Heat, hibiscus, reading and whistling

Here's where we are today

Out early to water plants and pick flowers, then another day inside, reading, stitching, maybe knitting, whistling. Also prepping Misfits food this afternoon.

I noticed lights and decorations at my neighbors' houses and wondered what Indian festival was up. Turned out to be Lord Krishna's birthday, so I shot off greetings to Indian friends, which tickled them a lot. See the greeting below, like that, which means Happy Lord Krishna's birthday.

And, after some discussion yesterday chez Mary Moon about not being able to think what to cook, I just opened the cabinet door, found tuna and cannellini  beans, thought I wonder if these will make a nice lunch? 

Doused with malt vinegar, big bunch of cilantro leaves mixed in, beans mashed down,  it was really good. Then I looked up the ingredients for nutrition information, I like to know, and found

Turns out I'd "invented" a traditional dish. Like when I "invented" basil, mozzarella and tomato and discovered via Joanne and Mary, that it's a classic dish with a name, Caprese salad. Oh. 

I've done this in art, too, thinking I'd invented a technique only to find it's some classic approach for about a thousand years. My teachers were tactful about this!

I wonder if a lot of ideas like this were accidental, just some little Italian lady trudging about in the kitchen, mamma mia, another meal,  what to feed la familia, ah, let's try this. And a classic is born.

Speaking of ideas from other bloggers, I think Jeanie referred to September Song, one of my favorites, and it occurred to me to add it to my whistling repertoire. I know what I'm whistling, but I think listeners would need captions, to know Linden Lea, another fave, from Dead March in Saul. I bet this is why you get programs at concerts, too.

And here's another little known instrument

Take that, Rolling Stones!

I've found a writer I think I'm going to like, police procedurals set in the French countryside, the police officer main character also a good cook, tennis player, dog owner and lover of early music. Checks a lot of boxes. He gets into the Occitan language,  even, and Catalan  politics.  

I learned Old French as a language at the Uni, and had Chastelaine de Vergi in my old Kindle.  One day I'll get into the langue d'oc  and the langue d'oil (add another dot over the i), and be a great big bore about it. 

Anyway back to  Martin Walker,  he's written quite a few books. Great fall and winter reading to come.

I finished Fresh Water for Flowers, 

and liked it very much. There are many affairs of the heart, entanglements, a central huge sad mystery eventually even more sadly solved. It's long but you need to develop an understanding of the many characters and how they came to be who they are. Set in France, it's very much worth reading. France seems to be getting into my reading these days.

Meanwhile, I found a use for the replacement certificate from Breck for those totally failed snowdrops last year. I noticed how successful the neighbor's red hibiscus is, so I've ordered the bottom left you see here, not red, a lovely white.

Arriving in mid October, and I can't wait.  These get wide but not tall, so it won't get involved with the trees. 

Meanwhile this morning I picked zinnias for your morning bouquet.

Happy day, everyone, and let's hope any of today's accidents will be happy discoveries.

Marian Anderson, weaving and chicken soup

Yesterday I did what I often do on that date, watched and listened to the glorious voice of Marian Anderson, to honor her April 9, 1939 concert at the Lincoln memorial

It's on YouTube, you can find it. 

The bitter irony all these years later, of hearing her sing My Country, 'Tis of Thee, a couple of days after two black State senators were expelled from the legislature. 

For protesting on the Senate floor the  gun deaths of little children, at a local school, in their district.  I weep every year over this concert but this year was even sharper. 

The DAR owned Constitution Hall, where she was originally supposed to sing, and refused it to her, on the grounds of race. 

Whereupon another concert was arranged, out of doors, 75,000 people in attendance including a lot of prominent supporters on the steps with her.

She sang with only a piano accompaniment. It was all she needed for a historic statement.

And yesterday was about resting after the Easter dinner, and making yogurt and chicken soup.

Great chicken led to great chicken soup. With a pita bread stuffed with chicken scraps and vegetables.

Then today I got weaving. Well, threading.

The new rigid heddle is great, and I found a handy windowsill to clamp the warping post. I used the bathroom seat, just the right height to weave on an upward slant. I loaded a shuttle with a plain green yarn, and tomorrow I'll weave.

A trip to the library today to return The Maid, which I recommend, and borrow another cookbook from Laurie Colwin

I find I'm still winnowing --  the daily habit seems to have taken hold. Mostly it's paper goods. 

And Freecycle yielded one taker yesterday for the Nerf toys, who set it all up then backed out, saying he just realized it's too far.  The location being clearly stated, twice, in the listing , sigh.

Then today another potential taker, we'll see. No interest at all in the Barbie set-up. It's really too cumbersome for the thriftie and may end up recycled. Again, we'll see.

Happy day everyone, sing your song! Which reminds me that yesterday I discovered that after a long lifetime of being unable to whistle, I managed it. 

An actual tune, Schubert's Ave Maria, to be exact. I just tried it on an impulse, and it's scratchy and not a huge range, but more or less accurate. So maybe my face has changed over the years or something. Anyway I suddenly have a new instrument, more or less..too funny.