Category Archives: books

A song for a journey.

Anke Eismann, Bilbo Baggins

Today is Hobbit Day, that is, the birthday of both Bilbo and Frodo Baggins. Maybe next year I will manage to have a party in their honor. I only thought of it a week in advance this year, and that’s not enough time. Besides, Monday is not the best day for a party.

Has any of you, my readers, ever hosted or attended an event on Tolkien’s birthday or that of his hobbit characters? We had one at our house on January 3rd (Tolkien’s birthday) a long time ago, and it was a lot of fun. But this year, I’ll just post this song (with a musical link below it) from the tale of hobbits and their adventure:

MISTY MOUNTAINS

Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold; where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night.
The fire was red, it flaming spread;
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale
And men looked up with faces pale;
Then dragon’s ire more fierce than fire
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon;
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled their hall, to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the misty mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!

I like the YouTube video of Clamavi De Profundis singing “Misty Mountains”, an expanded-version cover of the original soundtrack of “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.” The song comes from the chapter “An Unexpected Party” of The Hobbit, and this group adds verses from later in the book. It’s not a poem I am likely to memorize, but the tune I can’t get out of my head. That’s okay. Its mood seems to be in harmony with my own daily paths:

The King is come unto his hall
Under the Mountain dark and tall.
The Worm of Dread is slain and dead,
And ever so our foes shall fall!

Ivan Aivazovsky, Darial Gorge

 

The pages turn you.

YOU TURN THE PAGE

André Derain

“Whenever I see someone reading a book . . . I feel civilization has become a little safer.” Matt Haig, How to Stop Time

You turn the page because you have to know—
because the youthful wizard is in trouble,
because the wife’s about to pack and go,
because you just like living in this bubble
of graceful prose and other people’s ills
and joys, because turning the pages makes
you see things from a new perspective, fills
your mind with more than you, and maybe breaks
your heart or your routine, or breaks apart
what’s rusted shut, or else draws a connection
where you thought there was none. And once you start,
the pages lead you to the intersection
of art and life and your own empathy;
the pages turn you toward humanity.

-Jean L. Kreiling

Jean Kreiling expresses so many of the reasons that we love to read — Did she leave anything out? I do like very much — often, but not constantly! — living in this bubble of graceful prose, even when the bubble doesn’t contain other peoples’ ills and joys. I hope my reading is doing all the positive things the poet sees. I read this poem Sunday afternoon to eleven fellow readers, when our parish women’s book group met on my patio and enjoyed our usual lively discussion of such pleasures. I’m also keeping it tucked in my purse to share with any friend or stranger I might meet, anytime our conversation turns to our latest favorite books.

Peter Kauflin, Once Upon a Time

Grandchildren are growing up.

I recently had two of my grandchildren staying with me for nearly a week. Most of the days and nights I had either Ivy or Jamie, but one day and night in the middle of the span I got both of them together. It was the first time we’ve had so much one-on-one time in a short period, and now that they are 10 and almost 13 years old, our options for how we spend our hours are expansive. We never ran out of books to read together, music to listen to, or things to talk about — including those books, and the music.

For example, Jamie and I listened to The Story of Beowulf, and The Eagle of the Ninth; sometimes he drew pictures while listening. Ivy played her favorite U2 songs for me, and I showed her videos of her late Grandpa Glad singing — she was only two when he passed.

We took many walks near and far, and shopped and cooked together, making lemon curd, boba tea, Greek tzatziki, and plum cobbler.

Stirring tzatziki.
Chai boba tea

They both helped me in my big project of removing gravel from the plot where I’m going to plant my new manzanita McMinn. And the day we were all three together, we went to the beach, where it was overcast and 60 degrees all afternoon.

Greater Moon Jelly with sandy great toe for perspective.

Twice Ivy and I walked as far as the library and on to the grocery store, and with Jamie I went on a long lake stroll for which we drove a half hour to the trailhead. They both liked just rambling along the nearby creek almost daily, and remembering all the times they have done that before. Jamie wanted to find the rope swing that has been down there “forever,” but we never found it, and on the way back when we saw my neighbor watering his garden, he told us that the city always takes it down, and someone always puts it back up, but no one has put it up again for a few years.

We visited my friends and their chickens, went to church, painted, did housework together — and played Bananagrams more than once.

Ivy’s winning board

One thing we didn’t do was sleep overmuch. School does not start for them until after Labor Day, so they can catch up over the next couple of weeks. I don’t feel bad about neglecting sleep, as we were taking advantage of our unhurried and summery time together, which will never come again. It was restful to our souls.

A May afternoon with friends.

cistus

After church on Sunday I had twelve friends over for a little party. Half of them were children under ten, and all of those had been in my house before; they fell to right away playing with my dress-up clothes, dolls, and matchbox cars. At one point the squirming baby let me remove her to the armchair in the play area where we read a couple of stories together, so that in the other room her mother might drink tea with both hands.

dwarf pomegranate and helianthemum

The weather had warmed up just enough between Saturday and Sunday to make it pleasant for eating outside, and for the children to enjoy organizing the playhouse. I had spent more time cleaning that little hut in preparation than I did the real house — but I still have not sewn new curtains for its window, in these ten years since it became mine.

May is in many ways the perfect month for a garden party, because of the variety of blooms — and what a joy to have other people soaking up the beauty with me. This spring, since I “lifted the skirt” on the pomegranates, the orange helianthemums are bursting with more flowers than ever before; the wisteria is in its prime, and the bees are buzzing all over it. The snowballs on the viburnum are at their best. And we have the possibility of temperate and sunny afternoons. I always think it should be easy to host more such gatherings, but just finding a date that works for everyone takes a lot of effort; in this case I’d begun that process seven weeks ahead.

snowball bush

I’d started planning the menu, too — it needed to be items that wouldn’t need fussing over that day. One thing I made the evening before was this favorite quinoa salad that is tweakable to what one has on hand, which I found on the New York Times cooking site. I am unlocking the recipe for you, and you can access it through the link: Quinoa and Broccoli Spoon Salad.

A warning about the quantity of salad that came from one of the cooks who joked about it supposedly serving 4-6: “…it serves 4 to 6 distance swimmers during an Olympic training camp.” I used two cups of quinoa and ended up with plenty left over for my guests to take home plus more than I can eat staying here. I don’t like mustard so I left that out, and I used dried California cherries instead of cranberries, toasted walnuts instead of pecans. I like these NYT recipes because the cooks who try them share things they learned when making them according to the original instructions, or after they alter various ingredients or procedures.

figs in the fall

Few people like raw broccoli, but as I have learned and other cooks testified, the dressing in this dish quickly marinates the small pieces of broccoli and removes the unpleasant rawness, while retaining a little crispness.

In an effort to use up foods from my freezer and pantry, I made one dessert using plums from my trees that I’d put by last summer, and another dessert using figs that I had tried freezing raw for the first time. Both worked well and were heartily eaten. Plum and Cream Scone Cobbler from Smitten Kitchen I’ve made before with peaches, but this time I had enough plums to use them.

It was delicious, but I will change some things if I make it again. The scones that make the cobbler topping are just too rich, with a whole stick of butter and a cup of cream in the dough. At least, they are too rich combined with the amount of fruit called for. Maybe I would decrease the butter by half next time, and use at least 50% more fruit. (Ha! I see that last time I made it I told myself to make those very changes next time, and forgot.) I also seem to have cut my scones too large…

My guests and I didn’t only talk about books over the course of our leisurely afternoon, but many book titles popped up in our conversation, more than I even know about. A few that I can recall just from our last hour together were: The Ethics of Beauty; St. Ephrem the Syrian: Hymns On Paradise; The Hidden Rainbow; Christ the Conqueror of Hell; The Little Liar; and Orthodoxy and the Religion of the Future.

At one point I ran upstairs to get this book to show the others, my latest deep read. They all had a good laugh with me. It’s not just goofy, but is actually a very thought-provoking book! Maybe I will tell about here it sometime: How to Talk About Books You Haven’t Read. I do a lot of that already, but I’m sure there’s room for improving my skills.

Usually when children play in the playhouse, they like to prepare salads or other halfway-pretend dishes made of all the edibles I give them permission to pick from the garden, including flowers as well as vegetables.

collard flowers

I meant to point my younger guests to my exuberantly flowering kale, parsley and who-knows-what in the planter boxes I am not cultivating right now, but I never got around to it. After everyone had gone home I checked out the back garden to see if there was the sort of happy mess I’m used to in and around the playhouse. There was no evidence that anyone had done any “cooking,” but rather a lot of setting in order, with the dish soap by the sink and a lavish bouquet completing the scene. It was symbolic of all that I had received from my guests who gave me an afternoon in spring.