Excerpt from my current reading

[This is a memoir of Agatha Christie's time in Syria with her archaeologist husband, Sir Max Mallowan.]

"Michel [the Armenian chauffeur], swerving across the road with diabolical intentions, steps heavily on the accelerator and charges a party of Arabs -- two old women and a man with a donkey.

They scatter, screaming, and Max surpasses himself in swearing angrily at Michel. What the hell does he think he's doing? He might have killed them!

That, apparently, was more or less Michel's intention.

'What would it have mattered?' he asks, flinging both hands in the air and allowing the car to take its own course. 'They are Mohammedans, are they not?'

After enunciating this, according to his views, highly Christian sentiment, he relapses into the martyred silence of one misunderstood. What kind of Christians are these, he seems to be saying to himself, weak and irresolute in the faith!

Max lays it down as a positive rule that no attempted murder of Mohammedans is to be permitted."

--from Come, Tell Me How You Live by Agatha Christie Mallowan, published 1946

In praise of the cat

"For I will consider my cat Jeoffrey,
For he is the servant of the Living God, duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the east, he worships in this way.
For this is done by wreathing his whole body seven times round, with elegant quickness.
For he knows that God is his Savior.
For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.
For I am possessed of a cat, surpassing in beauty.
For which I take occasion to bless Almighty God."

--excerpts from "Jubilate Agno," by Christopher Smart, c. 1756 - 1763

Grandma's birthday luncheon

An early taste of spring

My family and I were delighted to receive this beautiful bouquet from a friend who works at a flower shop. Take a close look -- you can see lilies, hyacinth, snapdragons, heather, tulips -- all kinds of gorgeous flowers! She sent it over in thanks for our taking her to see the Moscow Festival Ballet's performance of Prokofiev's "Cinderella." What a blessing to have such a gracious friend!

Exercise in watercolors: a lemon

Armchair travelling

Lately I have been reading and studying about archaeological excavations in the Middle East. I just finished Treasures Under the Sand, about the life of Sir Leonard Woolley (and particularly his excavations at Ur of the Chaldeans). I've been working my way through Treasures from Bible Times and Unwrapping the Pharaohs. Dad and I have been so interested in the latter book, and the accompanying DVD, that we have recently subscribed to David Down's bi-monthly magazine, Archaeological Diggings.

If you are at all interested in archaeology and enjoy some clever humor, I recommend the book Motel of the Mysteries by David Macauley. It's a satirical look at an archaeological dig some 2,000 years in the future, in which the amateur-ish archaeologist, Howard Carson, uncovers a late 20th century motel room. Carson goes on to misidentify the function and meaning of everything he finds. My favorite illustration is probably of Howard's assistant, Harriet, decked out in "jewelry" à la Sophia Schliemann. Check at the library -- it's worth a laugh!

Exercise in watercolors: my shoe

Squirrel tracks

Another favorite passage

"...Harriet, with the thermos yet in her hand, observed a heavily-laden punt approaching.

'Miss Schuster-Slatt and her party. Oh, God! and she says she knows you.'

The poles were firmly driven in at either end of the boat; escape was impossible. Ineluctably the American contingent advanced upon them. They were alongside. Miss Schuster-Slatt was crying out excitedly. It was Harriet's turn to blush for her friends. With incredible coyness Miss Schuster-Slatt apologized for her intrustion, effected introductions, was sure they were terribly in the way, reminded Lord Peter of their former encounter, recognized that he was far too pleasantly occupied to wish to be bothered with her, poured out a flood of alarming enthusiasm about the Propagation of the Fit, again drew strident attention to her own tactlessness, informed Lord Peter that Harriet was a lovely person and just too sympathetic, and favoured each of them with an advance copy of her new questionnaire. Wimsey listened and replied with imperturbable urbanity, while Harriet, wishing that the Isis would flood its banks and drown them all, envied his self-command. When at length Miss Schuster-Slatt removed herself and her party, the treacherous water wafted back her shrill voice from afar:

'Well, girls! Didn't I tell you he was just the perfect English aristocrat?'

At which point the much-tried Wimsey lay down among the tea-cups and became hysterical."

--Gaudy Night by Dorothy L. Sayers, published 1936

A nice, steaming cuppa

My tea of choice -- morning, noon, and night -- is Twinings' English Breakfast.

Pining for spring...

...and it's only January!

"Here Primrose, Cowslips, Roses, Lilies blow
With Violets and Pinks that void perfumes:
Whose beauteous leaves o'erlaid with Honey Dew,
And Chanting birds Chirp out sweet Music true."

--from "Upon Wedlock, and Death of Children" by Edward Taylor, c. 1682

Prokofiev

Click here to listen to the song sample of "No. 37" (on disc two), which is the music that has been waltzing through my head for the past couple of days.

Red geraniums

EvaDress 6690

My mother gave me this pattern for Christmas, as well as some money to buy fabric for it. Last week I bought some beautiful light brown wool with a subtle herringbone weave, and some chocolate brown velvet for the contrasting collar. Once I make a quick mock-up of the skirt, I will be able to get started!

I have wanted a 1930s wool walking suit since my early teens, thanks in part to the television show Jeeves & Wooster.

More from the ice storm

My father took these last Monday. Be sure to click on the photos to enlarge; the detail gets lost in the smaller images.

A favorite passage

"The governess entered.
'Put away your 'pouvoir' now, Kay,' she said. 'It's time for writing lesson. Take a piece of paper and write a nice letter to yourself while I do my books.'
Kay began his letter.

My dear Kay,
I hop you are quite well.
I hop your friends, the cats, are quite well.
I am quite well.
Please give my love to Ellen. I hop she is quite well. We have a nice dog here, but he is norty.

He sucked the end of his pen for a long time, but could think of nothing more to say, except that the norty dog was quite well."

--The Midnight Folk by John Masefield, published 1927

Great-Grandma Irene's recipe box

Excerpt from my current reading

"One of Laura's earliest memories was of her grandfather coming through the gate and up the end house garden in his old-fashioned close-fitting black overcoat and bowler hat, his beard nicely trimmed and shining, with a huge vegetable marrow under his arm. He came every morning and seldom came empty-handed. He would bring a little basket of early raspberries or green peas, already shelled, or a tight little bunch of sweet williams and moss rosebuds, or a baby rabbit, which some one else had given him -- always something. He would come indoors, and if anything in the house was broken, he would mend it, or he would take a stocking out of his pocket and sit down and knit, and all the time he was working he would talk in a kind, gentle voice to his daughter, calling her 'Emmie.' Sometimes she would cry as she told him of her troubles, and he would get up and smooth her hair and wipe her eyes and say, 'That's better! That's better! Now you're going to be my own brave little wench! And remember, my dear, there's One above who knows what's best for us, though we may not see it ourselves at the time.'"

--Lark Rise by Flora Thompson, published 1939

Narcissus

My mom has forced some narcissus bulbs, which just bloomed this past week. Every time I walk into the dining room, I can smell their scent!