Bloggy blessings

I've been missing out on some of the blessings of blogging lately due to not having time or mental energy to post. I know I'm not the only one for whom blogging – not just reading others' blogs, but posting to my own – is a blessing, because one of my blogpals told me so just yesterday! That blogpal is at the heart of a sweet little story....

Wednesday afternoon our internet went down. After trying various fixes to no avail (turned out a brief power outage fried our antenna's power receptor), I started getting frantic. I was in the middle of essential communications with attorneys in my dad's case . . . and my supper plans were built around a recipe Mama Pea had posted. (I don't commit recipes to a written card until I know they are keepers.) Yeah, I could have made a menu U-turn, but I really wanted to try those cornmeal muffins, and had some thawed pumpkin in the frig that was singing "It's now or never" – loudly. I don't have Mama Pea's phone number . . . but I did have Susan's. Feeling self-conscious about calling someone I've never met or even talked to on the phone before, I dialed her number. When Susan answered, I introduced myself as Michelle from Boulderneigh – and instantly could have been talking to any one of my few dear IRL (in real life) friends. Because you know what? She IS a dear IRL friend! Through our words, our photos, our stories, we have bonded over shared interests, passions, convictions. We could have gabbed for hours but for poor cell service; transported to a common location we would have, I'm sure. This is true of most of the bloggers I follow. That is why I follow them; the bonding is real and deep. One of my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis, said in The Four Loves: "Friendship . . . is born at the moment when one man says to another 'What! You, too? I thought that no one but myself....'"

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Last night I slept better than anytime in recent memory. Crisp night air wafted through my wide-open window; burrowing into the covers felt delicious. We've had very few of those formerly-typical cool summer nights; on the news last night, the meteorologist said that this month is the first September on record that nighttime temperatures have stayed above 64° – and we've had five nights so far that have. That's only one of many extreme weather records we've smashed this year, but relief is in sight. This weekend Oregon is supposed to see the first real rainfall in months, followed by much-moderated temperatures. I think all living things will be singing hallelujah over that – especially the firefighters working hard all over our parched state and beyond. Summer, don't let the door hit you on the bum on the way out! Yes, I'm missing the late-evening daylight, but I'm loving the glorious morning light (biggify to see the wonderful detail down in the valley):

Last Friday I was laid low by some strange ailment. On our way home from Brian's violin lesson, I felt a wave of sleepiness. When I got out of the the car at home, I felt strangely light-headed, so I decided to lay down for a few minutes. I dozed briefly, then jumped up to tackle the many things that still needed doing before the Sabbath began – only to feel seriously dizzy, to the point of nauseous. Back to bed I went, and there I mostly stayed until Sunday morning. For the first few hours, only laying on my left side kept my world from spinning out of control (when I tried to change positions, I lost everything else to the point of dry heaves); after that, I could move some but remained miserable. By the end of Saturday, my pillow and bed felt like torture devices, so I moved to the couch for the night.

By Sunday morning I felt fragile but better – to my great relief, not only because I don't "do" sick, but because I had promised to take a dear friend to a Renaissance festival as a belated birthday present. I got up to see how I fared doing chores . . . and found Blake ailing again:

What is it about me taking a time-out from chores that makes my ram-man ill? Actually, I think it's just that my recent absences have coincided with leaf drop. Our long, hot, dry summer has stressed the trees into prematurely shedding their leaves, and Blake has been busy hoovering them up. We confirmed that he's urinating just fine, so no blockages, and he's bounced back without intervention. Hopefully he doesn't cause himself more problems....

Maple leaves cover the Ram-ada Inn

Anyway, I fared okay with morning chores, so off to the RenFaire my friend and I went:

We saw everything we wanted to see except a couple vendors missing from last year and made a short day of it; the only thing I purchased was some heavenly honey lavender gelato.

Speaking of only buying edibles, I'm pleased to say that my "non-acquisition year" is going well. I think all I've bought for myself is a shirt and a pair of used jeans plus a couple things to make my horse more comfortable; all my other purchases have been consumables, gifts, or things my guys needed. It has been surprisingly easy; I just don't look at ads and sales racks and remind myself that I'm in need of nothing – good habits to continue.

Back to the homefront. The New York asters in front of Brian's bedroom window are in full bloom now, one of the few colorful highlights in our current landscape.

My urn of red Calibrachoa was a bright spot – until something came along and ate off all the flowers!

For weeks the swallows have been gathering, busily catching bugs in the late afternoon, then collecting on the power lines.

I don't think you could extrapolate any music from their positions on the wires, but I found this little piece rather lovely:


Wishing you sweet songs, from . . .