Rosemary Ruffenach's blog
Too many people have died
by Rosemary Ruffenach, September 22, 2009 •
“Yes, n how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?”
-- from Blowin’ in the Wind by Peter, Paul and Mary MORE »
Berry pickin’
by Rosemary Ruffenach | August 10, 2009 • Blueberries, Gooseberries, Raspberries—Red and Purple. Eventually, no matter how urgent my other Saturday tasks, I have to heed the siren call of berry picking. It’s one of my summer traditions, and if missed, fall and winter breakfasts are less tasty. But in fact, that’s not really what my berry-picking expeditions are all about.
When I was a kid, about every ten days in July and August, we’d get a call from my grandmother saying the raspberries were ready for picking.MORE »
A Minnesotan in the Mideast: Veiling
by Rosemary Ruffenach MORE »
“Turn! Turn! Turn!” (to everything there is a season)*
by Rosemary Ruffenach MORE »
Décor deficiencies
by Rosemary Ruffenach • August 25, 2008 • Psychologists tell us that moving to a new home is one of the most stressful of life events. New neighbors, new routines, new routes to work all tax our coping systems, which is why I had postponed a move that I knew was inevitable. But, as August arrived, I thought I was mentally ready to meet these life challenges. What I hadn’t been warned about was facing my own inadequacies in home furnishing.
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The perfect time to fall in love . . .
by Rosemary Ruffenach, 6/9/08 • “There is someone out there for everyone,” began the essay. Yeah, yeah. “It was the perfect time to fall in love,” Emma’s memoir continued. I sighed. The memoir assignment routinely elicited tales of teen-age love lost, as well as of childhood accidents, disastrous first jobs and best friends gone missing. However, in the next sentences I realized this story was different. It was the perfect time for love to appear, said Emma, because right then her problems were so gigantic that it seemed they would never get better. Drugs? Abuse?
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Yearbook treasures
by Rosemary Ruffenach, 5/18/08 • While May brings thoughts of romance, garden improvements, new fishing gear, or surcease of the primary campaign season to most Minnesotans, for me this year it means the yearbook advising assignment. Now, until recently, I hadn’t paid much heed to these trophies. Back in high school, I made sure my senior photo displayed me to proper advantage and that I was pictured in at least one extra-curricular activity (journalism). I purchased a copy and stored it away; not even my own children have looked at it since.MORE »
Great-grandma’s fur coat
by Rosemary Ruffenach, 2/18/08 • As coats made from the pelts of animals go, it probably wasn’t that expensive; it wasn’t mink , beaver, sable or even fox. Rather it came from the sacrifice of brown rabbits, their pelts subsequently dyed black. I inherited it from an aunt three years ago, and until this winter, had only worn it for Christmas Eve service. Even wearing it once a year had elicited protests from my daughter, though she couldn’t threaten not to be seen with me on Christmas—that would be carrying PC too far.
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Two Saturdays
By Rosemary Ruffenach, February 2008 • Rosemary Writes • The lure of a fresh snowfall and reasonable temperatures was irresistible—finally. I hauled out my cross-country skis and began waxing. The last two winters had brought so little snow that my skis had been relegated to a dark corner of the basement to gather cobwebs. With Christmas festivities, work obligations and temps in the polar wax range (white), they remained sulking in the corner this season until that last Saturday in January.
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Waiting for an angelic visit
It was one of the best sermons I ever sat through—and counting myself as a ‘regular church-goer’, I’ve sat through a lot, most not memorable.
Looking out at the blowy snow on Sunday morning, I was tempted to just skip the service. But then I reminded myself that it was the fourth Sunday in Advent, and Advent is my favorite liturgical season. For me it’s all about Mary, maternity, and waiting.
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