Yesterday was dark and rainy--really dark--as the remnants of hurricane Florence moved up the coast. I was glad for the rain, because now I don't have to water my plants for at least a few days.

I drank lots of tea and finished reading The Forbidden Place by Susanne Jansson--so good! A spooky novel that is far more than just a story. So much to think about and record in my notebook.
 

Do you make these "Apple Babies" on autumn days? Peel and cut two apples into eighths. Cut crescent dough triangles (the refrigerator rolls) into two long triangles each and roll each triangle around an apple slice. Place in pan and drizzle half a stick of butter over all. Generously sprinkle with cinnamon sugar. Pour a 1/4 cup of apple cider or orange juice in spaces around pan (not over the top of the apples/dough). Bake at 350°F for 25 minutes. They are too easy and addicting. 

September is the month for rose bouquets at my house. My rose bushes always go crazy in September--wild and huge and producing continuous blooms. I cut at least a dozen stems a week.

The September sky can be darkly moody or so blue and bright that it leaves me breathless. I love the sky so much.

 The days are growing shorter, the nights cooler. The in-drawing-cozy-time has come.

 

 

I have taken out this cardigan project I started last spring. I am only knitting on it a little each evening, but maybe I will finish it this fall. The color of the wool doesn't photograph well. It is a true moss green.

These two never stop making me smile.

 Zach stringing-up. Always there is music at my house ♪

I have said before that I think Presley is really a prince in a dog suit. Look at those eyes. So much love and kindness for everyone. Except for when the skunk sprayed him in the face a few weeks ago. He was all dog then.

 I can't remember the last time I watched television. I watch the birds and animals instead.

 Look closely now:

 And look who is watching from the fence!


Leaf fall has begun.The leaves are just beginning to lose their chlorophyll.

The pond is splendid with purple loosestrife, orange jewel weed, goldenrod, misty mauve love grass, and wild aster.

It has taken me awhile to get going, but we have finally started back to our home school lessons this week. I think it is the latest we have ever started. But, better late than never, right?   

Love and roses,
Sue

Summer Journal: In My Own Backyard

I'm so happy to see my old friends have found me here! I'm sorry it has taken me a few days to reply to your lovely comments. We went away for the weekend to attend my niece's bridal shower, and I thought I would have more time before we left.

For as long as we have lived in this house--twenty years!--red squirrels have been living in our backyard. They are feisty, territorial creatures. I do love them!

Hummingbirds are feisty, territorial creatures, too, yet so delicate and fairy-like.

I planted five new English roses this year, bringing my rose count up to fourteen bushes! This one is Lady of Shalott:

One of my favorite roses is a beautiful salmon pink one called Boscobel. At first, her blossoms were so pale that I thought David Austin had sent me the wrong rose. She has grown a lot since I took this photo earlier in the season:

 The rose below is the Ambridge Rose. A camera really can't capture her ethereal beauty:

Hanging from a low branch on the pear tree across the street from my house is a basketball-sized, papery nest of a bald-faced hornet colony. Today, the Animal Warden stopped by. He parked his truck in front of the nest, rolled down his window, aimed a can of spray at it (briefly), and drove off.  I think the wasps laughed. I know I did.

Munstead Wood is a deep, dark, crimson rose with incomparable form and scent.

My neighbors down the lane planted two apple trees in their side yard when they bought their house. Those neighbors moved out a couple of years ago and new neighbors moved in. This year, for some reason or another, the new neighbors decided to remove one of the trees. It is sad, because the trees were so vibrant and healthy. Now the tree that is left is dying, we think of a broken heart. Many people don't realize that trees are communal creatures.

Our kittens Rhys and Wyatt are getting  B I G.

Wyatt goes by many different nicknames: Lightning, Stripes McGee, and Ricky Raccoon.

Over the weekend, we got to visit Rhys and Wyatt's sister Miss P (my sis-in-law's kitty). Do you see the family resemblance?  Her eyes are amber like Rhys's and her coloring is a blend of both brothers. All of them have pink noses, and white mittens and shirts.

"The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last for ever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year – the days when summer is changing into autumn – the crickets spread the rumor of sadness and change."~ Charlotte's Web by E.B. White

We are in those days now. I am savoring each one of them, although I know 'nothing gold can stay'. ♥

Love and roses,
Sue

Do you know this flowering shrub? It grows wild in one spot near the pond, or at least it is wild now, although someone may have planted it long ago. It has the most heavenly fragrance. I believe it is called 'summersweet', but I am not certain.
                                                                                                                                                                     

 Someone left this lovely painted stone on one of the trail markers. We were so happy to see it.

 My front door.  Welcome! ♥

New England spider cake (recipe below).

This morning, a baby cardinal came to our garden and inspected the feeder.

It was a mostly quiet week which was just lovely. We've had a lot of out-of-town company this summer, with more on the way, so it was nice to have time to potter around the garden and walk in the woods and read and just be.

A couple of weeks ago when I was in Gloucester, I found the slim paperback book pictured above. It is a historical novella called Moss on Stone about Susannah Norwood Torrey who lived on Cape Ann in Rockport during the 19th century. The novella incorporates excerpts from a diary Susannah kept early in her marriage and reads like a memoir. I feel I owe a debt to the author Sandra Williams for introducing me to Susannah. In 'Susa' I have found someone very kindred to myself. The book is a lovely, lovely volume with beautiful illustrations by the author's artist husband, and though it is not an exciting book or a particularly compelling tale, it captures the spirit of a person and place that have captivated me. You can read more about Moss on Stone here.

In the book, Susannah and her husband make a New England spider cake for supper one evening. I had never heard of spider cake. I found a recipe for it here and made it for breakfast yesterday. It is made with cornmeal but does not have the same texture as cornbread. It reminds me of Clafoutis. It was quite good with maple syrup, but I think it would be excellent with fruit preserves, as well.

 New England Spider Cake

Preheat oven to 350°F.
Combine 4 teaspoons of white vinegar in two cups of milk and set aside to sour (it helps to warm the milk slightly first).
In a separate bowl, combine 1 cup of yellow cornmeal, 3/4 cup all purpose flour, 3/4 cup sugar, and 1/2 teaspoon baking soda.
Whisk two eggs into the soured milk. Mix into dry ingredients and set batter aside.
Melt 2 tablespoons butter in a 12 inch cast-iron skillet (I used a regular oven proof skillet). Pour in the batter. Pour 1 cup of heavy cream into the center of the batter. Slide skillet into oven and bake for 40 to 45 minutes or until top is set and golden. Slice into wedges and serve warm with maple syrup or fruit preserves. 

♥

 I am surrounded by summer green even in the house. : )

 Look what I found at the flea market this week! A very nice on-canvas reproduction of Van Gogh's Café Terrace at Night for five dollars! I love it--it's my favorite find this season.

I re-upholstered my old desk chair last weekend with a puppies print. Do you see the pugs? 

 

I also recently re-purposed the old glass-fronted bookcase in my dining room to display my head vase collection (all flea market finds!) and a few of the pieces from my tea set, too. The bottom shelves hold my nature treasures: shells, feathers, fossils, a butterfly wing, &c.

 

This is Mustead Wood aka Baby Groot.--my other Mother's Day English rose. Someone was eating all of his new leaves for a while, and I really worried he wouldn't make it. Then we rigged up a little wire fence to put around him. Now he's thriving, but he's very small. I hope he still has enough time to grow. The color of his first blossoms is not as deep as I expected, but hopefully it will change as the plant matures. Also, it's quite hot out which definitely impacts rose color. The blossoms of my pale pink "Falling in Love" hybrid tea are nearly white. 

A great book and delicious lunch. I just finished reading Station Eleven yesterday. I know some of you have read this book, too, and I would love to know your thoughts about it. The story is set in a dystopian future a few years after the collapse of civilization. It is a book about memory and loss and art and connection--what it is that makes us human. A couple of years ago I read Laurus by Russian author Eugene Vodolazkin. That book was set in an indeterminate time period which, I realized as I was reading Station Eleven, might have been the future, although it had a distinctly medieval quality to it.  Vodolazkin wrote Laurus to show what is absent from our modern lives that was essential before: a wholeness in human experience with no separation between natural and supernatural awareness. This contrasts sharply with Station Eleven which removes the trappings of modern civilization to show us the meaning the civilized world imbues to our lives. It portrays religion as dangerous incoherency adhered to by the coercive, the weak, the deranged, and the deadly. Station Eleven speaks eloquently about the bonds people form with other people, with objects, with place, with animals, and with time.  (Interestingly, the word 'religion' is from the Latin 'religio', meaning:  obligation, bond, reverence; and 'religare' meaning "to bind".)  The book has given me a lot to ponder, and I don't think I will easily forget it. I have already recommended it to a few people. But, if I had to choose between re-reading Laurus or Station Eleven, I would pick Laurus.

The new study is becoming everyone's favorite room. Someone is always on the daybed. :)

 It doesn't hurt that it is the coolest room in the house.

This iced ruby rose tea is my summertime favorite: spearmint, lemon balm, hibiscus flowers, dried orange, rose petals, and clove. Mmmmmm.

I love roses best, but really, geraniums are star bloomers, aren't they? I just love them. 

-------------♥-------------

Have you seen this? What a joke! Every number in that budget is below reality except the net income, which is more than it should be (they didn't account for state income taxes, and I'm not certain that they deducted Social Security and Medicare either). The other evening the kids and I watched 12 Angry Men--the old 1957 classic film starring Henry Fonda. (It was amazing how much it mirrored my own experience as a juror!) There was a line in it  that really got to me. One of the characters--a salesman played by Jack Warden-- brags to Henry Fonda that he made $27,000 last year selling marmalade. "Not too bad for marmalade," he said.  I should say not, considering that was a fortune sixty years ago. Today, however, it is a pittance. My daughter earns nearly double the federal hourly minimum wage and works 35+ hours a week, and yet she did not make that much last year. When I think of all of the problems that affect society, including race and gender inequality, I can see that much of it comes down to economics. In the mid-nineteenth century Irish were considered scum in this country. They lived in slums and were widely discriminated against. The same was true for Italian, Polish, German, and Jewish immigrants, as well. These groups are now privileged "white people". That's the power of money. Racisim is real, but the deep root of the problem is not primarily skin color, it's poverty. We hate the poor. Even if we donate to the local food bank and give clothes and money to organizations that help, we don't see poor people as "good as us". We don't live near them, and we don't make friends with them. 

Presley had a birthday yesterday--he's three! And still acts like a puppy. The girls and I think Presley is actually a prince who was bewitched and trapped in a dog suit. He has such soulful, knowing eyes. We are sure he understands everything we say. ♥