one of those large leaves--one of those small, green frogs with suctions on their feet to help them hang onto things. He hopped onto the pitcher and looked me right in the face. At the same instant I saw him, he hopped right into my face and latched onto my upper lip! He just hung there all wet and slimy and heavy. Blech! Blech! I screamed because I couldn't get him off and I was afraid he would crawl into my mouth. My husband came running to fend off whatever monster had got ahold of me. By the time he got there, I had managed to knock that slimy sucker off my mouth and onto the ground. I ran into the house and washed my face and rinsed out my mouth with Listerine. He must have hopped away somewhere, because I couldn't find him. When I went back outside to help my husband with a project he was working on, he asked me if the frog had turned into a prince. LOL I told him, "No, it was just a slimy frog; and I already have my Prince!"
It's been a while since I've posted here. Paschal services were all I could have hoped for, except for the extreme fatigue that lasts for days and days. I think all the other bloggers have just about exhausted this topic for now.
I had to give back my dog Charlie. He quickly became stronger than I am, and he is a definite "alpha" type. It didn't help any that he liked my husband better than he liked me, neither, since he was supposed to be "my" dog. He tolerated me as the "alpha female," but looked to my husband for what was really going on. These two traits, his physical strength and his inclination to dominate, convinced me that I didn't need this particular dog. It didn't help any, either, that he was beginning to leave small bruises on my arms where he would take it into his mouth in "dog play." There was some thought among some people who saw him that he might have had a bit more wolf in him than a regular Husky. Perhaps. I don't know. He certainly looks like a wolf with is longer and more slender muzzle. I hated to give him up. He was a beautiful dog, healthy, enthusiastic, jolly, fun-loving. He was just too much "dog" for me. I kept thinking, I can handle him now, but what about next year, or in three years, or five? I'm getting older and weaker, while he hasn't even come into his prime yet. No, I definitely didn't need that dog, much as I wanted to see him running through my woods chasing rabbits and having fun.
Also as part of my "catch up" theme, I need to say to the very few people who read this that I probably won't be much online, not that I'm such an "online presence" anyway. It just seems that my life is taking a turn toward more "real" life and less "virtual" life, which is, I suppose, a good thing. I don't post to the couple of groups in which I've maintained a membership (one of them has had to move, and I really don't even know where it is anymore), and I've gotten a new Mac laptop.
Wow. Macs are soooo different. Take every--every--assumption you have about running a computer and trash them. Learning a Mac is starting over from scratch again. Man, I'm lost on this thing. So, my "virtual" world has shrunk to almost nothing, and this Mac seems to have actually shrunk it more.
My "real" world, however, seems to keep getting bigger. Exhaustingly so. Is this a good thing? I think I need a vacation.
This is Charlie. He's about a year old, and was a stray. He will need some filling out when he gets over all the excitement he's had in his life the past few weeks. We just brought him home Saturday morning from "The Dog Pound," which is an animal rescue organization about a two hour drive north of us. Charlie did not like the long drive home, but he's a very good and patient dog. He's a Husky, at the very least mostly Husky. I'm not sure about that long, slim muzzle and narrow skull. I had a Husky before who had beautiful black and white markings. She died last June (2007) of cancer. I've missed her so much. I hope Charlie and my cats can come to the same agreement that Suky (my other Husky) had with them. We're working on it. So far, so good. During the adjustment phase, I'm keeping Charlie very close to me. He sleeps in the basement so the cats can have the run of the house upstairs, but during the day Charlie is with me. I walk him three times a day, morning, mid-day, and evening. Those walks are either going to save me or kill me. My muscles are so sore and stiff! Charlie is a good dog, and always looks over his shoulder when he senses me lagging back and matches his pace to mine, but my triceps, glutes, quadraceps, and obliques are so sore. I'm tired, too. And stiff. I'd already been taking 30 minute walks several times a week, but those walks can't hold a candle to walking Charlie! We've been to the river, to the neighbors (he and neighbor American Bull "Drake" are going to be great friends), and into the forest. He loves it. Actually, I can't wait until he can be let loose to explore on his own. I guess it will be at least a couple of weeks. I have to make sure he understands that my cats are part of his "pack," and I'm the "alpha female," and my hubby is the "alpha male." So far he's understanding this.
Look what's getting into my chicken feed every night. These two mice manage to squeeze themselves into a heavy, plastic can that has a tight fitting lid. I don't know how they do it, but each morning they're there. I feed my chickens a mixture of corn, sunflower seeds, millet, oats, and some other grain I can't remember what it is. They seem to be very happy, chubby mice. Midnight, my black cat, likes to come up with me in the morning to let the chickens out, and she has fun in the storage shed when I release the mice from their imprisonment. She hasn't managed to catch them, though. I'll have to figure out a way to keep the mice from getting into the grain.
I cribbed this from Muttonings. Nice blog. You should visit it.
What I was doing 10 years ago:
1. Recovering from Graves' Disease. 2. Preparing to attend, against everybody's advice because I was so ill, my second daughter's graduation from the U.S. Coast Guard Academy. 3. Battling with the local public school. Don't ask. 4. Getting to know a new dog that wandered into our yard and became part of the family. (Suky) 5. Debating whether or not I should let my teaching certificate expire. (I let it expire.)
Five things on my To Do List today:
1. Laundry 2. Read "The Valley of Fear" (Sherlock Holmes) 3. Clean bathrooms. 4. Form and bake some clay "vomitaria" and hearts for my husband's Sandtray group. 5. Read the recent "Cook's Illustrated" magazine section on fish this month and maybe try out their poached fish recipe.
Five snacks I enjoy:
1. Veggie crackers. 2. Semi-sweet chocolate. 3. Fruit 4. Raw veggies and dip 5. Cookies
Five things I would do if I were a billionaire:
1. Make an appointment with my CPA and lay out a plan to keep the tax man from getting most of it. 2. Invest about 60% of it and form trusts from the interest/dividend income in the name of my children, grandchildren, a couple of monasteries, and a trust to handle my and my husband's medical care in our old age. 3. Blow some of it on completely re-doing the inside of my home--new paint, draperies, furniture, carpet in bedrooms, wood floors everywhere else, clean out and finish the basement. Hire a couple of people to keep the yard up and the house cleaned. 4. Buy a property that had a home with a smaller cottage also on the property, put enough money in a savings account to pay the taxes on the place for five years, and give it to a young friend who is really sacrificing to keep a roof over his mother's head--to the detriment of his own personal development. 5. Take that remaining bit, about 25% or so, and invest it and hope to live off of that for our retirement.
Five places I have visited:
1. Navarre Beach. 2. Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. 3. New London, CT 4. San Francisco, CA. 5. Mt. Shasta, CA
Five jobs I have had:
1. Mail clerk 2. Shipping clerk 3. Private Secretary (That would be called an executive secretary today.) 4. Substitute teacher 5. High School teacher
Well, I notice it's been two weeks since I've posted anything here. Lots of things have been happening during those two weeks, all having to do with my family; so I really don't want to post about that. Instead, I took a few pictures of the remaining bulbs still blooming in my back yard. Yes, they are all beginning to die back, but there are still plenty to delight the eye and lift the spirit, thanks to my loving husband. He planted them all for me.
For the past 10 days or so, something has been getting into the grain storage shed up in my poultry yard. I knew it was a racoon--how I knew, I don't know; I've just developed a sense. The little beggar learned how to unlock the door and get in. This is the time of year for it. The "critters" are coming out of their wintertime doldrums and beginning to roam farther from their dens. 'Coons are smart, which is another reason I knew it had to be a raccoon that was getting into my storage shed and stealing the food.
Yesterday afternoon we were away from the house visiting with some friends, and we didn't get home until well after dark. These critters tend to start roaming about an hour after full dark, so I knew that they would be in my poultry yard before I got home to lock up my chickens; but I thought it (I thought there was only one critter coming in) would just go for the grain, since the door was wide open. Well, when we got home, and I went up there to lock up my chickens, two hens met me just inside the yard, so I knew something had gotten into their roosting house and upset matters quite a bit. I rushed up to the house to see how many were left. I have only 7 chickens at this time, and there were only three in the house--two hens and one of the roosters. Well, I was convinced that I'd lost at least one hen and the dominant rooster. My husband came up to help, and with the aid of lights, we got the first two hens back into the chicken house. My husband then went back into the house. We were both convinced that the remaining two chickens were dead, and my husband is a sensitive type, and didn't want to find any dead chickens. I stayed up there, though, and searched around through the brush until I found the remaining hen crouched in one of the farthest corners of the poultry yard. I yelled for my husband, and he came back up. With me herding the chicken slowly in his direction, he kept his light off and when she got close enough to him, he grabbed her. In she went to the chicken house, and I stood there with the light until she could see her way up to the roosts, which are about 6' high. Meanwhile, my husband went back to the house. I was determined to find my dominant rooster, or what remained of him. So I stayed up there and crawled around through the brush some more until I found him on the opposite side of the yard hiding behind a tree and up against the fence. Now my birds are Marans chickens, and they are big. I mean this rooster's head comes up to my mid-thigh just standing there, and this breed grows very long spurs on their feet. This particular rooster's spurs are easily 4" long at least. The minute I got close to him, he took a defensive stance, and I knew this bird was not going to be picked up and carried to the chicken house like the hens. I yelled for my husband again, and told him I found the rooster and he was alive and apparently not hurt. Well, my husband was not too keen on the idea of grabbing this rooster, either. I told him to just open the chicken house door, and shine his light on it while I slowly herded the rooster in that direction. When he saw his house, that old rooster perked up and walked right in there. Of course, all the other chickens started squawking at this, but the second his feet hit the roost, they all got quiet. I shut them up and came back in the house. We were quite surprised that I didn't lose a single bird, but I don't expect these traumatized hens to lay any eggs for quite a while, if they ever lay again. Sometimes a hen that has been traumatized will just quit laying altogether, and these hens are old, so they might just stop laying. I hope not. I have an "order" (gentleman's agreement) with another Marans breeder/lover to sell me another half dozen pullets later this Spring when he hatches some out and when they get old enough to tell the pullets from the cockerels, but this might fall through, since Marans chickens are notorious for "throwing" more males than females, and sometimes you won't get a single pullet out of a clutch of eggs. Time will tell.
Before we went to bed, we set a trap by the roosting house and another inside the storge shed and left the shed door open. (The critter could get in there anyway.) I expected to catch at least one 'coon in the shed, and maybe another 'coon up by the roosting house. I was rather surprised to find a young o'possum in the trap up by the chickens' roosting house. I'm pretty sure that the varmint responsible for chasing my chickens around the yard after dark last night was the o'possum. He was caught nearest their house, and that raccoon was too big for the rooster to chase off and not get killed or hurt. All in all, I consider myself very lucky. Now, if the hens can get over their fright and lay a few more eggs, I'd be even happier--and luckier.
Here's a picture of this dominant rooster. This is not his best pose. He has his head pulled in and his tail down a bit, and he's giving me a mean look. I just wish you could see how big he really is.
We had a light dusting of snow again this morning. The ground was too warm for it to stick, but it did stick to the grass and trees. I've uploaded some pictures below. I believe if you click on a picture, you can see a larger version. It might work differently with different browsers, though.
Remember that animal burrow in my front yard I blogged about earlier? Well, I've been watching that area, and it's a cotton tail bunny rabbit. He only comes out well after dark (I didn't know rabbits were nocturnal.), so this (below) is the best picture I could get of him. I had to take the picture from the front porch, which is about 15' high and about 100' from the bunny, and it was pitch dark. I used a spotlight on him, but that didn't help much. It's not a good picture, so I found this one (right above) on the internet that looks a lot like him.
I'm glad it's a rabbit and not a fox or groundhog or armadillo.
by St. Nectarios Plagal First Tone (Tone 5) Refrain: Rejoice, O Unwedded Bride!
O Virgin pure, immaculate/ O Lady Theotokos O Virgin Mother, Queen of all/ and fleece which is all dewy More radiant than the rays of sun/ and higher than the heavens Delight of virgin choruses/ superior to Angels. Much brighter than the firmament/ and purer than the sun's light More holy than the multitude/ of all the heav'nly armies. Rejoice, O Unwedded Bride!
O Ever Virgin Mary/ of all the world, the Lady O bride all pure, immaculate/ O Lady Panagia O Mary bride and Queen of all/ our cause of jubilation Majestic maiden, Queen of all/ O our most holy Mother More hon'rable than Cherubim/ beyond compare more glorious than immaterial Seraphim/ and greater than angelic thrones. Rejoice, O Unwedded Bride!
Rejoice, O song of Cherubim/ Rejoice, O hymn of angels Rejoice, O ode of Seraphim/ the joy of the archangels Rejoice, O peace and happiness/ the harbor of salvation O sacred chamber of the Word/ flow'r of incorruption Rejoice, delightful paradise/ of blessed life eternal Rejoice, O wood and tree of life/ the fount of immortality. Rejoice, O Unwedded Bride!
I supplicate you, Lady/ now do I call upon you And I beseech you, Queen of all/ I beg of you your favor Majestic maiden, spotless one/ O Lady Panagia I call upon you fervently/ O sacred, hallowed temple Assist me and deliver me/ protect me from the enemy And make me an inheritor/ of blessed life eternal. Rejoice, O Unwedded Bride!
(Source and translation: Holy Nativity Convent, Saxonburg, Pennsylvania, U.S.A.) http://www.serfes.org/spiritual/november...
Original Greek text Text of Αγνή Παρθένε copy pasted from http://www.matia.gr.
Χαίρε Νύμφη Ανύμφευτε. Και κλήρονομον δείξον με, ζωής της αιωνίου, Χαίρε Νύμφη Ανύμφευτε.
(In the Roman alphabet below.) Agni parthene Despoina,ahrante theotoke Here nimfi animfefte Parthene mitir anasa,panedrase te poke Here nimfi animfefte ipsilotera ouranon aktinon lamprotera Here nimfi animfefte hara parthenikon horon aggelon ipertera Here nimfi animfefte eklamprotera ouranon fotos katharotera Here nimfi animfefte ton ouranion stration pason ayiotera Here nimfi animfefte Maria aeiparthene kosmou pantos kiria Here nimfi animfefte ahrante numfi pannagne Despoina Panagia Here nimfi animfefte Maria nimfi anassa haras imon etia Here nimfi animfefte kori semni vasilissa mitir iperagia Here nimfi animfefte timiotera herouvim iperendoxotera Here nimfi animfefte ton asomaton serafim ton thronon ipertera Here nimfi animfefte here to asma herouvim here imnos aggelon Here nimfi animfefte here odi ton serafim hara ton arhaggelon Here nimfi animfefte here irini kai hara limin tis sotirias Here nimfi animfefte pastas tou logou iera anthos tis aftharsias Here nimfi animfefte here paradise trofis zois te eoinias Here nimfi animfefte here to xilon tis zois pihi athanasias Here nimfi animfefte se iketevo Despina se nin epikaloume Here nimfi animfefte se disopo pantanassa sin harin exetoume Here nimfi animfefte kori semni kai aspile Despina Panagia Here nimfi animfefte thermos epikaloume se nae igiasmene Here nimfi animfefte antilavou mou,rise me apo tou polemiou Here nimfi animfefte ke klironomon deixon me zois tis eoniou Here nimfi animfefte~
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