November Book List

Twelve books read this month.

Dark Tide Rising is the 24th book in Anne Perry's William Monk series. I continue to enjoy this series.

The Bookshop of Yesterdays by Amy Meyerson is a new author for me. A book about a bookstore is always fun.

The Witch Elm by Tana French. French is one of my new 'must read' authors.

A Forgotten Place by Charles Todd is the 10th book in the Bess Crawford series. This mother-son writing pair is one of my favorites. Love the series set during and after WWI.

Varina is Charles Frazier's latest novel. Frazier is one of my all-time favorite authors. Loved his Cold Mountain and Thirteen Moons. Varina is about the wife of CSA President Jefferson Davis. It is an informative novel of what it was like to be on the South's side during the Civil War. My favorite read this month.

A Distant View of Everything by Alexander McCall Smith is #11 in his Isabel Dalhousie philosphy series. Of all his characters, Isabel Dalhousie is my favorite.

The Dead Ringer by M. C. Beaton is the 29th of the Agatha Raisin detective series. Obviously, I still enjoy reading about Agatha's misadventures.

Four Funerals and Maybe a Wedding by Rhys Bowen is the 12th in Her Royal Spyness series. I really like Rhys Bowen's other series, but was not too crazy about the Lady Georgiana character (Queen Victoria's granddaughter and way down the line [34th] for the throne) when I first started reading the series. She is beginning to grow on me.

The Hanged Man's Song by John Sandford  is one of two Kidd series books at our library. Kidd is a computer expert who makes an appearance in some of Sandford's other series.

Skeletons by Kate Wilhelm a book I had read before but did not recognize it at first. Even then I really didn't remember much about the book but since it is set in Oregon and is a well-written thriller, I went ahead and read it again.

Private Life by Jane Smiley is one of my book sale buys. Smiley's books always seem to me to take a little time to get into, this one was no exception, but they are always worth reading.

The Devil's Code is the other Kidd series book by John Sandford that our library has. This one is heavy duty on the computer hacking capabilities of Kidd and his accomplices. Interesting, but way over my level of understanding. Still, it is Sandford and he does know how to write 'can't put down' thrillers.

I've identified my favorite read this month, but cannot name a least favorite. Seems like it was a month to read continuing series.

Lunch Brings Childhood Memories

Today was a 'sandwich day'. Every other day I fix a 'big' lunch - meat, potatoes, vegies, salad - followed the next day by a 'small' lunch - sandwich, soup, chips, etc.

The sandwich choices seem to rotate around four or five of the same old things. Today, trying to think of something different, I hit upon an old childhood standby - hard fried eggs.

Bud had his with pepper jack cheese and I had mine with mustard. We both agreed they tasted pretty darn good. They also reminded us of our childhoods when we would find fried egg sandwiches in our school lunch sacks.

Eggs were plentiful on our farm, but I don't remember them being a constant school lunch staple. Our sandwiches were usually lunch meat or peanut butter and jelly. The egg sandwiches must have been a fall back for when we were out of the usual fare. In those days, I imagine catsup was the condiment of choice, now I wouldn't dream of anything but mustard!

So, I grew up on a farm and Bud grew up in the small town of Brooks. Both our families were like so many others of that time - poor. Which may explain why some of our childhood memories are so similar.

Our taste in school clothes was even similar.

I bet the old cowboys who populated our make-believe worlds liked fried egg sandwiches for lunch, too.

A Poem On My 75th Birthday

The Journey
  (By Mary Oliver)







One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world, 
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.

"So long as you haven't experienced this:
to die, and so to grow, 
you are only a troubled guest
on the dark earth."
      - Goethe

Longtime News Junkie

From the time I learned to read, I have always followed the news, in the local weekly newspaper and the daily "newspaper Iowa depends upon". (I learned words and read about things my parents probably would have preferred I not know at my tender age - some of which gave me information I did not know how to process.)
When I was ten years old, television came into our home, not replacing the newspapers, but adding another source to feed my inquisitiveness about the world. With the changing times, newspapers have gone by the wayside, even watching the news on TV has taken a back seat. Now, I get up in the morning, sign on to the internet and read all the news I want, world, national, local and via social media.
One change having news at my fingertips engendered in me was an expectation almost every morning, wondering as I signed on, "What new appalling news headline will show up today? Another mass shooting? Or terrorist attack somewhere in the world?"
So, two years ago today, I was not surprised to see the headline: "Two police officers ambushed and killed." "Now, where?" I wondered and was literally shocked to open the story and read it was right here in Iowa.
I tried to write a blog post about my feelings that day - something along the lines of 'not here, not in our Iowa nice, safe, state', but could not get my feelings of horror and sadness expressed the way I wanted to.

Picture credit KCCI TV, Des Moines

So today, on the second anniversary of the senseless slayings of Des Moines police Sgt. Anthony Beminio, a veteran of the department, and Urbandale rookie police Officer Justin Martin, I'm trying and failing again.

There have been too many, so many, mass casualties shootings, attacks, in the past two years it is impossible to even count them. What kind of world are we living in?

Six days later, still feeling the shock and sadness over Iowa's tragedy, I felt the world turn in another looming, more unbelievably direful, direction. Our country had chosen a new president - a misogynistic hate monger whose campaign tactics had already deepened the divide among citizens and opened the doors to even more openly hostile confrontations.

I don't want to say I've become inured to the everyday violences, but I have grown desensitized to them. They seem to be our new norm. Every generation has feared for the futures of its children and grandchildren. I am no different. I don't see how our country can come together for the good of all its people. I don't see how the world can continue much longer without another major war. I hope I'm wrong, just as the generations ahead of me were wrong. Perhaps some UFO's will land and show us the way to another liveable planet. Perhaps the promised messiah will appear to save not just the Jewish nation, but all of us. Perhaps the common man people will rise up and turn our world around in time.

One thing I am fairly certain of is that I won't be here to see what happens. And being the news junkie I am, that is something I'm gonna hate missing.

Old Crone, New Year

This is the image I used a couple years ago on Facebook to wish my friends a "Happy New Year! Samhain Blessings from this old crone." And by 'old crone' I meant me.
The Celtic New Year begins today and today begins my favorite month - birthdays and anniversaries galore. And even though I have been worried about the progress of rehabilitation with my new knee - and feel about as ancient as an old crone - things are progressing apace according to my P-T therapist.

As someone with a November birthday, I've long been aware that I am a Scorpio according to the usual zodiac signs.

It was my niece, Christine, who made me aware of the Irish Celtic Tree Astrology with a tree assigned to each of the 13 lunar months.

Tree lover that I am, I welcome these new, to me, Celtic Zodiac symbols. And while I do not think of a Reed as a tree, I find its explanation interesting.

Reed - The Inquisitor
October 28 - November 24

"Reed signs among the Celtic tree astrology signs are the secret keepers. You dig deep inside to the real meaning of things and discover the truth hidden beneath layers of distraction. When there is a need to get to the heart of the matter, most certainly the Reed sign will find the core. You love a good story and can easily be drawn into gossip, scandals, legend and lore. These tendencies also make you an excellent historian, journalist, detective or archaeologist. You love people because they represent a diversity of meanings for you to interpret. You are adept at coaxing people to talking to you, and sometimes you can be a bit manipulative. However, you have a strong sense of truth and honor so most of your scheming is harmless. Reed people join well with other Reeds, Ash or Oak signs."
Hm-m, might be interesting to compare the Reed explanation with one for Scorpio.

"May you have - Walls for the wind and a roof for the rain and drinks beside the fire. Laughter to cheer you and those you love near you, and all that your heart may desire." (Traditional Celtic Blessing)

Best wishes for a Happy New Year. ♏🌳

October Book List

Ten books read in October.

The Sense Of An Ending by Julian Barnes I think I put Barnes on my list after reading a review about his book The Only Story. That one wasn't available at the library, but his Man Booker Prize winner was. It took me a couple tries to get into the story - one that makes you contemplate one's own life.

A Thousand Mornings by Mary Oliver  I have come to appreciate Oliver's poetry. This is the only volume our library presently has.

Plum Tree Crazy is the 19th in Laura Childs' Tea Shop Mystery series.

Finding Colin Firth by Mia March is a fun and heart-warming little story about three fans all hoping to meet Colin Firth when he comes to a small seaside town in Maine to film some scenes for a movie. (Hint: It is more about the three womens' lives than his.)

The Jury Master by Robert Dugoni Another new to me author and I don't remember where I saw his name. The story was okay once I got past the author's need to use as many metaphors as possible - 99% of which were bad and unnecessary. I almost gave up reading the book because of them.

Golden Prey and Twisted Prey by John Sandford are #'s 27 and 28 in his Lucas Davenport series. I am now caught up until his next one is published. By the way, Sandford knows how and when to use metaphors.

The last three of the ten read this month are ones I bought at the book sale so I didn't have to worry about getting books back to the library during my knee surgery and recuperation.

Jack Maggs by Peter Carey I got because I really want to read his book Oscar and Lucinda. Failing to find a copy of it, I decided to try the only book of his that I found. It took some getting into - a strange tale.

Sweet Thunder was one of Ivan Doig's final books. Doig has long been a favorite author of mine and while I enjoyed his earlier books more than the later ones, they have all provided some fine reading. Sweet Thunder is set in Butte, Montana in 1920 during the time when the great Anaconda Copper Mining Company ruled the town, the miners and most of the state.

A Shooting Star is one of Wallace Stegner's older novels, but one I hadn't read before. Stegner is another long time favorite author. I could not identify with the main character, a woman who has had everything her whole life, but is dissatisfied because her life has no purpose, no meaning. I kept thinking, "With all your money, influence, looks, etc. etc., you can surely find some way of helping those less fortunate." But her whole thing seemed to be about ruining the life she had and crying, 'poor me'.
Still, Stegner's fine writing and beautiful prose kept me reading even if I did think his protaganist was a self-obsessed neurotic.

An example of one of his passages: "He stood looking, and some tick of time went past - a moment or a thousand years - and he squeezed his tired eyes shut and looked again, and the night hung silent around him, the invisible silver was still falling, the moon was already lower."

Happy Halloween

The One World We All Belong To

Poem of the One World 
by Jane Oliver (From her book,
A Thousand Mornings)

this morning
the beautiful white heron
was floating along above the water

and then into the sky of this
the one world
we all belong to

where everything
sooner or later
is a part of everything else

which thought made me feel
for a little while
quite beautiful myself.

Even though it wasn't 'floating along above the water', I was lucky enough to see and photograph this white heron when it visited briefly two weeks ago.

Would that we all could feel, for a little while, quite beautiful.

Would that in our one world, we all could feel a part of everything else.