LAMMAS POEM

"HARVEST MOON"

John Linnell 1858

I forgot to put this into my last post. Here's a Lammas poem by Robert Burns:

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It was on a Lammas night,

When corn rigs are bonie,

Beneath the moon's unclouded light,

I held away to Annie:

The time flew by, wi tentless heed,

Till 'tween the late and early;

Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed

To see me thro' the barley.
The sky was blue, the wind was still,

The moon was shining clearly;

I set her down, wi' right good will,

Amang the rigs o'barley

I ken't her heart was a' my ain;

I lov'd her most sincerely;

I kissed her owre and owre again,

Among the rig o' barley.
I locked her in my fond embrace;

Her heart was beating rarely:

My blessings on that happy place,

Amang the rigs o'barley.

But by the moon and stars so bright,

That shone that hour so clearly!

She ay shall bless that happy night,

Amang the rigs o'barley.
I hae been blythe wi' Comrades dear;

I hae been merry drinking;

I hae been joyfu' gath'rin gear;

I hae been happy thinking:

But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,

Tho three times doubl'd fairley

That happy night was worth then a'.

Among the rig's o' barley.

CHORUS

Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,

An' corn rigs are bonie:

I'll ne'er forget that happy night,

Among the rigs wi' Annie.

LAMMASTIDE

Today is Lammas, the festival of the first wheat harvest, an Olde English holiday I wish we celebrated here. Lammas means Loaf Mass. On Lammas Day, it was the custom to bake a loaf of bread from the new crop of wheat and bring it to church. Parishioners sang "Bringing in the Sheaves" and decorated their church with wheat sheaves and corn dollies. (When an English person talks about corn, he doesn't mean maize, but rather wheat - or other grains, I suppose). Lammas is also known as the festival of the first fruits.

Life size corn maidens and corn men were made and saved through the winter, to be plowed back into the earth in the spring. (Americans celebrating Lammas make corn husk dolls from maize.)

Lammas is the first of three festivals of the waning year. Technically, then, Lammas is the first day of autumn. Maybe that's why I'd like to celebrate Lammas this year. I can't believe that just one month ago I was lamenting that summer was 1/3 over. Now that it's 2/3 over I am sick, sick, sick of summer.

I guess that's not really true. What I am sick of is the incessant, oppressive heat and humidity we've experienced the past month. I am ready for crisp, bluebird fall days and freshening breezes.

Since I'm of Scottish descent, I'll throw in a little bit about Lammas celebrations in Scotland: "Until recent years in Scotland, the first cut of the harvest was made on Lammas Day, and was a ritual in itself. The entire family must dress in their finest clothing and go to the fields. The head of the family would lay his bonnet (hat) on the ground and, facing the sun, cut the first handful of corn [wheat] with a sickle. He would then put the corn sun-wise around his head three times while thanking the god of the harvest "for corn and bread, food and flocks, wool and clothing, health and strength, and peace and plenty." This custom was called the "Iolach Buana."

Lammastide was also a time for feasting, craft fairs and other festivities. Lammas fairs are still held today in England.

In North Dakota, there is no time for festivals now. Hurry is the word of the day. The wheat and other crops must be harvested before the hail and rains bring destruction. Hungry combines, as many as a half dozen in one field, look like giant insects as they scarf up the grain and spit out the chaff. Farmers harvest way into the night, the lights of their combines eerily lighting up the prairie.

By Labor Day, farmers might have a bit of time to attend an old-time steam threshing festival. I attended the Rollag (Minnesota) Steam Thresher Reunion once, and once is forever enough as it is an extremely noisy and dusty affair. But we reserve our true harvest celebrations for later in the fall.

To celebrate Lammas, it is suggested one might bake a loaf of bread or cornbread. Even though it is a bit cooler here today, my oven will not be turned on! Apparently one can substitute popcorn, so I might just make some of that instead.

Lammas is also known as Lughnasadh, an important Celtic holiday. Instead of writing about Lughnasadh here, I'm going to refer you to Autumn for her excellent discussion of this holiday at http://www.autumnsmeadow.blogspot.com/.

Note: Don't forget that our Aussie and New Zealand friends down under are celebrating Imbolc/Candlemas today. For a superb take on that holiday, check out Robyn's blog at http://www.talesofinglewood.blogspot.com/. Robyn asks if I have noticed - and I have - that "most of the Christian celebrations have actually been 'stolen' from pagan and Celtic beliefs."

Below is another Lammas scene. Because of our enormous fields of wheat and sunflowers, and because our state is known as the bread basket of the world, this would be a very fitting table for a North Dakota Lammas celebration. North Dakota isn't exactly known for its grapes, but we do have TWO wineries! As far as pears go, I've only ever seen one pear tree in North Dakota. But what on earth are those two orange-y blobs in the corner supposed to be?

JULY BOOKS

These are the books I read in July:

"Harry Potter and the "Deathly Hallows". Need I say more?

"Luncheon of the Boating Party" by Susan Vreeland. I waxed rhapsodic about this book in a post earlier this month.

"Sweetwater Creek," by Anne Rivers Siddons. I love ARS and have read almost all of her books. She writes so well about the Low Country of South Carolina. This book features the Low Country, a farm that raises champion dogs, and dolphins that visit the farm's Sweetwater Creek, so I was in heaven.

"Body Surfing" by Anita Shreve. What I said about Anne Rivers Siddons I'll say about Shreve. I have read most of her books. I think I have read "The Weight of Water" but I'll have to re-visit it because Lila from Indigo Pears got my interest piqued in it. It's funny how one thing leads to another. Lila posted a picture of a Childe Hassam painting which led me to comment about Celia Thaxter's gardening book featuring Hassam's paintings. Which in turn caused Lila to do some research about the murder of two women who were Thaxter's neighbors. Which led to a reference to "The Weight of Water" because this Shreve book revolves around these famous murders that occurred in 19th Century New England.

"Suite Francaise" by Irene Nemirovsky. We read this for book club. I was the first one to open my mouth about the book and was complaining that it seemed like it should have been two separate books. "Well, it was," said Barb N., the host who had chosen the book. "Don't you remember me telling you that?" Erm, no. I guess that's why they call it The CRS book club. Originally, Nemirovsky, who was Jewish, had planned to write five books about the German occupation of France. However, after she finished two books, she was captured by the Nazis and sent to a concentration camp where she died. I felt like such a fool. The first "book" deals with the sorrowful refugee evacuation from Paris when the Nazis invaded; the second "book" is about French villagers who learn to co-exist with their German conquerors.

I purchased "Night Gardening", by E. L. Swann, on the strength of recommendations by several bloggers. Daisy, I believe, was one. I can believe that, as it is filled with extraordinary descriptions of gardens. It also tells the love story of two older-than-average persons - one handicapped - which I greatly appreciated. And when I say love story I should say Erotic love story.

"Foolsgold" by Susan G. Wooldridge. If you're looking for something to jump start your artistic endeavors, or your poetry writing, go no further. What I like about this book is that she weaves her life into the book so that it's not at all a dry "how-to." I didn't realize I had another of her books: "Poemcrazy". Wooldridge overlaps this book with "Poemcrazy" to a slight extent but not enough to disappoint a person who has purchased both books.

"Tori Amos Piece by Piece", by Tori Amos and Ann Powers. This is no tale of a rock-star diva. Amos is an extremely intelligent, well-read woman who has thoroughly plumbed the depths of her spirituality in all its aspects. She is the daughter of a minister, had a puritanical Christian (read "mean") paternal grandmother and a loving maternal grandfather of Cherokee ancestry. That would be a fascinating enough mix, but Tori folds in discussions of myths, archetypes, goddesses, Mary Magdalene and the Sacred Prostitute, feminism, and older-than-average motherhood.

About the only thing I didn't like about the book were the chapter on her dealings with music moguls, and the chapter in which she deconstructs her songs. Not being musical, I found it extremely boring. However, I remember also being bored when reading ballerina Gelsey Kirkland's biography in which she deconstructed all her ballets. Ladies, first of all, it's boring. Second, leave a little mystique and mystery in your art!

THE LADY OF SHALOTT - PLUS GIVEAWAY

THE LADY OF SHALOTT

J. W. Waterhouse

Here's another lady that intrigues me - and a giveaway after the poem.

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"THE LADY OF SHALOTT"

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

**********

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road runs by

To many-tower'd Camelot;

And up and down the people go,

Gazing where the lilies blow

Round an island there below,

The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,

Little breezes dusk and shiver

Thro' the wave that runs for ever

By the island in the river

Flowing down to Camelot.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers,

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow veil'd,

Slide the heavy barges trail'd

By slow horses; and unhail'd

The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd

Skimming down to Camelot:

But who hath seen her wave her hand?

Or at the casement seen her stand?

Or is she known in all the land,

The Lady of Shalott?
Only reapers, reaping early

In among the bearded barley,

Hear a song that echoes cheerly

From the river winding clearly,

Down to tower'd Camelot:

And by the moon the reaper weary,

Piling sheaves in uplands airy,

Listening, whispers

'Tis the fairy Lady of Shalott."

PART II

There she weaves by night and day

A magic web with colours gay.

She has heard a whisper say,

A curse is on her if she stay

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be,

And so she weaveth steadily,

And little other care hath she,

The Lady of Shalott.
And moving thro' a mirror clear

That hangs before her all the year,

Shadows of the world appear.

There she sees the highway near

Winding down to Camelot:

There the river eddy whirls,

And there the surly village-churls,

And the red cloaks of market girls,

Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,

An abbot on an ambling pad,

Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,

Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,

Goes by to tower'd Camelot;

And sometimes thro' the mirror blue

The knights come riding two and two:

She hath no loyal knight and true,

The Lady of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror's magic sights,

For often thro' the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights

And music, went to Camelot:

Or when the moon was overhead,

Came two young lovers lately wed:

"I am half sick of shadows," said

The Lady of Shalott.

PART III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,

He rode between the barley-sheaves,

The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves

And flamed upon the brazen greaves

Of bold Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd

To a lady in his shield,

That sparkled on the yellow field,

Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,

Like to some branch of stars we see

Hung in the golden Galaxy.

The bridle bells rang merrily

As he rode down to Camelot:

And from his blazon'd baldric slung

A mighty silver bugle hung,

And as he rode his armour rung,

Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather

The helmet and the helmet-feather

Burn'd like one burning flame together,

As he rode down to Camelot.

As often thro' the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;

On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow'd

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down to Camelot.

From the bank and from the river

He flash'd into the crystal mirror,

"Tirra lirra," by the river

Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom,

She made three paces thro' the room,

She saw the water-lily bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look'd down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack'd from side to side;

"The curse is come upon me," cried

The Lady of Shalott.

PART IV

In the stormy east-wind straining,

The pale yellow woods were waning,

The broad stream in his banks complaining

Heavily the low sky raining

Over tower'd Camelot;

Down she came and found a boat

Beneath a willow left afloat,

And round about the prow she wrote

'The Lady of Shalott'.
And down the river's dim expanse

Like some bold seer in a trance,

Seeing all his own mischance--

With a glassy countenance

Did she look to Camelot.

And at the closing of the day

She loosed the chain, and down she lay;

The broad stream bore her far away,

The Lady of Shalott.
Lying, robed in snowy white

That loosely flew to left and right--

The leaves upon her falling light--

Thro' the noises of the night

She floated down to Camelot:

And as the boat-head wound along

The willowy hills and fields among,

They heard her singing her last song,

The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy,

Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her blood was frozen slowly,

And her eyes were darken'd wholly,

Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.

For ere she reach'd upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony,

By garden-wall and gallery,

A gleaming shape she floated by,

Dead-pale between the houses high,

Silent into Camelot.

Out upon the wharfs they came,

Knight and burgher, lord and dame,

And round the prow they read her name,

The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? and what is here?

And in the lighted palace near

Died the sound of royal cheer;

And they cross'd themselves for fear,

All the knights at Camelot:

But Lancelot mused a little space;

He said, "She has a lovely face;

God in his mercy lend her grace,

The Lady of Shalott."

**********

Loreena McKennit set this sad, haunting Tennyson poem to music and put it on her CD "The Visit". She was also videotaped playing the harp and singing this ballad at the Canadian Juno awards. Since I have an extra copy, I am holding a giveaway for Loreena's 30-minute DVD called "No Journey's End", which features the full-length live performance, Loreena speaking about her music, and segments of videos from her other songs. To enter the giveaway, just post a comment here on why you like Loreena McKennitt, or if you've never heard of her but would like to. I'll draw a name in a week or so.

LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI

LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI

Henry Maynell Rheam

There are some ladies that enthrall me. Some are fey, some are legend, and some are real, living women. "La Belle Dame Sans Merci" (beautiful woman without pity) is one:

"LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI"

Ballad

By John Keats

I.
O WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.

II.
O what can ail thee, knight-at arms
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.

III.
I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

IV.
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

V.
I made a garland for her head
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She look’d at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.

VI.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery’s song.

VII.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
“I love thee true.”

VIII.
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept, and sigh’d fill sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.

IX.
And there she lulled me asleep,
And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream’d
On the cold hill’s side.

X.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!”

XI.
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill’s side.

XII.
And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.

CELT 366

I was first introduced to this book of meditations by Robyn. I thought would be another good tool for exploring my Celtic heritage. It can be read a page a day, to last throughout the year (even a leap year), or, as the author, Carl McCulman, says, you can "get wild and swallow up a week or even a month at one sitting."

The pages aren't given dates, just numbers, so you can start and stop anywhere you want. Of course, I was not able to stop at one page, and today I am at Page 30 already, having just gotten the book a few days ago. Page 30 is the final page of the Path of Nature chapter. I thought this paragraph is a very powerful one:

"Whether you are a Celt by ancestry or by the stirrings of your heart, if you embrace the Celtic tradition, you are part of it. Which means that the choices you make, the poems you write, the decisions you come to in your life to honor the natural world, are all part of the ongoing symphony of Celtic mysticism. Celtic spirituality is not a museum installation, it is a living path of insight and illumination. Consider how you can honor the goddess of the land and allow the grace of nature to flow into your life. Then you will become a living conduit of the Celtic way."

There are 40 different chapters, or paths, in the book. Other chapters include The Path of the Fairies, the Path of the Goddesses, the Path of the Druid, The Path of the Warrior, the Path of Dream.

The author also promises that n 366 days (or less!) I'll have "covered a nice slice of the Celtic terrain." However, he warns, I'll still be "an absolute beginner in the world of the Celts."

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Lest any of you think I am loaded with money, I purchase a lot of the books I talk about at amazon.com used books. I haven't been bitten yet, as all of my books have arrived in really great condition for as low as one penny plus shipping. I never go lower than "Very Good" condition but if you don't mind a truly used book you can save even more money. It's also a way to find books you might have read years ago and want to read again.

DANU OF THE IRISH

DANU, RIVER GODDESS

I am the proud owner of Danu, created by Lila at Indigo Pears. When Lila first posted her creation, I fell in love with her. Lila first made Danu as her interpretation of a Celtic goddess in an art doll exchange. She made another doll and posted it on eBay, and I was the fortunate one to purchase it.

Here's how Lila describes Danu: "Standing in the swirling mists from waters, she pours the rivers of the world as they bubble up from her basin. Her cloak is evocative of leather and straw or grass...as she is also the goddess of agriculture and cattle.

I did a little research on Danu before I purchased Lila's doll and that research clinched my decision to buy her. I have always intuitively felt I was of Irish descent but did not know it for sure until two years ago when I learned the identity of my birth father and found out he was half Irish. I was always drawn to the Irish, but finding out that I actually was Irish through HIM made me extremely bitter because he abandoned my mother before I was born. I have been trying to heal this wound through exploring my Irish heritage. Here's what else I found out about Danu:

"Danu is the oldest Celtic Goddess, known also as Don [Welsh]. Her influence spread far across the British Isles and Europe, where the Danube river was named for her. Few stories about Danu have survived, and yet the reverence in which she was held still remains. It is told that those who worshipped her, the Tuatha de Danann (the children of Danu), retreated into the hollow hills of Ireland when Christianity overcame the old ways. There, they became immortal, the Sidhe or fairy folk, and Danu's legend lives on as the Goddess of fairy ways. Danu is the power that is in the land, never to be overcome by mortals. And her power is in the imagination of those who see magic in the twilight mist between the worlds." (http://www.lunea.com/)

Another site said that Danu, also called D'Anu and Dana, is the Mother Goddess or matriarch of the Tuatha de Danann and that all of them are descended from her. About the Tuatha de Danann, one learns that they originally lived on the "islands of the west" (however, some say they came from Norway), and had perfected the use of magic. They traveled on a big cloud to the land that would later be called Ireland, and settled there.

They conquered the Fomorians, a race of giants who were the primordial inhabitants of Ireland. They also defeated the Fir Bolg, another race that inhabited the country, but they were kinder to them and gave them the province of Connaught. Eventually, the Tuatha de Danann were conquered as well, by the Milesians. They went into the underworld, "into another dimension of space and time." Now known as the Sidhe (pronounced shee), they are invisible to humans, except for a very lucky few.

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Danu, mother, queen, life giver

Your sweetness is the salt kiss

where ocean meets land.

You are the wellspring of fertility,

Queen of all Sidhe,

shining jewel of Ireland.

I am enveloped in your mist,

your loving embrace,

a child come happily home.

**********

Those words were written by Katrin Auch, but I feel as I could have written the last three lines. I do feel enveloped in Danu's mist, her loving embrace, and I am a child come happily home to the seat of some of my ancestors, Ireland. That is why Lila's Danu will always have a prominent place in my home.

P. S. I am in the process of thinking about a Spirit Doll thanks to Robyn's challenge. At first I wasn't even going to consider making one, being extremely untalented in the area of fabrics and sewing, but I am pondering ideas. I am taking a spirit doll class in September, but I might even make one before then! She might be a Prairie Goddess, since I have never seen one of those. She will definitely have some sort of connection with nature and the place I live. I already have a sage bundle for her to carry, and some powdered rose petals in a bag to symbolize the prairie rose. That's as far as I have gotten.

BIRTH TOTEM RESOURCE INFORMATION

"WOLF MAIDEN"

David Penfound

For those of you who wanted to know where I found my information about Birth Totems, here is the site:

http://wolfs_moon.tripod.com/birthtotmain.html.

I chose this picture because it makes me feel cool. It was 99 degrees F Saturday, 99 Sunday, 106 today and will be 103 tomorrow!!!

BIRTH TOTEMS

I have been researching totems lately (oh, I am such a beginner on this spiritual quest of mine.) One type of totem is the birth totem. Mine is the woodpecker, or flicker, for people born June 21-July 21, according to Native American spirituality. Flickers such as the one I have shown above live in our neighborhood, and I absolutely love their song. Is that a coincidence? I don't think so.

I was amazed how well the flicker totem fits my personality and how its symbols appeal to me. The totem's flower is the wild rose. Now, I have written about the North Dakota wild prairie rose more than once in this blog. In fact, I have a pressed prairie rose that my mother preserved in a little transparent envelope. On it she wrote, "Julie just brought me this rose. She sure loves flowers! June 1959" The color aspect of my totem is rose. Not to brag, but I absolutely look my best when wearing a rose-colored blouse. My totem's musical vibration is the F natural note. Not being musical, I don't have a clue if this is right, but I bet if someone played me some music that was full of F naturals, I would love it.

My element is water, which I already knew because I am a Cancer, a water sign. My mineral totem is a rose quartz. So that explains why, in the crystal shop the other day, I was drawn to a wonderful, polished, rose quartz, and had to buy it. Robyn has been tutoring me in crystals, and I hadn't planned to buy any until she advised me on the basic (starter) ones to buy, but I was incredibly drawn to this one. (P.S. Robyn says that is okay. More than okay, it is what one should do - respond to a crystal that is calling to you.)

My totem's personality? Emotional, vulnerable but protective. Spot on! My weaknesses: self pity, envy and relying too heavily on others. Oh, my husband can tell you about relying too much on him. But that was early in our courtship/marriage. Now, I am not that way, and I have been trying so hard to conquer those other demons of self pity and envy.

My strengths? Resourcefulness (hmm, dunno), self-acceptance (yes!) and forgiveness. Oh, no! That's where I don't fit the profile. But I am mystified because one of my negative traits is "often unforgiving." Oh, yes, that has been me. So there's a contradiction. My other negative trait, supposedly? Moodiness. I don't really think so. My positive traits? Tender and sympathetic (Certainly, I'd like to think.)

My conscious desire? Emotional stability. Too right. Since my mother was emotionally unstable I look for signs of instability in myself all the time. My subconscious desire? Accomplishment. (I'll have to think about that one.) My spiritual path is "fitting in with the greater good." (I can relate to that.)

Some of the totem traits had no meaning for me, such as "my moon, seasonal aspect and wind direction." I'll have to study such items further. But when I found out that my flicker totem is a member of the frog clan, I quickly googled it and found that there, too, were many, many traits that fit me.

Next, I will write about an animal totem that I have chosen to be my spirit guide.

HARRY POTTER!

Our Harry Potter book came today and the mailman was smiling! We ordered our copy from Amazon.com and they made sure that the book arrived the same day it was available in the stores (albeit not at midnight!). The book warned Muggles not to ship or open the book before today!

At book club the other night my friend Kathy related that her daughter Delaney was reluctant to go to the midnight sale of H.P. at Barnes & Noble last night. Not our Delaney! She who has read all the books over and over, has tons of H.P. memorabilia, has camped out at the movie openings, has gone to H.P. camp??? The Tribune even printed a photo one year of Delaney and her dad, Bob, camping out at the theatre.

Well, it seems some friends of hers have been chiding Delaney, age 14, over her interest in the books. Apparently, she's "too old" for that sort of thing. What kind of friends are those, I ask you? Delaney didn't even go to the opening of the 5th H. P. film. But one night recently Kathy said, "Well, I'M going to the movie. Do you want to come along?" Delaney's reply: "Oh, I suppose." At book club Kathy related that once they were in their seats, Delaney broke down and said, "I'm so excited!"

"Good for her!" we practically shouted. (We get kind of excitable!) "Go home and tell her not to let friends influence her choices and kill the joy in something she really loves." Yes, we be fierce, we CRS women! So, to make a long story short, I hope Delaney was there at B&N last night.

Our daughter, Kristen, was the first in the family to read and love the Harry Potter books, then I read them all, then my husband did. He finished the sixth book a few months ago and has been impatiently waiting for the seventh book to arrive. I remember so well when Ginger, another of my book club friends, was in the hospital and a friend had given her the first book as a get-well gift. "Have you read this?" she asked me. "Oh, heaven's no," I said. "That's a kid's book." I have made many foolish statements in my lifetime (the last one Thursday evening and also related to book club, but I'll tell you that another time.) and this was one of them.

I told Dan that he could read H.P. first as I have a stack of books to read. So there he is out on the deck in 99 degree heat trying to read! I took one step outside with my book (Anne Rivers Siddons' "Sweetwater Creek") and retreated back indoors to the computer, which sits directly in front of the window A/C. Yeah!

Dan of course would never betray the ending to me, and if any TV, newspaper, blogger or friend reveals the ending to me I will - yes I will - rip their lips off!