Saturday it was sunny and 96°. Sunday it was overcast all day and  never got above 60°-- it was so nice to open the windows and let the house breathe in all that green-scented cool air. The birds and chipmunks and squirrels seemed especially happy and active.

 

I got up at five o'clock yesterday morning and went to the flea market with Amy, Seth, and my husband. We were cold even wearing our sweatshirts. Some people had on down coats (smart!). We came home with some wonderful treasures this time (most weeks I don't buy anything at all). I picked up a summery painting to hang above the living room bureau (I'll show it to you another time); Amy found a little wooden night-stand to put next to her bed, and a pair of adorable cat salt and pepper shakers (she collects them); and Seth bought some old records and a couple of vintage postcards of our town for his collections. It was a fun morning. 

In the afternoon we went to see "Captain America: Civil War". We're big fans of Marvel's "Shield" story line. We've seen all the Captain America movies and we watch both "Agent Carter" and "Marvel's Agents of Shield" on television. There are strong Christian overtones (not undertones) to these movies and television series. They are about making right moral choices in the face of adversity--even when it means disappointing everyone you know or even facing death. And they are about protecting life and the innocent and not tolerating evil.

This is Elvis's meditation spot. He loves to sit here and watch the bird feeder through the sliding glass door.  He reminds me of a little Buddha. Or a peaceful space alien. But, he's definitely not a dog. All pug owners  agree: pugs are something else. We're just not sure what.

My meditation spot is the dining room table. That is where I sit and read and pray and watch the birds through the window. 

The other day I came across this familiar quote:  

❀ All the flowers of all the tomorrows are in the seeds of today. ❀

And that made me think of the "Promised Seed" (Christ) who came and fell to the ground to become the "first fruit of many" who would also fall to the ground and then be raised up to life. Suffering is essential--there cannot be life without it. Yet who doesn't do everything in her power to avoid it? It is in suffering that we become Life and so can give life. I like this quote from Richard Rohr's book Falling Upward: 

Inside of life energy, a group or family will be productive and energetic; inside of death energy there will be gossip, cynicism, and mistrust hiding behind every interaction. Yet you usually cannot put your finger precisely on what is happening.

We're either giving life or we're destroying it. To give life, one must do just that: give her life.  That, folks, cannot be done without a good bit of suffering. 

But, cake helps everyone, doesn't it?  

This is another one of Jen's scrumptious recipes. I've adapted it for my American readers. If you prefer  European baking measurements, please see Jen's original post.

   Lemon Yogurt Cake with Cherries:

Oven: 350° F

Ingredients for Cake:
2 1/3 cups all purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 and 1/3 stick of butter
6 oz. lemon yogurt
1 cup of pourable brown sugar (Domino sells this in a plastic bottle)
3 large free-range eggs
zest of 1 lemon
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
Cherries: stems removed, stoned, and quartered (enough for about 1 cup). Coat with flour so they won't sink to bottom of batter.

Melt butter and allow to cool. Mix flour and baking powder and set aside. In a large bowl mix butter, sugar, yogurt, eggs, and vanilla until combined. Gently mix in flour. Fold in cherries. Pour into greased 2 lb. loaf pan and bake for about 1 hour or until a skewer inserted into center of cake comes out clean. Cool in pan for 15 minutes. Remove from pan and cool completely on wire rack.

Ingredients for Frosting:
6 tablespoons of softened butter
1 1/2 cups icing sugar
2 tablespoons of lemon curd
1 tablespoon of milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Beat butter until pale and fluffy. Add sugar and beat well. Then add lemon curd, milk, and vanilla and beat until fluffy. Spread on cooled cake.

♥♥♥

On Sunday morning, my boys went to the flea market. It was too cold for me to go, so I pottered around at home and went to Mass. The day was quite breezy, and Zach found an old piece of paper flying around the parking lot. It must have blown off one of the vendor's tables, but as there was no way of locating its rightful owner, Zach brought it home to me.

The paper is thin and deckle-edged, and it appears to be the second sheet of an old  letter written on both sides. I am captivated and intrigued by the letter and its writer--this is a real glimpse into someone's personal experience during WWII, I believe. I will transcribe it for you here as best I can:

        I do hate wasting time in bed. I've decided I won't go into politics as I once thought perhaps I would. I've thought it over and decided I'm too honest to hold down anything if I got it. However - I would like to do something besides come out next year. I'd like to work awfully hard at something. Hard enough to get tired. It might also be rather a nice idea to make some money. That reminds me - thanks for the check. I'm going to cash it in register/(?) in Austria when I go there next weekend.
        There are very few people here who are either English or American. I'm quite glad. The University doesn't open till sometime in November + then quite a few come. Think what I'll miss by going to Paris. We're staying in Paris only two weeks now - then we're going to London to visit Lady Hamilton + the Reids for a couple of weeks. By that time Evelyn will start home + I'll come back to Munich. I rather expect we'll be here until about January - when we go to Spain. A couple of other girls have thought of joining us but I doubt very much if they do. I hope not anyway. I've wanted to write a little on this trip but I just haven't had a chance to be alone for one minute. Now + then I do nip off to the Englischer Garten but I don't dare sit for a minute - these German boys - even the nicest - are so persistent. We have a Victrola in our room. Belongs to Desmond but he's very generous. I just can't wait to get back to Salzburg - and without old God. It will be perfectly wonderful. - - I haven't sent you any
    (second page):
postcards of Munich because I can't afford to buy them. It's a lousy city anyway + I can't understand what everyone liked so much about it. The only good things are the clubs + bars + they're just like others I've seen. I know the whole history of Bavaria and yesterday I went + followed up some of the points - Awfully interesting but not extraordinary. Wish I had more time. And more clothes. Tell (?) I'm simply crazy I have so few. Pretty soon I won't be able to go out. It costs a heck of a lot to get things cleaned. And nothing fits me because I'm at least 18 inches thinner. I still think I've changed; + my hair is quite different. That's another expense. It's absolutely impossible to wash your own hair so I must have it done every 8 days - Just another part of the (?) we (?).
    The war is quite uninteresting. I was sorry to have the Austrians side more or less with Italy but it's absolutely necessary to them to keep up what little trading they do together. Austria is very broke. I feel sorry for it - poor thing. I've discovered that "Mr. Jones" has done quite a lot of worthwhile things in Germany + almost everyone has something to say for him. (?) (?) is very very strict and militaristic but that's just like their rolls for breakfast - taken for granted. I don't mind just rolls for (breakfast) now - It's been a life saver. They're lousy too so I can't eat too many. This is an awful letter! Most everything is confidential - I'm really quite all right - I hoped by now you've sent me permission for Paris, etc. - And tell ma not to write Miss God - but if she must tell her to use plenty of discretion.
Write me a long letter about everything - the mill, etc.

                                                           Always love to you,
                                                                         (?)
P.S. I think it would be swell to move - either place.

(And then along the left margin she has written):  Don't say anything to Goddard about Paris or London yet. I'll tell you when - I'll elope if you do. 

 

I cannot make out the name of the writer. It begins with either F or J, but the rest of the signature is illegible to me. I've been thinking about this letter for the last few days, and my imagination has run rather wild, I'm afraid. It seems to me that it is written in code, that secret information about the war is being communicated in it. I wish so much that I had the first sheet of the letter, but I am very happy I have this much.

I would love to know your thoughts. Does this letter intrigue you as much as it does me?

Blossom says that she is intrigued by blueberries. ♥