Heredity by Thomas Hardy

I am the family face;
Flesh perishes, I live on,
Projecting trait and trace
Through time to times anon,
And leaping from place to place
Over oblivion.

The years-heired feature that can
In curve and voice and eye
Despise the human span
Of durance -- that is I;
The eternal thing in man,
That heeds no call to die

located

Thanks to a COI follower, the bird of interest in Chicago bakery burglaries has been sighted out side Dom's Eatery, Old Town stuffing donut holes.

Write-in Question

Dear J.P. and Mikey,

Every night before bed, I prepare bottles for the baby's night time feeding. Although the instructions clearly state that the water should be poured and measured into the bottle before adding the appropriate amount of formula, once mixed it only lasts one hour. Therefore I have been measuring the formula and adding the water when ready to feed. My lovely husband and I are in a long-standing argument regarding the best way to do so. The side of the bottles are marked with lines at each ounce. Even though the proper ratio is 2 ounces water to 1 scoop powdered formula, with the powder already in the bottle I fill to the 3 ounce line to make up for the volume of the formula powder. Nonsense! says the husband. He insists that I should still only fill to the 2 ounce line because that's how much formula I am supposed to be making, and thinks that because the powder will dissolve the level should remain the same. I know I should be able to figure this out, but I was an English Major. Please help.

Signed,

Paranoid Mommy

knocknarea mountain ireland

Red Hanrahan's Song About Ireland by William Butler Yeats

The old brown thorn-trees break in two high over Cummen Strand,
Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand;
Our courage breaks like an old tree in a black wind and dies,
But we have hidden in our hearts the flame out of the eyes
Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.

The wind has bundled up the clouds high over Knock- narea,
And thrown the thunder on the stones for all that Maeve can say.
Angers that are like noisy clouds have set our hearts abeat;
But we have all bent low and low and kissed the quiet feet
Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.

The yellow pool has overflowed high up on Clooth-na-Bare,
For the wet winds are blowing out of the clinging air;
Like heavy flooded waters our bodies and our blood;
But purer than a tall candle before the Holy Rood
Is Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.

Feast of Our Lady of Ransom

24 September, a double major, commemorates the foundation of the Mercedarians.

On 10 August, 1223, the Mercedarian Order was legally constituted at Barcelona by King James of Aragon and was approved by Gregory IX on 17 January, 1235. The Mercedarians celebrated their institution on the Sunday nearest to 1 Aug. (on which date in the year 1233 the Blessed Virgin was believed to have shown St. Peter Nolasco the white habit of the order).

Our Lady of Ransom is the principal patron of Barcelona.

In England the devotion to Our Lady of Ransom was revived in modern times to obtain the rescue of England as Our Lady's Dowry.

Poem by Alexander Pope

Epigram Engraved on the Collar of a Dog Which I Gave to His Royal Highness

I am his Highness' dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

Epitaph on a Lap-dog by Robert Burns

In wood and wild, ye warbling throng,
Your heavy loss deplore;
Now, half extinct your powers of song,
Sweet Echo is no more.


Ye jarring, screeching things around,
Scream your discordant joys;
Now, half your din of tuneless sound
With Echo silent lies.

Sonnet 37:

As a decrepit father takes delight by William Shakespeare


As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by Fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these all, or all, or more,
Entitled in thy parts, do crownèd sit,
I make my love engrafted to this store.
So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give
That I in thy abundance am sufficed
And by a part of all thy glory live.
Look what is best, that best I wish in thee.
This wish I have; then ten times happy me!


jpr: Good man John!!

Cradle Song by Lord Alfred Tennyson

What does little birdie say
In her nest at peep of day?
Let me fly, says little birdie,
Mother, let me fly away.
Birdie, rest a little longer,
Till thy little wings are stronger.
So she rests a little longer,
Then she flies away.

What does little baby say,
In her bed at peep of day?
Baby says, like little birdie,
Let me rise and fly away.
Baby, sleep a little longer,
Till thy little limbs are stronger.
If she sleeps a little longer,
Baby too shall fly away.

where did she go

Stabat Mater from the 13th Century

At the cross her station keeping,
Mary stood in sorrow weeping
When her Son was crucified.
....
Mary, fount of love's devotion,
Let me share with true emotion
All the sorrow you endured.
....
Virgin of all virgins blest!
Listen to my fond request:
Let me share your grief divine
....
Be to me, O Virgin, nigh,
Lest in flames I burn and die,
In His awe-full judgment day.


jpr: It's been a long time since this poem crossed my path.

ancient Irish warrior

sculpture of mythical leader Cuchulain carrying  his dead lover

Irish Newborn Traditions

One tradition starts at the Irish wedding with the ‘magic hanky’ (Gaelic: ciarsúr draíochta an phósta). The ‘magic hanky’ is a charming custom which involves having the bride carry a special hanky that, with just a few stitches, could be turned into the christening bonnet for the first baby. This bonnet can then be turned back into a hanky to be handed down and once again incorporated into the child’s wedding.

The Irish whiskey cake, which is very rich and sweet, was traditionally thought of as a ‘fertility’ cake and was believed to help the newlyweds to quickly start a family. Irish custom held that at the end of the wedding reception, the top tier of the wedding cake (Cáca Bainise le Fuisce Éireannach) was saved for the christening of their first child. The newborn’s parents serve the cake at the christening reception and sprinkle crumbs on their baby’s head as a symbolic wish for a long and prosperous life. Today this Irish tradition has been upgraded, and a bottle of Champagne is usually saved from the reception and so it can be used to ‘wet the babies head’ at the christening.

Another Irish christening custom is to give your baby its first silver coin at the christening. The new parents place the coin in the baby’s hand before the ceremony begins to ensure a prosperous future.

The Celtic Crane

The crane has a remarkable position in Celtic lore.

The crane is believed to be the messenger of the gods and to have a high degree of wisdom. The crane represents higher states of consciousness. In addition, both the male and female crane incubate their eggs and protect their young. For this reason, they are also symbolic of parenthood.

Cranes avoid direct confrontation whenever possible, and exhibit a complex array of threatening behaviors when necessary to prevent battles. Thus, they are symbolic of peace-keeping.

quote

“The only source of knowledge is experience” Albert Einstein

early burial rite

During an earlier period of Christianity, the priest used to place a pass to the next world on the chests of those who had died in the faith as they lay in the coffin. Such a pass also provided the deceased person's Christian name, the dates of birth and death, and a certificate of baptism, piety of his or her life, and a testimonial that the person had taken the sacrament of communion before death.

the traditional Irish home

May the roof above us never fall in
And may we good companions beneath it never fall out.
~Irish Blessing

Lisdoonvarna, Ireland

Matchmaking is one of Ireland's oldest traditions and, for the last couple of hundred years, a good deal of it has taken place in Lisdoonvarna during September and early October.


jpr: It seems a dance to good music and a stout drink can get you married!

And for sure the poteen is to their liking!

Irish adults have the highest consumption of alcohol and highest degree of binge drinking in Europe (European Union)

Average alcohol consumption (according to alcohol statistics done in Ireland in 2002) was 9.3 liters. Twice as high compared to the statistical levels reported in most of the European countries.

an Irish beauty

She's available Mikey!!!!!

The Irish Moonshiner

I've been a moonshiner for many a year
I've spent all me money on whiskey and beer
I'll go to some hollow, I'll set up my still
And I'll make you a gallon for a ten shilling bill

I'll go to some hollow in this count-er-y
Ten gallons of wash I can go on a spree
No women to follow, the world is all mine
I love none so well as I love the moonshine

Oh, moonshine, dear moonshine, oh, how I love thee
You killed me old father, but ah you try me
Now bless all moonshiners and bless all moonshine
Their breath smells as sweet as the dew on the vine

Irish Poteen

Poteen is made from barley which was soaked for a day in a large barrel of water. The grain was spread on the floor near the fire to dry and ripen. When it first began to bud, it wad dried and ground, and put into the mash (or wash) barrel. Some brewers would add yeast, while others would let the natural yeasts do the work. After two to four weeks, the batch was ready for the still. The heady liquid was siphoned off and put into the pot. The fire was built up and the water was started running on the condenser coil. The first bit to come over contained all the fusel oils, which are highly toxic. For this reason, the first "noggin" was always dumped out on the ground… for the Fairy Folk, or so it was claimed. The remainder of the batch was tapped off into bottles and tightly corked. These were then hidden.

oh Danny boy

Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.

And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.

And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

by Frederic Weatherly in 1910

Under the Harvest Moon

Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.

Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

by Carl Sandburg

harvest in appalachia

Apple pie, pumpkin pie, just lots of deliriously tasty treats.

It is well with my soul

But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

by Horatio G. Spafford, 1873

today's Appalachian shack

No city services yet.

appalachian swimming hole

It's all good as long as you don't land on a trout, turtle or snake.