Part of the current pile

An Intimate Look at the Night Sky
by Chet Raymo

"It is breathtaking simply to be here," wrote the poet Rainer Maria Rilke. Breathtaking to stand under a starry sky and look deeply into the universe of galaxies. Breathtaking to participate in the constantly changing drama of the night sky. Star watching at its best is a total experience, involving all of the senses - the sights, sounds, tastes, smells, and tactile sensations of the night. It is this complete immersion into darkness and light, informed by knowledge, open to mystery, that renews our intimacy with the cosmos.

Thank you, . Nothing like getting rid of books I don't want and getting a beautiful hardcover book like this.



An Irish Country Doctor by Patrick Taylor

"What'll it be?" O'Reilly stood at a sideboard that bore cut-glass decanters and ranks of glasses.

"Small sherry, please." Barry sat in a big armchair. O'Reilly's upstairs sitting room was comfortably furnished. Three Milliken watercolours of game birds adorned the wall over a wide fireplace. Two walls were hidden by floor-to-ceiling bookcases. From Barry's quick appraisal of the titles - from Plato's Republic, Caesar's De Bello Gallica, Winnie-The-Pooh and its Latin translation Winnie Ille Pu, to the collected works of Somerset Maugham, Graham Greene, John Steinbeck, Ernest Hemingway, and Leslie Charteris's The Saint books - O'Reilly's reading tastes were wide ranging.

Old doctor trains new doctor. Definite reminders of James Harriot and Sigfried, with people instead of animals. You must be able to tolerate a helping of salty language to be able to relax and enjoy this.



Mudhouse Sabbath: An Invitation to a Life of Spiritual Discipline by Lauren Winner

It is now going on seven years since I converted from Judaism to Christianity, and I am still in that blissed-out newlywed stage in which you can't believe your good fortune and you know that this person (in this case Jesus) whom you have chosen (or, in this case, who has chosen you) is the best person on the whole planet and you wouldn't take all the tea in China or a winning Lotto ticket or even a nice country estate in exchange.

Still, I miss my Jewish ways. I miss the rhythms and routines that drew the sacred down into the everyday. I miss Sabbaths on which I actually rested....

This is a book about those things I miss. It is about Sabbaths and weddings and burials and prayers, rituals Jews and Christians both observe...It is, to be blunt, about spiritual practices that Jews do better. It is, to be blunter, about Christian practices that would be enriched, that would be thicker and more vibrant, if we took a few lessons from Judaism.

I've heard about Lauren Winner's writing for years, and often find her articles in Books and Culture to be favorites, but I just started reading her books. Girl Meets God was terrific, so I searched out a copy of Mudhouse Sabbath to add to my reading pile. I am not disappointed. Intense and thoughtful, Winner writes like someone I would love to meet at the Mudhouse for lattes and conversation that I am sure would make me laugh and make me squirm.

The little red bench

"If I sit for a while, then my impatience, crossness, frustration, are indeed annihilated, and my sense of humor returns." ~ Madeleine L'Engle

With the passing of each year, I have waved farewell to a bit more of my extroverted self. Perhaps with five children and a communicative husband, it is more that my extroversion is now used up in the privacy of my own home. But even at home, amidst these interesting and complex individuals, I find the need to break away for some daily quiet. We have a small house, so over the years I have sat on the broken steps in the garden, leaned back in a camping chair in the corner of the driveway under the inky night sky, or grabbed my camera and tromped in the woods to find new foliage to photograph all.by.myself.

Now I have the perfect spot, just outside my bright red front door. In my search through thrift stores, I came upon a little bench. A little red bench. I walked up as the proprieter unloaded it out of his pick-up truck, and I knew right where I would put it. On the front door deck, by the ivy, and I could even picture it with garden boots or camo helmets tucked underneath.

With a view of the sunset at night, or the glow on the valley across the way in the morning, it is my place to sit and be quiet. You see, if I don't find time to be quiet, my life no longer makes sense, and the noise around me builds to a cacophony. I need to sort out my thoughts, to regain my purpose in order to live an intentional life. I might read or pray or think, but sometimes I need to rest first. Like dirt settling in a glass of water, the clutter in my mind sinks and things begin to clear. Then the prayers of my heart can rise, and I can return to the busy life inside the red door.

"The shadows are deepening all around us. Now is the time when we must begin to see our world and ourselves in a different way." Madeleine L'Engle

My little red bench is where I begin to see in a different way.


A Circle of Quiet by Madeleine L'Engle

Here we go

Saturday was the beginning of our sons' first year of debate competition. This year's resolution is:

Resolved: That the United States federal government should substantially change its policy on illegal immigration. ~ NCFCA

They are researching both sides of the issues. They are learning about border fences, impacts on the economy, anchor babies, rights and privileges of citizenship, impacts on social services and hospitals, and much, much more.

I am learning about debate lingo in order to be a helpful and fair judge, how to provide meals for starving debaters without over-spending the budget, how to shop thrift stores for Italian suits, and how to influence my sons on their choice of ties. I am very opinionated about ties. So are they. We'll see who wins that debate.

I loved sitting back at the end of the day, camera in hand, and catching the faces of these students. I have no idea what the future holds for my sons, or for any of their debating friends, but I am so pleased with the skills they are learning this year. And it has only just begun.

The Great Truffle Give-Away

And the winner is:

Christine!

I've emailed her.
I've bought the piles of chocolate and cream and extracts.
The chocolatier is open.

Thanks to everyone for joining the fun. I now know that if one wants to boost interest, offer chocolate. I had NO idea I would be picking from so many names.

Just to say thanks

The Fall, Y'all bloggy giveaway is happening this week, and I decided to join the fun. After all, many of you have faithfully clicked on my blog over the last few months and found absolutely.nothing.changed for days and weeks at a time. Now that I am back in the swing of things, I looked over my site meter stats; I really cannot believe that so many of you kept checking in. THANKS!

So, I am going to give away a DOZEN homemade truffles. Yes, chocolate truffles. Yes, homemade. Want to see a picture of previous batches? Yeah, me, too:

Want to see the recipe? Click here. We will be making them on Monday and will mail them on Tuesday to the lucky winner. I think I better limit this offer to the United States readers, though. Melissa, I think those truffles wouldn't be worth much by the time they reached Jordan *smile*

Hmmmm, what could I offer an international winner? How about a dozen home-made cards? They will have either a photograph or stenciling design that I created, or drawing or calligraphy that my daughter made. They won't be specific to any season or celebration; they'll just be year-round useful. And beautiful, of course.

To be entered into the drawing, all you need to do is email me and let me know you are joining the fun. My contact information can be found on the sidebar. Please specify if you are a U.S. reader or an international reader, and we will draw the fortunate winner on Sunday, November 4th. I will announce the winner Monday morning, November 5th, and I will ask for the winner's mailing information at that time.

To see the l-o-n-g list of other give-aways, click here.

November

"The season of colds, which ran all the way through to the end of February, started in November, when the magical, golden enchantment of autumn days (the wine of the seasons, when the year held its breath at the approach of frost and fire) turned into the raw damp of the backend of the year, clogging leaves packed underfoot and chilling fog pervading everything. If I had to draw a picture of November, I think I would draw an old man in a grey macintosh, blowing his nose. Even the smoky delights of fireworks and baked potatoes on bonfire night do no more than hold off the depression of those creeping fingers of darkness and cold."

The Hawk and the Dove by Penelope Wilcock

For two people who absolutely LOVE November, this is a strange quote to choose as a favorite. I think it is the "wine of the seasons" comment that charms me. My daughter says that Wilcock is describing November so vividly, and that we love those qualities that she finds depressing. Of course, we live in Northern California, and this book is based in wet, cold England. We spend the broiling months of July and August dreaming of the "creeping fingers of darkness and cold." Every autumn I breathe a sigh of relief and contentment.