Some of that has promise, Piffy.
This is the warmest December on record, here, and we're having high winds and a lot of heavy rain.
Shortest day, next week and then we're headed for summertime.
We've a holly in the garden
And I clip it to a ball
But I need to use the ladder now
For it's getting much too tall
Promise? You really think so? Haha.
Your weather sounds like ours. I've always thought the UK and the PNW had a lot more in common than just Victoria, B.C. We've had the wettest November on record - in three weeks we'd beaten the previously set record for the month, and then it continued to rain (and rain and rain). Flooding, etc. What a mess. The winds are gone now but they're predicting gusts of 60 mph this evening. Enough already with the winds, I say.
I'm getting ready to celebrate Mother Night next week -- the darkest night of the year. It doesn't always happen, the moon being changeable and all, but this year there'll be a new moon and the sun is up only one minute more than on the Solstice -- here we'll have 7 hours and 27 minutes of daylight. Summer seems far away.
Oh the ivy's on the pest list here,
Invasive but a lovely green;
So they still sell it in the garden shops
Some folks think that's just mean.
My holly tree was in the way
So I tried to chop it down;
I couldn't cut through the trunk at all,
And the leaves came back all-around.
<cough>
Strange weather here.
Getting into the mid-thirties at night, mid 70's during the day. A 40 degree span.
Ah Piffka my birthtwin! St Lucie's Day used to be the shortest but now they celebrate it on 13th. Incidentally my son's birthday is 13th and his girlfriend is Lucie - a marriage made in heaven?
I love this poem though it is VERY gloomy:
A Nocturnall Upon St. Lucies Day
Being the Shortest Day
TIS the yeares midnight, and it is the dayes,
Lucies, who scarce seaven houres herself unmaskes,
The Sunne is spent, and now his flasks
Send forth light squibs, no constant rayes;
The worlds whole sap is sunke:
The generall balme th' hydroptique earth hath drunk,
Whither, as to the beds-feet, life is shrunk,
Dead and enterr'd; yet all these seem to laugh,
Compar'd with mee, who am their Epitaph.
Study me then, you who shall lovers bee
At the next world, that is, at the next Spring:
For I am every dead thing,
In whom love wrought new Alchimie.
For his art did expresse
A quintessence even from nothingnesse,
From dull privations, and leane emptinesse:
He ruin'd mee, and I am re-begot
Of absence, darknesse, death; things which are not.
All others, from all things, draw all that's good,
Life, soule, forme, spirit, whence they beeing have;
I, by loves limbecke, am the grave
Of all, that's nothing. Oft a flood
Have wee two wept, and so
Drownd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow
To be two Chaosses, when we did show
Care to ought else; and often absences
Withdrew our soules, and made us carcasses.
But I am by her death, (which word wrongs her)
Of the first nothing, the Elixer grown;
Were I a man, that I were one,
I needs must know; I should preferre,
If I were any beast,
Some ends, some means; Yea plants, yea stones detest,
And love; All, all some properties invest;
If I an ordinary nothing were,
As shadow, a light, and body must be here.
But I am None; nor will my Sunne renew.
You lovers, for whose sake, the lesser Sunne
At this time to the Goat is runne
To fetch new lust, and give it you,
Enjoy your summer all;
Since shee enjoyes her long nights festivall,
Let mee prepare towards her, and let mee call
This houre her Vigill, and her Eve, since this
Bothe the yeares, and the dayes deep midnight is.
John Donne
Clary wrote:Ah Piffka my birthtwin! St Lucie's Day used to be the shortest but now they celebrate it on 13th. Incidentally my son's birthday is 13th and his girlfriend is Lucie - a marriage made in heaven?
I love this poem though it is VERY gloomy:
A Nocturnall Upon St. Lucies Day
Being the Shortest Day
TIS the yeares midnight, and it is the dayes,
Lucies, who scarce seaven houres herself unmaskes,
The Sunne is spent, and now his flasks
Send forth light squibs, no constant rayes;
The worlds whole sap is sunke:
The generall balme th' hydroptique earth hath drunk,
Whither, as to the beds-feet, life is shrunk,
Dead and enterr'd; yet all these seem to laugh,
Compar'd with mee, who am their Epitaph.
Study me then, you who shall lovers bee
At the next world, that is, at the next Spring:
For I am every dead thing,
In whom love wrought new Alchimie.
For his art did expresse
A quintessence even from nothingnesse,
From dull privations, and leane emptinesse:
He ruin'd mee, and I am re-begot
Of absence, darknesse, death; things which are not.
All others, from all things, draw all that's good,
Life, soule, forme, spirit, whence they beeing have;
I, by loves limbecke, am the grave
Of all, that's nothing. Oft a flood
Have wee two wept, and so
Drownd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow
To be two Chaosses, when we did show
Care to ought else; and often absences
Withdrew our soules, and made us carcasses.
But I am by her death, (which word wrongs her)
Of the first nothing, the Elixer grown;
Were I a man, that I were one,
I needs must know; I should preferre,
If I were any beast,
Some ends, some means; Yea plants, yea stones detest,
And love; All, all some properties invest;
If I an ordinary nothing were,
As shadow, a light, and body must be here.
But I am None; nor will my Sunne renew.
You lovers, for whose sake, the lesser Sunne
At this time to the Goat is runne
To fetch new lust, and give it you,
Enjoy your summer all;
Since shee enjoyes her long nights festivall,
Let mee prepare towards her, and let mee call
This houre her Vigill, and her Eve, since this
Bothe the yeares, and the dayes deep midnight is.
John Donne
thanks Clary
a real bundle of laughs that Johnny Donney
McT, do you ever listen to Word of Mouth, now late Monday evenings and Tuesday afternoons? Because my pal Matt Harvey is doing a whole programme on peeves like 'begging the question' and various malapropisms. Not sure when, but it's a good programme for such as us.
Such as we?
Thanks Clazza, I have heard it, always regret missing it, and shall look out for it with renewed acuity.
Such as we? Is this the beginning of the "between you and I" peeve?
Clary, St. Lucy's (or St. Lucie's) Day has always been 13 December. And that was the shortest day/longest night of the year for quite a while until Pope Gregory XIII reformed the outdated Julian Calendar in 1582. The problem was that by the late 15th century the Julian calendar, which had been in use heretofore, had drifted behind the solar calendar by about a week. The vernal equinox was occuring around 12 March instead of 20 March as is appropriate. So the Pope decreed that in 1582, 4 October would be followed by 15 October. There were actual riots in some towns by people complaining that they'd been robbed of time, had lost a dozen days, almost a fortnight.
You know the ancient ditty, of course:
Lucy light, Lucy light,
Shortest day, longest night.
What a gift that poem is, Clary, my twin. Thank you.
I do love a nocturne in any form, but the rarified airs of that one are fantastic and perfect for me to read to my sisters & friends while we stand in the labyrinth, candles alit (assuming the rains allow it). I think Johnne Donne would be pleased -- it is a catholic labyrinth -- identical in shape & size to the one in Chartres, but made from commercial salmon netting lines and marked by ferns. We're all saving candle stubs and dried flowers for the yule fire after.
Did you remember that my baptismal name is Lucy? My sister named her daughter Lucy, too? We love that name and this time of year.
(Saint Lucy was known for her men and eye troubles.)
My mother's name was Lucy and, in consequence, we always had a minor celebration on Dec. 13th.
Clary wrote:Such as we? Is this the beginning of the "between you and I" peeve?
Certainly not, and you're quite right of course. It comes from the rest of the sentence, and as The King said
"
Now and then, there's a fool such as I"
I go away for a day or three
Then I check the thread, and what do I see?
No posts, nary a one peeve do I got
You must all be a contented lot
Such as I can be Such as me
It all depends on the case, you see
Tuesday's here, so Clary's broadcast
In the afternoon is approaching fast
If I'm not at the dentist, I'll listen in
I'm sure it will be rivettin'
Now I must get on the phone at nine
To try to book my appointment time.
I've an appointment before eleven to fix my tooth
I'm not too enthused, to tell the truth
Hi M.A. -- Your mother must have been a fine and lovely woman to have such a beautiful name and a wonderful son. I chose the name for myself when I needed to align myself with a saint and am still pleased with my choice.
McT -- Let me see.
"My" absence came from a windy night
A'missing you was I
Neither candle-power nor oil-light
Would make the internet rise.
Here I'm now, I feel your pain
So sorry 'bout the dentist.
I hope you'll feel goo again
And soon enjoy Christmas Adventists.
--whew--
Wishing Clary a happy day last weekend.
I too
Wish you
All the goo
At this festive
Restive season
New
One of mine as I've said before is black America's refusal to learn to speak English properly and insisting instead on ebonics. Listening to the ESPN sports wrap is usually a lesson in how to sell da hos to muh peeps.
cjhsa wrote:One of mine as I've said before is black America's refusal to learn to speak English properly and insisting instead on ebonics. Listening to the ESPN sports wrap is usually a lesson in how to sell da hos to muh peeps.
Sounds like your peeve is with "black America", rather than the English language.
cjhsa wrote:One of mine as I've said before is black America's refusal to learn to speak English properly and insisting instead on ebonics. Listening to the ESPN sports wrap is usually a lesson in how to sell da hos to muh peeps.
Mine is that you haven't learned to speak English as they do in Britain, specifically London. How could you be so ignorant as to actually think you should speak the dialect of English that is common to the area you were raised?
