Here lies Pip March, who died on the seventh of June. Loved and lamented sore, and not forgotten soon.
– from Little Women by Louisa Mae Alcott
And I’ve never forgotten Pip the canary’s epitaph since I first read the children’s classic when I was who knows how young. Every year on the day, Pip’s memory comes to mind. That’s how deeply the stories we love can affect us.
- “The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.”
― Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting
Credited to Country Living Magazine Quotes
Today relatively little Madeira is drunk in the U.S. Americans seem to want light, quick-drinking wines, and Madeira, which is heavy and must be sipped and savored at leisure, is like daytime baseball: a wonderful institution, made for the spirit of another age. Really fine Madeiras are today the Edsels of the wine world: a handful of fanatics hoard them and talk about them, but most people have never tasted one, let alone bought one.
– John Hailman, Thomas Jefferson on Wine
From Angel’s Share by Ellen Crosby
“I loved rhubarb, that hardy, underappreciated garden survivor that leafed out just as the worst of winter melted away. Not everyone was a fan, especially of the bitter, mushy, overcooked version. Yet sometimes a little bitterness could bring out the best in other flavors. Bitter rhubarb made sunny-day strawberry face the realities of life- and taste all the better for it. As I brushed the cakes with a deep pink glaze made from sweet strawberry and bottled rhubarb bitters, I hoped I would change rhubarb doubters. Certainly, the little Bundt cakes looked as irresistible as anything I had ever seen in a French patisserie.”
― Judith Fertig, The Memory of Lemon
Pure genius. I must look this lady’s work up.
“Then you have to remember to be thankful; but in May one simply can’t help being thankful . . . that they are alive, if for nothing else. I feel exactly as Eve must have felt in the garden of Eden before the trouble began.”
― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea
What’s past is prologue – William Shakespeare in The Tempest
This quote was included in the book I’m reviewing next: Angel’s Share – the latest Ellen Crosby Wine Country Mystery.
Crabapples are blooming – we hope winter is behind us. We wish the pandemic was.
But Shakespeare – or Francis Bacon – whatever one believes about this controversy – is correct.
We do seem doomed to repeat past mistakes – but also to be reassured by the fact that the season -, or perhaps even polyester leisure suits – will inevitably return to reassure or haunt us.
“Snow in April is abominable,” said Anne. “Like a slap in the face when you expected a kiss.”
– Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of Ingleside.
Hopefully there won’t be any more snow this April, but one never knows. Our April Fool’s gift from Mother Nature of nearly 3 inches was enough.
I think many mystery writers let their stories evolve, surprising even themselves with the way the tales turn out at times.
“And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” —F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby