Letters from Ascension Hermitage and Sanctuary

Simon likes to keep an eye on me at my desk, and then when he's sure that I'm intent on continuing with boring-to-a-cat work, he's quick to return to his cat nap!  

Today at Christ Church Cathedral in Houston, we remembered in thanksgiving the life of Mary Winifred Beale Harris, one of my second great-grandmothers. She actually died on September 25, 1871. She died before any of her grandchildren were born, and there were few, if any, family stories about her. Her husband, Joseph Adams Harris, was 20 years older than she and died the same year their youngest child was born. Together they had six children: Joseph Adams Harris, my great-grandfather; Mary Winifred Harris and George Washington Harris who died as infants; and then Charles, Ellen, and Annette. She was from Washington, D.C., and her husband from Boston, but their life together was lived in Houston, Texas, just across the street from the Episcopal Church - now the Cathedral - where they were members. He was a liquor salesman, a profitable job at the time. I don't really know much about her, except that she took community property very seriously. In her Will, she divided the half of her...

Just like big wild cats at a favorite watering hole, little house cats meet now and then for a drink! Most of the cats come, drink, and go on to some other activity - but Flicka loves to lie down, contemplate the water, sometimes splash a little, and then take a long drink . . . there is nothing wrong and she's not even a lazy cat, but this is her morning routine and she's sticking to it!  

  September 5th was the anniversary of my mother's death - or as she would have said her entry into larger life, on the brighter side of death. She died in 2020, just a few weeks shy of her 98th birthday. A long-time choir director, she knew The Hymnal 1940  backwards and forwards and had an excellent grasp as well of The Hymnal 1982 . And so, this morning, when the radio program With Heart and Voice  played this hymn, I immediately thought of her, because when she was quite old and often feeling weak, she told me that its third verse was a comfort and encouragement! The hymn is #541 in The Hymnal 1982 , but in case you don't have that book at hand, here are the words, written by Jane Borthwick (1813-1897): Come, labor on. Who dares stand idle on the harvest plain, while all around us waves the golden grain? And to each servant does the Master say, "Go work today." Come, labor on. The enemy is watching night and day, to sow the tares, to snatch the seed away; while we...

No doubt, when people mention Fall colors they are usually thinking of yellow, red, orange, and even brown. But here on the Eastern shore we might also think white! Sweet Autumn Clematis often takes over everything. Non-native and invasive, it grows everywhere - yes, it is beautiful . . . and you can spend hours cutting and pulling it down (I do that every Autumn) only to have it return the following Spring. It has totally taken over in my wildflower area, so we'll probably mow that area next year. In the meantime, as I said, it is beautiful!  

And this cat is Fergus! He is very feral but knows when he shows up that I'll feed him. He sometimes stays under the building next door and at other times disappears for days or even weeks at a time. I named him Fergus because it means the strong one and also because in my Ancestry searches, I am trying to find information on one of my third great-grandfathers. I know for sure that he existed (I'm here!) and he's named in family history books, but there is little other proof. He was born in/about 1785 in Pennsylvania . . . no good birth records there. And I believe he died in 1812 - no good records there either and no grave.  To those who love puns, yes, I realize that Furgus might be a better spelling for a cat name, but for now I'm sticking with Fergus!