Being too warm the old lady said to me is better than being too cold I think now in between is the best because you never give it a thought but it goes by too fast I remember the winter how cold it got I could never get warm wherever I was but I don’t remember the summer heat like that only the long days the breathing of the trees the evenings with the hens still talking in the lane and the light getting longer in the valley the sound of a bell from down there somewhere I can sit here now still listening to it.
I’m still enjoying the afterglow of having Pearl and her daughter Maggie here for a couple of days last week. Just we three, three generations, happy to be together, however briefly. I don’t think I mentioned at the time that Maggie came by herself for two nights last May; on her way home from college she stopped here.
This time they were headed back in the other direction. We shopped a little bit for things she’ll need in her dorm suite, and Maggie took her car for an oil change. We cooked a lot, and it is so fun to cook with helpers who go on to appreciate everything on the table. Other times, Pearl very wisely suggested sitting outdoors with our tea or whatever, and there is nothing like being in the garden with people I love.
One afternoon Maggie told us mysteriously that she was going to run a quick errand, and when she came back she was bringing three It’s It ice cream sandwiches. It seems these treats aren’t available except in California.
The weather was fairly warm, but Maggie and Pearl had come from a hotter and more humid Wisconsin, so no one was bothered much. We ate the goodies on the patio, at dusk. It typically cools off here even before the sun sets, so to be gifted a rare balmy evening, coordinated perfectly with our desire to sit out in the most leisurely way — that was the icing on the cake, or the ice cream between the oatmeal cookies.
There had been cake, too, which I’d baked beforehand in honor of both their birthdays, belatedly. I used a Lemon Buttermilk Sheet Cake recipe from America’s Test Kitchen, which I found on someone else’s site, and changed just a little bit. It used the zest and juice of three whole lemons, and was the best lemon cake I’ve ever eaten. I forgot to take a picture, and I sent the leftovers along with Maggie.
Maggie got the idea to make lavender lemonade: She used several lemons from my tree, and dried lavender flowers I had sitting on the kitchen counter. It was just the right amount of sugar, and the nicest accent of lavender — yum! I sent her back to school with a few more lemons, and a lavender plant in a pot, for her balcony. So it was a pretty lemony visit all around, with plenty of sweetness to bring out the flavor.
Joaquin Sorolla, My Wife and Daughters in the Garden
The beauty of nature is suspect. Oh yes, the splendor of flowers. Science is concerned to deprive us of illusions. Though why it is eager to do so is unclear. The battles among genes, traits that secure success, gains and losses. My God, what language these people speak In their white coats. Charles Darwin At least had pangs of conscience Making public a theory that was, as he said, devilish. And they? It was, after all, their idea: To segregate rats in separate cages. To separate humans, write off as a genetic loss Some of their own species and poison them. “The pride of the peacock is the glory of God,” Wrote William Blake. There was a time When disinterested beauty by its sheer superabundance Gratified our eyes. What have they left us? Only the accountancy of a capitalist enterprise.
“Well, trials are the portion of mankind, and gardeners have their share, and in any case it is better to be tried by plants than persons, seeing that with plants you know that it is you who are in the wrong, and with persons it is always the other way about—and who is there among us who has not felt the pangs of injured innocence, and known them to be grievous?”
― Elizabeth von Arnim, Elizabeth and Her German Garden