My mother is a walker. Several times a day she heads outside and sets a pretty good pace for a 60 or 70 year old, let alone an octogenarian.
So, when I heard about the Nun Run and Fun Walk at Sacred Heart Villa in Reading last weekend, I thought it would be something different to do for her visit. My friend Dina, my mom, and I went to support Sister Kathleen and her Missionary Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, chalk up a morning workout, and get great Nun Run T-shirts.
Dina ran the course while my mother and I started walking. We soon settled into a comfortable speed beside a woman pushing a double baby jogger. We introduced ourselves to the new mother, a theology professor at Villanova. (She couldn’t pass up a “Nun Run” either.) I asked the names of her 8-month-old twins.
“Thomas and Campion,” she replied.
Now my menopausal mental state has me forgetting names of good friends, recipe ingredients, and the location of my Turkey Hill 52-cent-refillable coffee mug. I’ve never been one to memorize poems or speeches or even titles of books – why waste the effort when I can “look it up”? But, in a voice much smoother than my own, the Fleur-de-Lys spirit flowed with the words, “Thomas Campion … There is a garden in her face, where roses and white lilies grow … I can’t remember the rest.”
I shocked myself and I know I stunned the professor!
I was walking forward, but backpedalling fast. “Um, I love that quote because it reminds me of my daughter. We have an old building on our property and the slate roof had to be replaced so I recycle the slates for garden signs with my favorite quotes. The Thomas Campion quote is right next to the hammock, so I recite it to myself while I rest in the shade.”
When I got home, I decided if I was waxing poetic Campion I needed to Google the chap. It turns out Thomas Campion was a Renaissance Englishman (1567-1620) , a poet, medical doctor, and author of a book on music theory. He also wrote 100 songs for the lute in the Books of Airs (also spelled Ayres). The Fourth Book of Airs includes, “There Is a Garden in Her Face.” And now, almost 400 years later, there are two little boys in Pennsylvania, Thomas and Campion, and a lute song singing farmer, Laurie Lynch.
There Is a Garden in Her Quilt: Quilter Valerie, a weekly customer from Bethlehem, tells me she is always working on a quilt. But the quilt she is working on right now reminds her of Fleur-de-Lys, a patchwork of gardens, with sunflowers and a sun, birdhouses, and a central cathedral window. Can’t wait to see it.
Hamburg Sauce: That’s the name of the version of sauce Holly’s PA Dutch grandmother used to make, similar to last week’s Club Sauce. “She used it on everything, that is, if she wasn’t using horseradish on it already.”
You Say Potat-O, I Say Po-tot-O: My daughter Marina tells me that the French equivalent of “yum” is “miammmmm.” We’ve got potatoes at Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market this week, as well as garlic, shallots, peppers, tomatoes, basil, eggs, squash, beans, kale, and chard. Miammmm! Stop by and see our giant luffas too.
Keep It Local, Get It Global: I don’t “do” Facebook, and life in that fast lane blissfully passes me by … most of the time. After reading about the plight of Kutztown’s La Cocina Mexicana, in a recent F-d=L newsletter and then scanning Facebook, or whatever one does with Facebook, my daughter zipped off a few highlights of an upcoming FUNd-raiser via Skype chat from Brussels.
A Keep It Local event will be held in the parking lot of La Cocina Mexicana, 107 W. Main St., Sunday, Oct. 3, from noon to 5 p.m. This event is run by locals to support local businesses and build a sense of community, as well as to show local pride in being different. The info she sent explains, “Let’s face it, this town has characters, and we want those characters there.” The goal is to make the event “odd/off-the-wall/weird”. So, the day will include everything from mime to mariachi with lots of festive folks and fun, including a Pizza Pinata!
Written in Slate: There is a garden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies grow;
A heavenly paradise is that place
Where in all pleasant fruits do flow. Thomas Campion
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