Shortbread of any kind . . . Serve lemon balm shortbread with some fresh lemonbalm tea and you’ve got yourself a decadent little treat for a summertime afternoon.
Source: Lemonbalm Shortbread
Shortbread of any kind . . . Serve lemon balm shortbread with some fresh lemonbalm tea and you’ve got yourself a decadent little treat for a summertime afternoon.
Source: Lemonbalm Shortbread
Every once in awhile I am taken aback (and sometimes amused) by the particular variety of the countries that have viewed my posts. No rhyme nor reason as far as I can tell. No relations to subject matter, or posting dates, or events in the world. For some reason, folk in these countries wanted to read my words and observations. Gotta say, it makes me feel kinda good.
UNITED STATES
CANADA
THAILAND
TAIWAN
BELGUIM
TUNISIA
ITALY
CAMBODIA
SPAIN
FINLAND
c
The Unicorn is mentioned eight times in the Holy Bible. The list is below.
When I have Druids, and their unicorns, go to Jerusalem in my novel A Lost Gospel, to make sure Jesus gets crucified, I feel I am on solid ground. And when one of my druids, Ogma, has the following experience, I believe it is a symmetry of Biblical proportions.
Unicorns are mentioned in the following places of The Bible:
Numbers 23:22
God brought them out of Egypt; he hath as it were the strength of an unicorn.
Numbers 24:8
Deuteronomy 33:17
Job 39:9-12
Psalm 22:21
Psalm 29:6
Psalm 92:10
Isaiah 34:7
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From A Lost Gospel
“Are you lost?”
“No.”
Ogma was taken by surprise, but he did not turn toward the speaker. He had no desire to start a conversation, he just wanted to be left to himself.
“Yet you are a traveller to these parts.”
“Yes.”
Ogma knew only too well the interest local people had for strangers in their midst. It was an interest which could easily turn into suspicion. He was alone, and he did not want to have trouble in this unknown land.
“I had business in Jerusalem.” Ogma shrugged. “The desire came upon me to feel earth under my feet, not paving stones.”
“And you find yourself here.”
“I turned from the main road at a whim.”
“What did you in Jerusalem?”
“I do not intrude thus in your life.” Ogma kept a steady gaze across the field, though he could not keep irritation from his voice.
“Yet you do intrude – for here you are.”
“If I’m on your land, I apologise. I thought it was a common road. There is no barrier in place to warn me otherwise.”
Ogma wondered if it was time to leave the way he had come, or to stay and talk. Despite the words spoken, the other man’s voice displayed no anger, or annoyance.
“Do you find no peace in Jerusalem?”
“I’ve had a troubled time in your grand city.”
Ogma suddenly realised he had things he wanted to say, which he could not discuss with the other druids. He finally turned to the man, wondering if he should explain further.
“By the Gods of Death!” Ogma stood back in fear. “This is not possible.”
“There are no boundaries to what is possible.”
“I saw them hang you up.”
“You saw flesh. And blood.”
“Then what do I see now?”
“More than a man of sorrows.”
“Glarus was right.” Ogma began to move further away, but stopped himself. “I’m not to fear you, or the change you bring.”
“Truth deserves acceptance, not fear.”
“Do you know of my burden?”
The other man raised his arm and pointed. Ogma turned to follow the outstretched hand. He saw the two unicorns standing close together among the trees.
“Have they brought me here?”
“They have led you to a place you sought yourself.”
“You know of Glarus.” Ogma stopped abruptly, and his voice lowered. “The gods I understand believe in trade. Take me instead of her.”
“You care so much?”
“I know the worth of things.” Ogma stared directly at the other man. “It is better to have her alive, than me.”
“No man knows his own worth.” Yeshua touched the small man, then held him close. “My father’s love does not barter.” He released Ogma with a smile. “Return to Jerusalem. You travel with companions.”
“The beasts accompany me?”
“Thou hast heard me from the horns of the unicorns.”
So . . .
It happened like this.
First, my brother
(The one on the Island),
Has a friend who
Saw a Heron.
(I suppose a ‘Great Blue”
But I don’t know).
And then his wife
(That’d be my sister-in-law)
Is clearing away the
Grass & twigs
From the crocus
To help them grow
(You know – get the sun).
And on the big Fir
(Right out my window)
I’ve had:
Five blue jays
(All at once – usually
I rarely see them in more
Than two together)
A crow
Chick-a-dee-dee-dees
(Chick-a-dee-dee- deeing to beat
The band)
Two mourning doves
Billing and cooing
(Boy, were they ever billing
Never saw the sight before)
And a robin red breast
Looking right at me
As if I might have
A handful of worms
(Which – sadly – I didn’t)
‘Cause I would have given that bird
All I had.
To prove a Test,
Almost a testament
As it were
The Test is to be tested.
To find out if it
Is an adequate test.
A workable Test
A Test correctly
Responsive
To answers
To say nothing
About the questions.
So – yeh – sure
There was an iceberg
A BIG effin’ mother
And
We hit it
And it’s dark as Hell
And the lights are going out
And the water
Is cold enough to
Kill ya
But
It’s the Titanic, goddanmit
And these last couple of hours
Maybe less
Should be as comfortable
As possible.
There’s even music
And, sure
Folk are scrambling for the lifeboats
And
There ain’t enough of them
And it’s
Women and children first
(Even some from the lower decks)
But where does that leave the rest of us?
Even the crew.
Gotta do something
Gotta pass the time
Gotta be productive
Or take a header off the railing.
So
Deck chairs are nice
Easy to move around
Comfy to sit in
Watch the sights
Sing along with the music
Or hum
Brace your feet
When the deck starts to list too far
Look at the starrs
Wonder if
One of those lifeboats
Just might pick you up
Pluck you from that icy grave.
DE BA. UE
Try this recipe for Pistachio Rhubarb Yogurt Cake from PBS Food.
Source: Pistachio Rhubarb Yogurt Cake
In my manuscript, There Was A Time, Oh Pilgrim, When The Stones Were Not So Smooth I finished a chapter about the ‘elderly Dutchmen party with Alison Alexandra’ on Friday 13th last March. I took a trip and, on 19th March, began what is nearly a full year of Pandemic writing.The next chapter of the novel begins “In times of Pandemic, one of Alison Alexandra’s greatest worries is being bored.”
I started planning to write about the Pandemic the day after I heard that China was constructing hospitals solely devoted to COVID patients. I knew then the world was going to be in a lot of trouble. I have been writing about the Pandemic ever since.
This is how that chapter begins.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In times of Pandemic, one of Alison Alexandra’s greatest worries is being bored. And though she doesn’t want to test the theory, she believes she would rather be ill than bored.
“I’d step lightly there,” says R/Jane-the-Ghost.
“You would?”
“I would,” says R/Jane-the-Ghost. “And I know what I’m talking about. Yes – I do.”
Within the week of Wuhan City in China being shut down, and the building of emergency hospitals to house the sick, Alison Alexandra knew this would inevitably become the fate of the world. It might have intruded a bit more quickly than she has anticipated, but not by much.
Alison Alexandra of course thinks about the Chinese cures: “May you live in interesting times”. But she also knows that this is a phrase in English that has no Chinese equivalent. The closest curse in Chinese is “Better to be a dog in peacetime than a human in time of war”.
“I won’t argue with that,” says R/Jane-the-Ghost.
And she doesn’t.
So, it was at the beginning of the Chinese curse that Alison Alexandra sets her plan into motion. It is simple, though dependent on circumstance.
Alison Alexandra arranges to get those with whom she’d like to share the End Times – if End Times they prove to be – to join her at her house and wait out the famine with a feast or two. Or three.
“I don’t think the End Times are supposed to be good times,” says R/Jane-the-Ghost/
“Not to put too fine a point on it,” says Alison Alexandra. “But aren’t you supposed to know?”
“Point taken,” says R/Jane-the-Ghost.
[Image] https://www.frontiersurvival.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/FS-Pandemic-Plan.jpg
Little birds,
Dozens of them singing
Their little bird hearts out.
White crocus,
Slender white points,
Not yet in bloom.
On the other side
Of a picket fence.
And there are three seagulls,
Soaring over the houses,
Screeching loud enough
To beat the band.
Earlier today,
Snow squalls
That obscured the harbour
And hid the grass.
But my afternoon walk
Was in clear sun,
Under cloudless sky,
And I didn’t really need
A hat
Or gloves,
Though I wore both.
So Spring is more
Than an idea,
Or
A date
On the calendar.
Spring is starting to awaken.