Skip to main content

It is raining

so hard and delicious and wonderfully. It does not rain much here so it is always a shock when I hear it on the roof.

I ate so much at the pot luck. It was so much fun... I cleaned out the hen house when I got home, and I really wanted to plant my bulbs but I could see it was going to rain.

I ate a little of everything, but it turned out to be a whole lot. And I laughed until I cried. I never laugh at work, and I was very conscious of this and tried to shut it up but I couldn't stop.

Yesterday we walked around town, and I must say Arlington does not have a lot in the way of historical buildings. The Berachah Home for Erring Girls made me think of Emilie Autumn... On one plaque there was a photo of Victorian women in some society. They all had dark hair and were dressed in white. The women wore long white gowns, all wonderfully differentiated in what I could tell was exquisite lace or little boots, with their hair so dark in a loose bouffant, and it was all exquisite.

Popular posts from this blog

The secret to a happy home

I finished Marion Harland's guide tonight and I wonder ceaselessly at two things. 1. She is so down on America! Even more than I am. She complains of things in which I am so well-steeped I could not see them for what they were. In particular, American style and cookery. It is true that our food, which we count as so much more generous in portion than the overseas counterpart, is as coarse and indecorous as it is plentiful, but as an American woman I cast up my hands and declare I would rather spend my time on something else. She makes an interesting point about American women's fashions. In France women wear what looks good on them, and in America women wears what comes off the manufacturing line in the latest style. It is very conformist, and I have to admit I feel it in myself, for I would be embarrassed to wear something that is "out" even if it flattered me better. 2. Harland's other point I feel clearly from last night's experiences. I looked in my journ...

Helen Keller

Reading this Women of Influence book is causing me to remember another of my great childhood loves -- "The Miracle Worker," the story of Anne Sullivan and Helen Keller. It was Anne Sullivan I really loved, and still love -- it always made me heartsick to think of her sacrifice, devoting every waking minute to another human being, with almost no life left to herself, until she died in old age, and Helen Keller required another translator. But God -- she must have known it -- that's the best way to live -- it is to have every moment of your life swallowed in supreme goodness and satisfaction. No wonder I loved her, and no longer do I feel sorry for her -- I envy her. I thought of her today perhaps because when I was around eight or nine I grew aware that she and I shared the same initials "AS." Today is the first day that I am Amanda Monteleone at work, and I have written my initials "AM" dozens of times already. It's strange, but the satisfaction of...

Sprouts

Sprouts Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde . I am getting sprouts. Hopefully they are carnations. It is such a beautiful spring day. It's good I'm taking the chance to come outside: I have craved a moment to reflect on something beautiful.