Moyen Âge

4 years, 290 posts. It's been fun, but I think it's time to move on to greener pastures.

Thanks for reading y'all! Yippie-kai-yay!

When the day is alther lengest,
And the hete of the sonne is strengest,
Aboute mydsomer—as ȝe wele wote—
The day is long, the sonne is hote:—

The Land Troy Book

Y'all have a great Midsummer, ya hear?

P.S. Happy Birthday Asher! (my nephew turns one today)

The night before last, my wife and I saw David Byrne in concert yet again — we caught him in Albuquerque last September and twice in California in October. He's still on tour, so this time we took my mother-in-law. Great show!

And for Midsummer, here's a "lazy, hazy...summer" pic of the currant bushes casting shadows on the living room window:

Merry Midsummer!

And here's a lovely, wistful poem I found on mcco12's blog:

They've Come

Today my mother and sisters came to see me.

I'd been alone a long time
with my verses, my pride...almost nothing.

My sister, the oldest one, has grown up,
she's a blond; her first dreams are passing
before her eyes. I said to the youngest one:
"Life is sweet. It all ends badly."

My mother smiled as people
who know souls well usually smile;
She put both her hands on my shoulders,
looked hard and long at me
and I suddenly began to sob.

We ate together in the warmest room
in the house.
A springtime sky...
All the windows were open so we could see it.

And while we calmly talked
of so many old, forgotten things,
my sister, the youngest, interrupted:
"The swallows are passing..."

Alfonsina Storni (translated by Marion Freeman)

Here's a teaser for Annie Leonard's fabulous 20-minute educational film,
The Story of Stuff:

I highly recommend it. Read about it in the NY Times and watch the whole thing at storyofstuff.com.

Monday morning, my wife and I awoke at 5:30am, ate breakfast, gathered our gear, and drove an hour up the windy* road to Jack's Creek campground in the Pecos Wilderness. As we approached the campground, we saw a mama deer with three fawns.

From the parking lot, we hiked up the horse trail (which is much prettier than the foot trail) to one of our favorite meadows. I don't think we've ever been up there this time of year. It was the greenest we've ever seen it (though it might not look very green to those of you living outside the Southwest):

From there, the side-trail continues through dry grassy clumps and soon rejoins the main trail:

On a bit through the woods, the trail reemerges into a long grassy meadow. Most of the aspens were still leafless:

Back in the woods, we saw several ptarmigans (at least I think that's what they were) grouse:

We continued along the frequently soggy and very occasionally snowy trail, searching for the connecting trail marked on my map (dated 1982), which we never found (my wife thinks it's time to update my 27-year-old map). So we just continued straight along to Beatty's Creek and the nearby Pecos River valley overlook:

By then, roughly six miles in, we were both hot and tired, so we turned back. We saw more ptarmigans grouse, another deer, and a small herd of elk on our way back. We also got really foot-sore and sunburned.

That night, we were asleep by 8:30pm, and I slept till 7:30am the next morning.

For the interested, here's a Google map of our path, marked with way-points.

* "windy", as in "winding", not "breezy"

Wow, tomorrow it'll already be May, 2009. I feel like I'm living in the future.

To celebrate "this fresshe first day of Maye" or this not-so-fresh last day of April, I give you three snippets of Mayish Medieval poetry:

In a somer sesun, / whon softe was the sonne,
I schop me into a shroud, / as I a scheep were;
In habite as an hermite / unholy of werkes
Wente I wyde in this world / wondres to here;
Bote in a Mayes morwnynge / on Malverne hulles
Me bifel a ferly, / of fairie, me-thoughte.
I was wery, forwandred, / and wente me to reste
Under a brod banke / bi a bourne side;
And as I lay and leonede / and lokede on the watres,
I slumbrede in a slepynge, / hit swyed so murie.

William Langland, Piers Plowman, Prologue
Via English poetry (1170-1892)

~Modern English~

In a summer season, / when soft was the sun,
I clad myself in a shroud, / as I a sheep* were;
In habit as a hermit / unholy of works
Went I wide in this world / wonders to hear;
But in a May's morning / on Malvern hills
I befell a wonder, / of fairie, me-thought.
I was weary of wandering, / and went me to rest
Under a broad bank / by a brook side;
And as I lay and leaned / and looked on the waters,
I slumbered in sleeping, / it sighed so merrily.

*Or shepherd

As I seyde erst, whanne comen is the May,
That in my bed ther daweth me no day
That I nam up, and walkyng in the mede
To seen this floure aye in the sonne sprede...

Chaucer, The Legend of Good Women, Prologue
Via English poems

~Modern English~

As I said earlier, when May has come,
That in my bed there dawns no day
That I am (not) up and walking in the meadow
To see this flower in the sun spread...

For more Chaucer (in Middle English and Modern), check out eChaucer.

To longe for shame, and all to longe trewly,
Myn hert y se thee slepe in displesere,
Awake, this day, awake, o verry fy,
Lete us at wode go geder may in fere,
To holde of oure old custome the manere,
Ther shall we here the birdis synge and play,
Right as the wood therwith shulde forshyvere,
This joly tyme, this fresshe first day of Maye.

Charles of Orleans, Poems
Via The Gentleman's magazine and Chaucer to Spenser

~Modern English~

To long for shame, and all too long truly,
My heart I see thee sleep in displeasure,
Awake, this day, awake, For shame!
Let us to the wood go gather May together,
To hold of our old custom the manner,
There shall we hear the birds sing and play,
Right as the wood therewith should shiver,
This jolly time, this fresh first day of May.

Happy May Day everybody!

This Earth Month, it seems a lot of people are worried about the economy. Take one example: "MoveOn's Top Priorities for 2009" include, in order of perceived importance:

Regarding #2 & #3, I'd like to quote Anthony Cortese of Second Nature: "The economy is a wholly owned subsidiary of the biosphere." Gore and others have been been saying the same sort of thing for some time now — and it's obvious if you think about it — but I'm not sure Joe Public has fully grasped the idea, and I'm not sure why. Is it just too hard to believe that me might actually run out of oil or water? Are we so focused on next quarter's profits and next week's paycheck that we can't be bothered to look down the road a bit? Is climate change just too big and (relatively) slow-moving to get a handle on? Do people not believe climatologists' predictions?

I'm currently reading The Last Hours of Ancient Sunlight which really hammers home the point that we are on an unsustainable trajectory (energy, water, etc.). As Paul Hawken, of Smith & Hawken, succinctly states, "We have an economy where we steal the future, sell it in the present, and call it GDP [gross domestic product]." But I am pleased to see signs of hope. Obama and this Congress seem to be taking steps in the right direction. I just hope it's not too little, too late.

But enough about climate, blah, blah, doom and gloom. It's Spring! Primavera! Printemps! And although it snowed here over Easter weekend, it does seem rather springy. The snow melted off right away, plants are budding, and it's pleasantly cool-warm and sunny.

It's perhaps a little early for this, but here's a snippet from Gene Wolfe's The Fifth Head of Cerberus that captures the warmth of spring/summer:

The musked exhalation of late spring or early summer crept through the shutters, and the fire in our little grate seemed to extinguish itself for shame almost at once. My father's valet opened the window for me and there poured into the room that fragrance that tells of the melting of the last snows beneath the deepest and darkest evergreens on the north sides of mountains.

And what better reminder of spring than bees...

The ancients believed that a flower's nectar came directly from heaven. Drops of firmament fell into waiting cups and bowls made of petals or were placed there by deities like Iris, the divine messenger and rainbow goddess. All the bees had to do was gather up these heavenly drops and "ripen" them in wax combs as honey. That's why Roman naturalists like Pliny called honey "the saliva of the stars."

Peter Bernhardt, Natural Affairs, as quoted in Letters from the Hive: An Intimate History of Bees, Honey, and Humankind

Here, specifically, is what Pliny (and Aristotle) wrote:

Honey comes out of the air, and is chiefly formed at the risings of the stars, and especially when the dogstar itself shines forth, and not at all before the risings of the Pleiades, in the periods just before dawn. Consequently at that season at early dawn the leaves of trees are found bedewed with honey and...whether this is the perspiration of the sky, or a sort of saliva of the stars, or the moisture of the air purging itself...nevertheless it brings with it the great pleasure of its heavenly nature.

Pliny, Natural History, book 20

The honey is what falls from the air, especially at the risings of the stars and when the rainbow descends. On the whole there is no honey before the [morning] rising of the Pleiad... Honey [the bee] does not make, it fetches what falls.

Aristotle, Historia Animalium 5.22, as quoted in the fascinating article, The Ash Tree In Indo-European Culture*

Honey may not be "the perspiration of the sky", the "saliva of the stars", or "the moisture of the air purging itself," and honey may not fall "from the air...at the risings of the stars and when the rainbow descends," but I love the sentiment.

Here's another bit on bees from Virgil:

When the golden sun has driven winter
under the earth, and unlocked the heavens with light,
from the first they wander through glades and forests,
grazing the bright flowers, and sipping the surface of the streams.

Georgics, Book IV

I don't normally read poetry. I suppose I'm more of a find the poetry in a line from a novel or lyric from a song sort of guy. But I do occasionally stumble upon a poem or hear a bit of poetry (nowadays, pretty much all of my poetry exposure comes from the fab radio program To the Best of Our Knowledge). Just the other day, while listening to their program "Poetry Instead", I was struck by this Emily Dickenson quote:

If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?

Is there any other way, indeed!

Oh yeah, Happy Hocktide!

———

* I was not aware, until I read the article, that certain varieties of Ash produce a honey-like substance called "manna." For much more Ash-honey folklore/mythology, read the article:

I know an ash-tree known as Yggdrasil...The dew which falls from it to the earth is called honey-dew by men, and the bees feed on it.

The Prose Edda

I'm on a mini-Indian kick with Ka: Stories of the Mind and Gods of India and The White Tiger. I'm about a third of the way through Ka, and loving it. It's dreamy, trippy, mystical, philosophical...a wandering stroll through Hindu mythology, written by the Italian writer Roberto Calasso (translated into English by Tim Parks). Then just last night I started the 2008 Man Booker prize winner, The White Tiger, whose main character, Balram Halwai had me chuckling right away. I think I'm going to like it.

I also just started East Wind Melts the Ice: A Memoir through the Seasons, a lovely Chinese/Japanese/Californian year's journal/almanac/memoir by anthropologist/novelist Liza Dalby, "the only American woman ever to become a geisha" (hmm...did I use enough slashes in this sentence?).

The Last Hours of Ancient Sunlight: The Fate of the World and What We Can Do Before It's Too Late: I've had my eye on this book ("one of the fundamental handbooks of the environmental activist movement") for quite a while. It's a bit depressing, but also an interesting, informative, and inspirational call to action.

The Raw Shark Texts: After reading Stefanie's review at So Many Books, I had to pick this one up.

There Is a God: How the World's Most Notorious Atheist Changed His Mind: As an agnostic believer, I enjoy the heated debate stirred up by the New Atheists (Dawkins, Dennett, Harris, etc.). This book by British philosopher Antony Flew seemed just too intriguing to pass up.

Blackfoot Physics: A Journey into the Native American Practice: New Scientist calls this "the modern version of [1975's] The Tao of Physics," which I always meant to read, but never quite got around to. Theoretical physicist F. David Peat compares/contrasts mainstream Western/scientific thought with indigenous Blackfoot thought. I love this sort of stuff.

Dolphin Mysteries: Unlocking the Secrets of Communication: I picked this up at The Ark, a fun little New Age-y bookstore. You might be picturing Atlantis and psychic communication, but no, it's actually just a straightforward book on dolphins written by two non-New-Age-y marine biologists.

Unbelievable: Investigations into Ghosts, Poltergeists, Telepathy, and Other Unseen Phenomena, from the Duke Parapsychology Laboratory: Another pick from The Ark bookstore. I've been interested in Western/scientific investigations of the paranormal for quite a while now (cf. Ghost Hunters, Life Before Life, etc.), so this was a natural fit.

And musically, I recently discovered and became an instant fan of Eef Barzelay, on-again-off-again soloist/lead singer of Clem Snide. Here's a video of Eef's "Lose Big". Check it out...and if you like it, Clem Snide's currently on tour, so maybe you can catch them live.

My mom came to visit a week or so ago. Whenever she visits, we invariably end up at the bookstore, and she always buys me a stack of books. The trend began when I was about twelve years old. She'd take my brothers and me down to the bookstore and buy us Tintin comic books, Caldecott award winners (I still love Sylvester and the Magic Pebble), and the Newbery award winners we didn't already own. I remember with much fondness gathering a stack of books in Denver's massive Tattered Cover bookstore while on summer vacation.
Then there was Austin's BookPeople, and nowadays it's B&N or the downtown Border's.

This time, my mom decided she wanted to start a family literature lending library, made up of National Book Critics Circle Award winners, Pulitzer Prize winners, Man Booker Prize winners, and various classics. So we printed off award lists, scoured the shelves, and filled our basket. When it was all over, we had several decades worth of award winning literature...and a mountain of reading ahead of us. Will we read them all? I don't know. Perhaps we went overboard (it's tempting to say we went utterly, insanely overboard), but I'm hopeful. As a family, I think we'll read the majority of them. My mom is particularly interested in the Pulitzers, I'm drawn to the Bookers, my wife leans toward the classics...toss in my dad, my brothers and their wives, and who knows, we might just pull it off.

As of today, I've read one Booker Prize winner (Life of Pi) and four Pulitzers (The Road, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, To Kill a Mockingbird, and The Grapes of Wrath). That leaves only 78 Pulitzers and 40 Bookers to go... *gulp*

I got this one from Stefanie at So Many Books.

Name 25 writers who have influenced you. These are not necessarily your favorite writers or those you most admire, but writers who have influenced you. Then you tag 25 people. (25 people?!? Who's going to tag 25 people? But do feel free to play along if you like.)

1. Hergé (Georges Prosper Remi)
2. James Thurber
3. Ursula K. LeGuin
4. J.R.R. Tolkien
5. C.S. Lewis
6. Lloyd Alexander
7. Madeleine L'Engle
8. Susan Cooper
9. Ray Bradbury
10. Frank Herbert
11. Tom Brown
12. Frank Miller
13. Brothers Grimm
14. H.P. Lovecraft
15. Lewis Carroll
16. Joseph Campbell
17. Philip K. Dick
18. Neal Stephenson
19. William Gibson
20. Vicki Robin + Joe Dominguez (Your Money or Your Life)
21. Ronald Hutton
22. Connie Willis
23. Barry Unsworth
24. Myla Goldberg
25. William James

These are in rough chronological/life order, and like Stefanie said, it was harder than I originally expected it to be. I came up with about fifteen right away, then stalled out. With the last ten or so, I had a hard time trying to determine the "influence" of any given author. I kept getting stuck on influential ideas/subjects/philosophies rather than influential authors, but I'm more or less satisfied with the list. I've got two comic book writers, lots of fantasy and sci-fi authors, and a handful of others. Make of it what you will.