The melon of Saint Caetano is a startling thing. (Caetano is oddly spelled Cajetan in English, presumably with the j pronounced like a y, but I like the Portuguese spelling better!) It is a lovely dark green, and the deeply wrinkled skin accentuates its glossy sheen.
It is experientially in the category of the jiló, a little green eggplant that is remarkably bitter, but remarkably popular as a food despite the taste.
This little melon, mysteriously named for a saint who founded a bank for the poor, is startlingly bitter, but in a fun way. The first bite is shocking, but if you keep eating it the sensation is no longer shocking, until you eat something else, which will taste unaccountably sweet in contrast!
Yesterday we ate one sliced in little rounds and fried in butter, to much acclaim. Today we ate the other in a salad with brother cucumber and some tomatoes keeping the bitter melon company. (It is called Bitter Melon in English, but that is rather literal.)
In any case, natural medicine sources and the medical traditions of some Asian countries consider it good for what ails you. Western medical sites vigorously deny any use whatsoever. So it’s probably good for you.
It made me think about the wonders of the whole melon-cucumber family, though. Has there ever been such an array of delicious, refreshing fruits, so perfectly suited to being eaten on hot days?
Below, some lovely examples, and these are just showing the rinds. Some other time I’ll round up pictures of the insides:
The old roads in some cities in Minas Gerais (a state in Brazil) are paved with soapstone (per Wikipedia), which perhaps explains these beautifully colored blocks of stone I saw the other day in the city formerly known as São José del Rei (more recently renamed for a guy named Tiradentes).
Some lovely quotes from The Love of Eternal Wisdom, by St. Louis de Montfort.
(from section 33): Apart from considering the different species of angels whose number is well-nigh infinite, and the varied brightness of the stars and the different temperaments of men, we are filled with wonderment at the changes we see in the seasons and the weather, at the variety of instincts in animals, at the different species of plants, at the diversified beauty of the flowers and the different tastes of the fruits.
(from section 34): Eternal Wisdom has revealed these things to the saints, as we learn from their biographies. At times they were so astonished at the beauty, the harmony and the order that God has put into the smallest things, such as a bee, an ant, an ear of corn, a flower, a worm, that they were carried away in rapture and ecstasy.
(from section 35 & 37): If the power and gentleness of eternal Wisdom were so luminously evident in the creation, the beauty and order of the universe, they shone forth far more brilliantly in the creation of man. For man is his supreme masterpiece… We might say that eternal Wisdom made copies, that is shining likenesses of his own intelligence, memory, and will, and infused them into the soul of man so that he might become the living image of the Godhead. In man’s heart he enkindled the fire of the pure love of God…
But alas…
Interesting that he comments elsewhere (reference now forgotten) that one of the effects of original sin is that we are too easily convinced that goodness is not particularly glorious, and that evil is not particularly awful.
A new visitor came to the feeding station on the balcony yesterday. It was some sort of parakeet, with a plumage that seemed lit from within by golden light, like a leaf with the sun shining through it. It was so perfectly beautiful. It ate very quietly for 20 minutes or so before disappearing. It was very unlike the noisy mob of maroon and green parakeets that frequent the feeder.
When I looked it up it turned out to have the unfortunate name of “Plain Parakeet.” What an atrocity. I’ve renamed it “Glorious Sunlit-Leaf-Green Parakeet”.
That’s my blurry phone photo. Here are some professional photos and information:
Listening to a Corelli sonata after lunch it occurred to me that nothing else I listen to on a regular basis comes anywhere near that for beauty. The sound of the wrens singing at dawn is possibly second. Silence is right up there. There are some faint sounds of rain or surf drowned out by other noises during the day. At night they can be gently pleasant Most anything else is beautiful only by association (the sound of a friend’s voice, for instance), not in itself; the rest is simply unpleasant: the sounds of metal being cut, hammering, drilling, honking, wheels on cement, loud motors, the harsh voices and jangling music of advertisements, and so on.
Learning some music this morning was pretty.
But the sonatas aren’t even in the same category. What a treasure to be able to listen to something so beautiful. Here’s some example:
As I was working on the previous post I wrote about how the poetry and old language reminded me of ornament on clothing. In fact, I vaguely remembered some snippets of Scripture that refer to “variety”, with this meaning of elaborate ornament. When I went searching, I found this:
“The daughters of kings have delighted thee in thy glory. The queen stood on thy right hand, in gilded clothing; surrounded with variety.” [Psalms 44:10]
In fact, I was swept into the beauty of the beginning of that Psalm, too, which is (was) chanted at various times in the ancient liturgy of the Church, such as at the clothing of religious sisters, or at the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel and other Marian feasts, and at the feasts of some Holy Virgins, such as Saint Lucy. The chant is titled Eructavit cor meum, if you wish to search further on the subject, you can use this Chant database or other online resources. It goes:
[2] My heart hath uttered a good word: I speak my works to the king; My tongue is the pen of a scrivener that writeth swiftly. [Eructavit cor meum verbum bonum; dico ego opera mea regi. Lingua mea calamus scribae velociter scribentis.]
[3] Thou art beautiful above the sons of men: grace is poured abroad in thy lips; therefore hath God blessed thee for ever. [Speciosus forma prae filiis hominum, diffusa est gratia in labiis tuis; propterea benedixit te Deus in aeternum.] (Source)
And then a bit later is the part about variety (the whole psalm is gloriously beautiful, I am struggling not to post it all!):
[9] Myrrh and stacte and cassia perfume thy garments, from the ivory houses: out of which [Myrrha, et gutta, et casia a vestimentis tuis, a domibus eburneis; ex quibus delectaverunt te]
[10] The daughters of kings have delighted thee in thy glory. The queen stood on thy right hand, in gilded clothing; surrounded with variety. [filiae regum in honore tuo. Astitit regina a dextris tuis in vestitu deaurato, circumdata varietate.] (And there’s the varietate that I was remembering.)
[11] Hearken, O daughter, and see, and incline thy ear: and forget thy people and thy father’s house.[Audi, filia, et vide, et inclina aurem tuam; et obliviscere populum tuum, et domum patris tui.] (You might recognize this as an antiphon chant often found in Marian liturgies and the Masses of Holy Virgins.)
[12] And the king shall greatly desire thy beauty; for he is the Lord thy God, and him they shall adore. [Et concupiscet rex decorem tuum, quoniam ipse est Dominus Deus tuus, et adorabunt eum.]
In any case, in the interest of comparison I was going to post a modern translation, too, but I was appalled to find that it is so changed that though for some scholarly purposes it may be ‘more accurate’ linguistically it destroys my relationship with the Holy Word. When centuries of chant, art, poetry, commentary, and prayer and based on a specific holy text, and millions of believers have lived and loved that text, to toss it out and replace it with something ‘more accessible’ or ‘more accurate’ completely misses the point.
In the interests of love of my Holy Mother Church, here are the two aforementioned antiphons in a variety of musical settings:
The angel I began embroidering is still underway. The text “Gloria” got done and redone several times as I experimented with stitches for the lettering. The wings are currently on their third revision, as there needs to be the right sort of layout of feathers to please my eye, and I had only sketched it loosely. I took out the second try, drew a design more clearly, and am now re-addressing that. Not sure how I might vary the colors. I like the multicolored wings found in many depictions of angels:
Red and white wings for Saint Michael
Red, green and peacock-eyed wings on a Gothic painting of Saint Michael
Blue, gold and Peacock wings on this Saint Michael
Rose and slate gray/blue wings on an Eastern icon of Saint Michael.
There’s an enormous variation in the styles and colors of wings. Mine’s going for green and gold at the moment:
Experimenting with shading, metallic thread, pencil drawing, lettering and hands and faces.
On another note: I’d like to thank Sarah Homfray for her excellent, encouraging and calming series of embroidery videos which I watch repeatedly. And also Steve Young, a horse trainer whose long, real-time videos with chatty commentary are also great company while I stitch.
I really miss being around horses. Today my former trainer sent me a video of my elderly mare. She looks great for her age!!
Joys and sorrows in praise of God 
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