Well, my dear, it is going to be lovely in Heaven. For me it will always be the end of September, just a hint of crisp in the air, leaves gold and orange and red, sunny and clear. We are going to live forever, in perfection. And every single person we will meet there will know how we struggled through "our" torrid days.
Your article was a Godsend, Hilary. Last year we had to sell our parents' house - the only home I ever knew up to that point in my life. (I took care of my parents and lived with them [Mom passed away in 2019].)
I have a new place 🙏 , legally mine with all my belongings but it doesn't feel like my home . I pass my parents" house to & from work. Maybe this is a faint reflection of what the poor souls in Purgatory feel like - they're close to Heaven but not there yet.
Thank you Hilary for helping to put things in perspective.
Ah, yes. Ferragosto. It’s famous. Near mythic, practically. It seems an ideal way to take a holiday. A whole country saying, “That’ll do. Close ‘er up. See y’all in a few weeks.” It’s fascinating to hear how this ideal intersects with, as you say, reality. The shutting-it-down in August is a practical necessity—the weather is awful.
Augusts in Southern Maryland sound like they’re similarly oppressive. High temps, similar to the ones you describe, coupled with the high relative humidity make things practically suffocating. I was impressed as I overheard a builder saying yesterday that his laborers can actually get used to it, they just have to pace themselves, drinking tons of water. He said his neighbors put a roof on their house, the roofers working all day sun-up to sundown, right through the midst of the swampiest days.
If Ferragosto is famous, the Southern Maryland summer swampiness, only fifty miles downstream from Washington DC, aka “the Swamp,” has its own acclaim. Or, as Ned said to Dusty, “it’s not just famous, it’s in-famous.” (See --> https://youtu.be/0b6_i_eSgR8 )
The Hazy, Hot and Humid leads frequently right into evening thunderstorms which often bring high winds strong enough to take down lots of tree limbs. They can dump quite a bit of rain, leading to flash flooding of the sort which knocked out the road a quarter-mile up from my church for six-months last year.
By the end of August things will start to improve. I’m not sure why they’re called the “dog days,” unless it’s a reference to some of the lingering of the brutal, hot days. The climate, here, then yields to “the Indian Summer” which can be quite pleasant and extend through September into October. October’s by favorite, not just ‘cause it’s my birthday-month, but because there always seems to be the highest number of predictably beautiful days.
Before moving “down here” to Southern Maryland five years ago I was four years in the Capital Hill neighborhood of Washington. I instantly, upon leaving the city and arriving to the country, began appreciating the beauties of nature. I remember waking up and having a coffee, on the back porch, just days after the transfer here. I was admiring the cornfield that my rectory overlooks and immediately began feeling the detox from the years in the city.
Well, I've got the lethargy down pat: following the heliacal rising of the star system Sirius (known colloquially as the "Dog Star"), which Hellenistic astrology connected with heat, drought, sudden thunderstorms, lethargy, fever, mad dogs, and bad luck.
So, out of curiosity from this post, I downloaded a stargazer app onto my phone and looked for Sirus, and sure enough, it appears above the horizon just slightly south of true east, trailing Orion. Rises just barely as it is starting to get light out, about 5:15. It might be the brightest star in the night sky in winter, but in summer you can't see it because it's in our northern hemisphere sky only while the sun is up. The whole constellation Canis Major is invisible to us in the late summer. So I can kind of see why the ancients would think the rising of the brightest star at the same time as the sun would be the thing that makes it super hot at the end of the summer.
I'll have to keep an eye out for it during winter, now. I've got a great view of Orion during the early winter mornings, before sun-up. It's not much use, as you say, to try to spot it in Summer.
After the earthquake I had to stay in Rome for a few days. The trauma of the previous couple of months - during which the seismic authority in Italy estimated we'd experienced over 50,000 earthquakes... several per day and lots of them at night that we could feel - had left me hypersensitive to noise. If you've ever tried to sleep in the centro of Rome you'll know what that must have been like. My friend took me to the cinema and afterward while we were waiting for a bus to take us back down to the centro, I suddenly burst into tears. I'd been having the Earthquake Freeze - the response you get when you hear the noise of the quake coming at you and you freeze to get ready to run for the door - every few seconds with every bus, train and tram that passed by. I had my arms over my head and had to say out loud, "There's no earthquake. There's no earthquake happening. It's not happening."
Italians still have their priorities on straight. There's this concept of many business owners of "enough money." A favourite restaurant of mine in Norcia is only open for the summer season and the Nero Norcia festival. They're absolutely swamped with customers during those times, and always the majority are locals who wait all year for the Cantina di Norcia to reopen. The owners, however, have a farm and some other operations they look after at home in San Pellegrino (or did until the earthquake totally destroyed that town) so can't be there all year. They close up at the end of the season with a, "Welp, we've made enough money. Time to go home." Long live medieval Italy!
Wrapping up Agosto, your pal, Cuthbert, got a shout-out in this morning's martyrology.
"In England, [in the year 651,] holy Aidan, Bishop of Lindisfarne. Holy Cuthbert, who was then a shepherd lad, saw the soul of Aidan carried up into heaven, and he thereupon left his sheep and became a monk."
Also mentioned was St. Aristedes, which made me think of your other pal, Juliette, out in Seattle.
"At Athens, [in the second century,] the holy Aristides, a man illustrious for his faith and wisdom, who offered to the Emperor Hadrian a book upon the Christian religion, containing an exposition of our doctrine, and delivered a most able discourse in the presence of the said Emperor, to prove that Christ Jesus is the only God."
All this while I was hurrying trying to finish up Prime in time for the 8AM Mass. We made it on time.
Well, my dear, it is going to be lovely in Heaven. For me it will always be the end of September, just a hint of crisp in the air, leaves gold and orange and red, sunny and clear. We are going to live forever, in perfection. And every single person we will meet there will know how we struggled through "our" torrid days.
Your article was a Godsend, Hilary. Last year we had to sell our parents' house - the only home I ever knew up to that point in my life. (I took care of my parents and lived with them [Mom passed away in 2019].)
I have a new place 🙏 , legally mine with all my belongings but it doesn't feel like my home . I pass my parents" house to & from work. Maybe this is a faint reflection of what the poor souls in Purgatory feel like - they're close to Heaven but not there yet.
Thank you Hilary for helping to put things in perspective.
Philemon 1: 3-4
Ah, yes. Ferragosto. It’s famous. Near mythic, practically. It seems an ideal way to take a holiday. A whole country saying, “That’ll do. Close ‘er up. See y’all in a few weeks.” It’s fascinating to hear how this ideal intersects with, as you say, reality. The shutting-it-down in August is a practical necessity—the weather is awful.
Augusts in Southern Maryland sound like they’re similarly oppressive. High temps, similar to the ones you describe, coupled with the high relative humidity make things practically suffocating. I was impressed as I overheard a builder saying yesterday that his laborers can actually get used to it, they just have to pace themselves, drinking tons of water. He said his neighbors put a roof on their house, the roofers working all day sun-up to sundown, right through the midst of the swampiest days.
If Ferragosto is famous, the Southern Maryland summer swampiness, only fifty miles downstream from Washington DC, aka “the Swamp,” has its own acclaim. Or, as Ned said to Dusty, “it’s not just famous, it’s in-famous.” (See --> https://youtu.be/0b6_i_eSgR8 )
The Hazy, Hot and Humid leads frequently right into evening thunderstorms which often bring high winds strong enough to take down lots of tree limbs. They can dump quite a bit of rain, leading to flash flooding of the sort which knocked out the road a quarter-mile up from my church for six-months last year.
By the end of August things will start to improve. I’m not sure why they’re called the “dog days,” unless it’s a reference to some of the lingering of the brutal, hot days. The climate, here, then yields to “the Indian Summer” which can be quite pleasant and extend through September into October. October’s by favorite, not just ‘cause it’s my birthday-month, but because there always seems to be the highest number of predictably beautiful days.
Before moving “down here” to Southern Maryland five years ago I was four years in the Capital Hill neighborhood of Washington. I instantly, upon leaving the city and arriving to the country, began appreciating the beauties of nature. I remember waking up and having a coffee, on the back porch, just days after the transfer here. I was admiring the cornfield that my rectory overlooks and immediately began feeling the detox from the years in the city.
The internet of things impresses, once again:
Re: "Dog Days"
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dog_days
Well, I've got the lethargy down pat: following the heliacal rising of the star system Sirius (known colloquially as the "Dog Star"), which Hellenistic astrology connected with heat, drought, sudden thunderstorms, lethargy, fever, mad dogs, and bad luck.
So, out of curiosity from this post, I downloaded a stargazer app onto my phone and looked for Sirus, and sure enough, it appears above the horizon just slightly south of true east, trailing Orion. Rises just barely as it is starting to get light out, about 5:15. It might be the brightest star in the night sky in winter, but in summer you can't see it because it's in our northern hemisphere sky only while the sun is up. The whole constellation Canis Major is invisible to us in the late summer. So I can kind of see why the ancients would think the rising of the brightest star at the same time as the sun would be the thing that makes it super hot at the end of the summer.
That's a riot.
I'll have to keep an eye out for it during winter, now. I've got a great view of Orion during the early winter mornings, before sun-up. It's not much use, as you say, to try to spot it in Summer.
After the earthquake I had to stay in Rome for a few days. The trauma of the previous couple of months - during which the seismic authority in Italy estimated we'd experienced over 50,000 earthquakes... several per day and lots of them at night that we could feel - had left me hypersensitive to noise. If you've ever tried to sleep in the centro of Rome you'll know what that must have been like. My friend took me to the cinema and afterward while we were waiting for a bus to take us back down to the centro, I suddenly burst into tears. I'd been having the Earthquake Freeze - the response you get when you hear the noise of the quake coming at you and you freeze to get ready to run for the door - every few seconds with every bus, train and tram that passed by. I had my arms over my head and had to say out loud, "There's no earthquake. There's no earthquake happening. It's not happening."
So, yeah. Not living in the city again.
Italians still have their priorities on straight. There's this concept of many business owners of "enough money." A favourite restaurant of mine in Norcia is only open for the summer season and the Nero Norcia festival. They're absolutely swamped with customers during those times, and always the majority are locals who wait all year for the Cantina di Norcia to reopen. The owners, however, have a farm and some other operations they look after at home in San Pellegrino (or did until the earthquake totally destroyed that town) so can't be there all year. They close up at the end of the season with a, "Welp, we've made enough money. Time to go home." Long live medieval Italy!
Bernard today.
This Spirit that moves a Benedict or a Bernard to respond “What? Re-orient civilization? Hold my beer!” is the same Spirit we’ve each received.
It’s fascinating, for one thing, to consider what their “networking” must’ve looked like, and how that was good enough for the Holy Spirit.
“Hey, I’m gonna be over here reciting the Psalms and re-orienting civilization. Join?”
“Sure.”
I just came across, for the first time, Newman'a essay on The Mission of St. Benedict. Long read. A delight.
https://www.newmanreader.org/works/historical/volume2/benedictine/mission.html
Wrapping up Agosto, your pal, Cuthbert, got a shout-out in this morning's martyrology.
"In England, [in the year 651,] holy Aidan, Bishop of Lindisfarne. Holy Cuthbert, who was then a shepherd lad, saw the soul of Aidan carried up into heaven, and he thereupon left his sheep and became a monk."
Also mentioned was St. Aristedes, which made me think of your other pal, Juliette, out in Seattle.
"At Athens, [in the second century,] the holy Aristides, a man illustrious for his faith and wisdom, who offered to the Emperor Hadrian a book upon the Christian religion, containing an exposition of our doctrine, and delivered a most able discourse in the presence of the said Emperor, to prove that Christ Jesus is the only God."
All this while I was hurrying trying to finish up Prime in time for the 8AM Mass. We made it on time.
https://www.divinumofficium.com/cgi-bin/horas/Pofficium.pl?date1=8-30-2021&command=prayPrima&version=Rubrics%201960&testmode=regular&lang2=English&votive=