AUTUMNAL THOUGHTS

“Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that's where you renew your springs that never dry up.” - Pearl S. Buck

Some days dawn and find us in a quiet, introspective mood, which remains with us for their length. Such was today and even now, well into the night my mood of this morning still keeps me company. I haven’t been very good company today and although we got lots done, my words were scarce and my thoughts were whirling inside my head.

My usual daily routine is to wake up early and go for a walk for about an hour. Today was no different and I walked down to the Yarra River, which is only about 20 minutes walk from our place. The morning was cool and the paths by the river deserted. The sun rising in the east coloured the horizon a golden yellow and the river water flowed slowly, almost imperceptibly. Long shadows by the river banks trailed the flow of the water and the boats fro rent by the Fairfield Boathouse were neatly lined up, all tied to the riverbank. A few lone ducks were swimming and I sat and reveled in the quietude of the hour, the crispness of the air and my rather gray mood.

Soon it was time to walk and start the day off, which looked as though it was to be another warm one.

For Music Saturday, Tchaikovsky’s “October - Autumn Song” from “The Seasons” Op.37 played by Dong-Hyek Lim. In keeping with my morning mood of introspection.



Enjoy your weekend!

RUSSIAN ROULETTE

"One man's meat is another man's poison." – Proverb

Russian roulette is a well known “dare”, which can be played by people who get their thrills in all sorts of dangerous and life-threatening ways. This practice of loading a bullet into one chamber of a revolver, spinning the cylinder, and then pulling the trigger while pointing the gun at one's own head is an activity that is potentially very dangerous and not infrequently (in 16.7% of times, in fact) fatal. But how exciting, how thrilling, how delightful if you survive, say its adherents!

Now for those of you that do not like to play with guns in order to get your thrills, there are other ways and many of them involve food. It is well known that many people who go and gather wild mushrooms (even the experienced ones) may sometimes pick the occasional poisonous one. The other complicating factor is that some people may eat a wild mushroom type with no toxic effects, while others may have violent reactions after consuming the same type. See this link...

For centuries the Japanese have enjoyed the highly prized tasty fish known as fugu. This is the Japanese name for certain species of puffer fish or blowfish (eg: Takifugu rubripes), which, though considered delicacies, contain a poison so toxic it can kill. It is imperative that fugu be cleaned and prepared properly that entire books have been written on the subject. The fish contain lethal amounts of the poison tetrodotoxin in the internal organs, especially the liver and ovaries, but also the skin. In commercial Japanese kitchens, where this fish is used in both sashimi and nabemono preparations, only specially trained and qualified cooks may deal with fugu. Even so, there are several cases of fugu poisoning in Japan annually. See this!

A rather rare but horribly fatal disease associated with consumption of tainted food is known as botulism. This is a rare but serious paralytic illness caused by a nerve toxin that is produced by the bacterium Clostridium botulinum. Foodborne botulism is caused by eating foods that contain the botulism toxin and can be fatal. Foodborne botulism can be especially dangerous because many people can be poisoned by eating a contaminated food. Deaths have resulted after people have simply taken a bite of a contaminated food just to taste it.

Foodborne botulism has often been associated with home-canned foods with low acid content (eg: asparagus, green beans, beets and corn). However, outbreaks of botulism from more unusual sources such as chopped garlic in oil, chilli peppers, tomatoes, improperly handled baked potatoes wrapped in aluminum foil, and home-canned or fermented fish. Persons who do home canning should follow strict hygienic procedures to reduce contamination of foods. Oils infused with garlic or herbs should be refrigerated. Potatoes which have been baked while wrapped in aluminum foil should be kept hot until served or refrigerated. Because the botulism toxin is destroyed by high temperatures, persons who eat home-canned foods should consider boiling the food for 10 minutes before eating it to ensure safety. Butlism outbreaks have also been linked to improperly sterilised commercially canned foods.

Botulism toxin is the most potent biological toxin known (a single gram of the toxin, if properly distributed, could kill a million people) and is a well-known potential threat in acts of terrorism. A vaccine has been developed against this toxin, but it is not produced in large quantities and mass vaccinations with it are not carried out. All sorts of interesting possibilities for crime/thriller novel plots spring to mind, where the murderer manages to vaccinate himself and invites the victims to dinner serving up some canned asparagus with botulism toxin dressing…

Many people (me included!) love to go out into countryside, the forest or even urban parklands and collect wild herbs and greens that can be used for food. It is amazing how bountiful nature is and how many delicious wild plants, herbs, nuts, berries, fruits and fungi can be used as delicious and wholesome supplements to our diet. The one important proviso of course, is that you have to know what you are doing, as it is easy to pick the wrong plant! For example fiddleheads are the young shoots of the Ostrich fern found growing in clumps in marshland. They are delicious and generally considered safe. But to the uninitiated, the young shoots of bracken fern could look very much the same. To the initiated, however, bracken shoots are seen to grow singly and are spread out over a dry area. Bracken has been found to be carcinogenic and should not be eaten. (Ostrich Ferns are particularly easy to recognize as they have spore bearing dark brown fronds rising out of the clump; the bracken does not).

Some plants are not toxic themselves, but become dangerous only where there is danger of contamination by insecticides, fertilisers, herbicides, traffic fumes, industrial effluent, runoff from farmland. Though thorough washing of the plants is necessary, this will not always get rid of contaminants, so the area where the plants are collected should be studied carefully. Watercress is a good example of a plant easily contaminated and it should not be collected from areas where there is danger of a runoff from farmland, for example.

Some plants contain toxic parts or may need special procedures to render them non-toxic. We can enjoy young rhubarb stalks, but the leaves are poisonous as they contain high concentrations of oxalic acid. Potatoes which have been left exposed to light and turned green also have toxic properties as they accumulate the toxin solanine. The green part should be removed before they are used, or if there is too much greenness, the whole potato should be discarded. Those familiar with Pacific island cuisine, know of the root vegetable taro. In its raw form the plant is toxic due to the presence of calcium oxalate, although the toxin is destroyed by cooking or can be removed by steeping taro roots in cold water overnight.

Much more important and serious, as well as more prevalent of course, as a means of poisoning ourselves with our food is concerned, is the slow toxic effect of an unhealthy diet. Foods rich in cholesterol and saturated fats, low in fibre, highly processed, containing additives are a ticking time bomb and are implicated in many diseases. A diet low in fresh fruit and vegetables, high in red meat, with excessive use of pickles, smoked and salted foods is also unhealthy. Not to mention the even more common problem of overeating and obesity, lack of exercise and a generally sedentary existence…

Eat well, eat little, exercise daily, take care of yourself, do as much good as you can, laugh and smile often, be happy, live well…

FOR PHILLIP

“The most authentic thing about us is our capacity to create, to overcome, to endure, to transform, to love and to be greater than our suffering.” – Ben Okri

The email message I received was short, to the point, almost business-like. I had to read its simple words several times in order for their import to sink in:

Hi Nick, I have some very sad news indeed. Phillip took his own life a couple of days ago. I'm going to the funeral this coming Saturday. I’m devastated. Just thought you would want to know…

This email from overseas, about one of our common friends. This is the sort of news that hits you in the gut and winds you. No easy way to break such news, no easy way to read it, cope with it, no easy way to live with it for the survivors close to the suicide. In the wake of such news one tries to rationalise the irrationality of the act. One tries to understand the incomprehensible. One attempts to forgive, to make excuses for, to deal with an act that leaves in its aftermath such intense pain and desolation.

Phillip was a middle-aged man, divorced for a couple of years now, with two grown-up children. He was a gentle, kind man, softly spoken. He worked with people with special needs and enjoyed his job. Since his divorce he withdrew into his shell and lived a solitary life, becoming depressed and difficult to engage with. His manner always polite, but his usually chatty humorous emails became shorter, mundane; written more as chore than as a means of communication. His mother died last year and this was another terrible blow, as he adored her. He had some counselling and seemed to finally come out of the dark place his life had become.

He visited Australia in the middle of last year. His smile was not forced, not disingenuous but distant. His eyes never seemed to smile. In retrospect the seeds of this, his last act, were already sown and we, perhaps, should have suspected something. It is so difficult not to feel guilt, so hard to dispel the complicity one senses in the wake of such an act.

He was grateful to his friends here during his visit, and his goodbyes when he left to go back home have become so much more significant now, in hindsight. A life cut short prematurely, a great waste, his pain too immense to be borne. How can one put oneself in Phillip’s position and replay his last thoughts? What jet-black despair could drive someone to commit this act of murder against oneself? Could it have been prevented? What could have been done? What a terrible waste!

Suicide was a criminal act in many countries in the past, it still is in a few. If it is considered thus, then one can understand the opinion of those who consider the suicide to be a coward. If we do not consider suicide a crime, then it may be argued to be the mark of a courageous and brave person who chooses this way to rid society of his perceived useless presence, and free himself from all feelings of suffering and peril. The religious person views suicide as the ultimate act of godlessness, the gravest sin, a mortal offence. The cleric’s prohibition may be enough to stay the hand of the devout, but a mind unhinged by weakness of faith, lack of purpose, great depression, dejection and despair will not be stopped by thoughts of God.

Phillip, I do not blame you, nor accuse you of a crime. You were neither brave nor a coward. You were sick with loneliness and despair, you found yourself in some deep dark alleyway with no exit and acted in a way that your tortured mind dictated as the only effective and permanent solution to some problem, that perhaps the choice of life would have proven to be temporary. I wish there had been some way to help you, I wish I had been closer, I wish you talked to me about it.

Vale, Phillip.
I hope that you are now in some happier place…

NIPPED IN THE BUD

“True Friendship is like sound health; the value of it is seldom known until it be lost.” - Charles Caleb Colton

The virtual world of 360 is a strange one, sometimes funny, at other times sad, perhaps distressing or maybe even frightening, but always interesting. It is a microcosm fashioned in the likeness of reality and one may find in it all of the human types one may encounter in one’s immediate neighbourhood. I always take people at face value and try to be as honest as I can be without betraying confidences, by respecting sensibilities and by protecting those whom I love. However, even with such a policy how often is it that what we write here can be misinterpreted, misconstrued, misunderstood? How often is it that what a reader reads will reflect what he or she wants to understand, rather than what we write simply, honestly and without artifice?

How much more clearly can I say to people than this: “I am not here to search for a partner, a wife or a lover”? Is there any better way to say to someone: “If you do not allow replies to messages sent from your blog, I cannot reply”? Or how much more clearly can one say the following: “I cannot add you to my friends list as I have reached the maximum number of friends allowed by Yahoo”? One tries to be gentle, considerate, polite, urbane, tactful and respectful of others, and one may reap abuse and inarticulate ramblings in reply.

I am blogging here because I like to share some of my thoughts with others. What I know I wish to share with others. I think that what I write here may interest a small number of people and many of you have become dear friends, even though may thousands of kilometres separate us. In the past I had more time to enjoy reading many more of my friends’ blogs. My work and personal commitments lately have meant that I have had to curtail much of that agreeable activity. It is hard enough to keep up with writing my daily blogs sometimes, but I persist as they are a welcome break from my busy schedule and a way of resting my mind. An intellectual meditation in a sphere distant from my everyday mental gymnastics at work. A noetic workout that relaxes me and clears my mind from the matters at work that demand much care and responsible decision-making.

I wrote this poem recently and dedicate it to lost friends, here on Yahoo 360.

Of Friendship Nipped in the Bud

I smiled as my open hand I stretched,
My gift so generous, was misconstrued,
And from a giver, I was made a mendicant.

A singing bird my heart was perched
On greenwood branch; but soon the warble rued
My wings were clipped, I turned into a flightless elephant.

To share with joy, all my possessions fetched,
But my offerings were thrown out and strewed
And my frankness - dismissed as mere cant.

You yearned for love, I offered companionship
You searched for passion’s fire, I gave you fellowship.
Just as the flower of friendship was to bloom,
You nipped it in the bud - now emptiness, now gloom
Where bright flowers could have been.

PINK WITH PURPLE SPOTS LIT

“Of all things upon earth that bleed and grow, A herb most bruised is woman.” – Euripides, ‘Medea’

I have blogged before about “Chick Lit” or “Pink Lit”, a genre of fiction aimed at a predominantly female market and whose plots often feature a plucky heroine searching for her place in a big city while holding down a trendy job and possibly juggling a bit of romance. "Bridget Jones's Diary" by Helen Fielding is a typical example, "The Bachelorette Party" by Karen Lutz, "Family Trust" by Amanda Brown, "Man Eater" by Gigi Levangie Grazer, "The Devil Wears Prada" by Lauren Weisberger, "The Nanny Diaries" by co-authors Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus, Sophie Kinsella's "Confessions of a Shopaholic" and "Bergdorf Blondes" by Plum Sykes are all other notable examples. What started it all, I guess, was Helen Gurley Brown’s "Sex and the Single Girl" published in 1962 and was representative of the newly-found power of the independent young woman making it on her own in the big city. Here is how some authors of “Chick Lit” define their genre. Chick Lit of course has its opponents, and this article by Elisabeth Sheffield is worth reading.

Having read a few of these novels upon recommendation, I can say that I have enjoyed some, have disliked many, have been neutral about quite a few. If nothing else, this type of fiction presents an interesting perspective of the female mind, and is quite revealing of the place many women see themselves as occupying in these post-feminist days of equal opportunity, affirmative and life-changing legislation, and supposed endless prospects for success in the professional and personal fields of women’s lives.

I have recently finished reading Wendy Holden’s “Bad Heir Day”, a typically British “Chick Lit” novel, although I would tend to describe it as “Pink with purple spots lit” rather than “pink lit’. Why? It is quite funny (especially if puns and sometimes quite wry and dry humour amuse you) but there is also a sense of the tragic in some of its comedy, in the sense of what hurts most we tend to trivialise or joke about in order that we survive it.

In a nutshell the plot revolves around Anna, who is an aspiring writer and whose gorgeous boyfriend, Sebastian, is an unfaithful, snobbish, priggish, thoroughly nasty piece of work. Dumped by him, Anna jumps from the frying pan into fire when she takes a job with Cassandra Knight, a romance writer with writers’ block whose gin consumption far exceeds her written output. Anna thinks that being Cassandra’s assistant will be a marvellous opportunity to learn from a published writer. Cassandra thinks that Anna’s job (regardless of what they agreed on) is to do all the housework and take care of her spawn of Satan son, Zak, all the while dodging her lecherous, has-been rock star husband.
Anna works like a slave simply because she has no choice, but this does have its advantages; she finally drops that lasts 10 pounds and learns all about the exotic nanny subculture. Eventually, she meets handsome Jamie, Laird of Skul, who whisks her away to his ancestral castle in Scotland. Its just like a fairy tale but all is not well in Skul… Here is Wendy Holden talking about her book:



Overall, this book was amusing and light and tongue-in-cheek. I don’t know whether I’d want to read many more such books, especially after having read another such novel by Wendy Holden, “Pastures Nouveaux”. Pastures Nouveaux is described on the cover as "A Comedy of Country Manors" and this heralds a collection of other cringe-worthy puns and wordplays that can get tiring. Although neither book taxed my grey matter too much in the reading (hmmmm, rather like junk food for the brain, maybe?), such novels can become repetitive and too much dependent on formulaic plot development and stock characterisation.

As far as the plot outline for “Pastures Nouveaux” is concerned: Cash-strapped Rosie and her boyfriend Mark are city people longing for a country cottage and the romance of country living. At the same time, dreadfully nouveaux-riches Samantha and Guy are also searching for rustic bliss - a mansion complete with mile-long drive, manicured lawns, upstairs maids and gardeners. The village of Eight Mile Bottom seems quiet enough, despite a nosy postman, a reclusive rock star, a glamorous Bond Girl and a ghost with a knife in its back. But there are unexpected thrills in the hills. The local siren seduces Guy while a “farmer fatal-e” rocks Rosie's relationship. Then a mysterious millionaire makes an offer she can’t refuse. But should she? Once again, here is Wendy Holden talking about her book:



What do you think of “Chick Lit”?

MOVIE MONDAY GALORE!

“Cinema is the most beautiful fraud in the world.” - Jean-Luc Godard

I have been rather remiss with Movie Mondays in the last couple of weeks as the festivities of the Christmas/New Year period rater got in the way of my routine. However, this does not mean I have not been viewing movies and you’ll be pleased to know that I’ll make up for lost time by reviewing several good movies we have watched over the past couple of weeks. I was busy catching up with the recommendations of several people and of course, the gift exchanges of the holiday period meant that I could answer the question: “What would you like me to buy you as a present?” quite simply with: “Such-and-such DVD…”

Firstly a wonderful film from Spain/Mexico, Guillermo del Toro’s, “Pan’s Labyrinth” (2006). This is a dark and highly original film where reality and fantasy mix seamlessly to create an absorbing but grim fairy tale set in Spain at the conclusion of the Spanish Civil War. It is a very violent film and some of the images are quite disturbing, but at the same time it is tender and shows with delicacy the emotions, fears and concerns of a teenage girl who finds herself in an extremely unpleasant situation, moving into a country house with her stepfather and mother is who is expecting his child. A highly imaginative film, which uses fantasy and a dream world to poignantly highlight the immense political and social problems of post-civil war Spain.
My rating: 8/10. Genre: Fantasy/Historical/Drama. Cautions: Violence/Graphic images

The uplifting New Zealand film “Whale Rider” (2002) of Niki Caro, had been on our DVD shelf for a couple of years now, and we finally got to watch it yesterday. This is a beautifully filmed and well-related tale of a coming of age of a young New Zealand girl, Paikea, who is being brought up by her grandparents. Her grandfather, a Maori chief is for years mourning the loss of Paikea’s twin brother (at birth), on whom he had pinned all his hopes for succession of the leadership. This is Paikea’s story and how through her determination and willingness to fight against tradition she succeeds in achieving acceptance by her grandfather, who represents the old traditions, and of how she becomes his hope for the future. Keisha Castle-Hughes who plays the young Paikea is a pleasure to watch and her acting is simply magnificent.
My rating: 7.5/10. Genre: Coming-of-Age Drama. Cautions: Have your tissues handy.

A beautifully atmospheric film that combines elements of adventure, romance and a distinct period feel is “The Illusionist” (2006). The film is set in 19th century Vienna and the central story is the impossible romance between a duchess and an illusionist, a stage entertainer. Add to that, the insane antics of Crown Prince Leopold of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, a persecuting police inspector and some neat magic tricks and the film becomes rather fresh and entertaining, where one would expect it to be stale and sickeningly saccharine sweet.
My rating: 7/10. Genre: Quirky Romantic Drama/Mystery Thriller. Cautions: None really, lightweight and enjoyable.

Mira Nair is an Indian director who became well-known with her 2001 film “Monsoon Wedding”. We watched an equally powerful and well-filmed story, “The Namesake” (2006), last week. The plot revolves around a gripping family saga beginning with an arranged marriage in Calcutta, the story follows the transplantation of the newly-married couple to new York and their trials and tribulations as they raise their family in this foreign land. The story becomes that of the firstborn son, Gogol, who has to grapple with his father’s seemingly cruel choice of a name for him, that of the rather morbid Russian novelist Nicolai Gogol.
Mira Nair has said of this film that it was her most personal project as she herself lived in Calcutta for 12 years and then in New York City for 25 (the 2 cities that the characters in the film travel between as well). This is a wonderful film that I too was rather sensitive to as I am a man of two homelands and a person whose life has been coloured by living in quite culturally diverse environments.
My rating: 8/10. Genre: Culture-Clash Drama. Cautions: Some confronting themes.

ART SUNDAY - FOLLIES 5

The Stowe Gardens in Buckinghamshire, England is a delightful place for the Folly hunter as it contains tens of these structures in all sorts of styles.

The Hermitage is a short walk along the shore path, of the Eleven Acre Lake from the Cascade. It is a stone rusticated pavilion built by William Kent in 1731, made from very large stones, one of its two little towers being carefully ruined. Above its little arch doorway is a pediment, on which there is a faded carving of panpipes and a wreath.

Inside the structure, are three semi circular benches, within arched niches, where one could sit in the gloom, and contemplate. This particular Hermitage never actually housed a hermit, as some other 18th century Hermitages really did. But oddly, there were few hermits actually willing to take up residency in such abodes, another example of this being Jack Fuller's Tower in West Sussex, and many a true hermit had to be actually paid by the builder to reside in them. Hermits were often bound to live under very strict rules, no talking, no washing or shaving, or cutting of the hair and nails. If, after living this way for a given number of years, the happy hermit, perhaps with a beard now as long as his arms, could be made into an honourable gentleman…

ART SUNDAY - FOLLIES 4

James Pulham and Son were eminent landscape gardeners and creators of follies of the 19th and early 20th centuries, and are now most widely remembered for the spectacular rock gardens they created in many country estates around the United Kingdom, including the Royal Estates at Sandringham and Buckingham Palace, and the RHS Gardens Wisley. James Pulham obtained his first Royal commission in 1868. Mr Broderick Thomas, the Prince of Wales' Head Gardener at Sandringham, had dug out two artificial lakes, and contracted Pulhams to build 'Waterfalls, rocky stream, and cave for boat house' on the bank of the largest one, near the house.

There must also be a possibility that Pulhams did the actual construction work on the lakes themselves, since this is exactly what they did at Dunorlan Park, in Tunbridge Wells, for Henry Reed, a few years earlier, but no confirmation of this is available.

This is a picture of the main lake, with the boatcave, and 'The Nest' folly in the background. The lower layers of the boathouse rockwork are locally quarried carstone, but the massive blocks above are Pulhamite.

ART SUNDAY - FOLLIES 3

Tucked away in the quiet village of Caerwent, not far from Chepstow, in Monmouthshire, is the Dewstow Golf Club, owned and run by the Harris family, who used to farm this land. At one time, the house and estate belonged to a rich, but rather eccentric recluse named Henry Oakley. He bought it in 1893, and lived there until his death in 1940, after which the property passed through various hands until it was eventually broken up into 'parcels' during the 1950s.

Most of these parcels were sold individually as houses and smallholdings, but the main bulk of the estate was made up of Dewstow Farm and Dewstow House - with the portion on which stood Dewstow House being rather like a slice in the 'cake' of Dewstow Farm. The farm was purchased by W E Harris and Son, while Dewstow House was sold separately. The Harris family continued to farm the land until 1987, when they decided to diversify, and 'take a swing' at the golf industry. The Dewstow Golf Club opened its doors in August 1988, and has expanded progressively since that time. Meanwhile, Dewstow House came back onto the market in 2000, and was purchased by the Harrises, with the result that the whole estate is now back together again, almost in its entirety, for the first time in sixty years.

But all this is simply background history. What really matters is that, when Elwyn Harris, and his two sons, Mark and John, started to examine their new property in greater detail, they noticed something rather strange in the garden and grounds. There were pieces of rock projecting from parts of the soil - some close to the house, and some further away, down the slope towards the road. This was intriguing, and they decided to look further. They very carefully began moving the soil away, and, as they did so, more rocks were uncovered. And the more soil they moved, the more rocks they found - so what was going on? Was it a natural fault in the ground strata, or had they stumbled across some major archaeological discovery?

In fact, it was neither of these, because they then noticed that some of the rocks had their corners chipped off, and, beneath the natural-looking surface, there appeared to be bricks! They were artificial! They were Pulhamite. Thankfully, the Harrises decided to proceed with great care and caution, and eventually uncovered not just a very large surface rock garden, complete with streams, cascades and pools, but a labyrinth of underground tunnels, caves, grottoes, ferneries and follies!

This garden is something very special and unique, and we must be grateful to its new owners for its restoration, which they hope to complete sometime during 2004. Here is the Lion Grotto, with walls and columns covered in tufa, and a profusion of planting pockets.

ART SUNDAY - FOLLIES 2

Here is another Pantheon wannabe at Stourhead, which is is typical a Garden Folly, an Architectural Ornament of Landscape Design. It was created by Colen Campbell (d. 1729). Campbell published Vitruvius Brittanicus (1715), sponsored by Boyle, along with two more volumes published in 1717 and 1725. He also published important editions of Palladio’s Four Books.

ART SUNDAY - FOLLIES 1

"An Englishman never enjoys himself, except for a noble purpose." - Alan Patrick Herbert

I had a rather tiring couple of days this weekend as we decided to buy and install a gazebo in our back yard. About 20 years ago we had put in a small garden arch and as it was collapsing under the weight of the plants growing on it, it was high time to replace it. We went looking at various garden centres and we were surprised by the variety and wide spectrum of prices for these manifold structures that one can put up in the garden. We ended up buying a moderately priced gazebo in aluminium with a canvas roof and a surprisingly big area (as I found out after assembling it!).

I went through the usual rigmarole of trying to interpret the instructions, you know the sort: “Insert part A in the large hole of part B, using screw X and nut Y, taking care not to obstruct channel C or hole F through which you need to thread part D after attaching E and G with screw Z…). Nevertheless, I managed to erect the gazebo and at about 2:00 pm today we were able to sit in its shade and admire the garden while sipping a cold drink.

Quite apt for Art Sunday, therefore to consider the type of garden structure called a “folly”. This is a peculiar building, usually costly and ornamental with no practical purpose whatsoever, especially something like a tower or mock-Gothic ruin built in a large garden or park. The large English-style gardens of the 18th century were quite renowned for these follies and if one visits the English countryside and the various stately homes and gardens that abound there, one will no doubt see follies galore!

Many follies in England were constructed in imitation of renowned buildings of the continent, (especially Italian and Roman) which were constructed in miniature (of course!). This picturesque garden with a folly paying homage to the Pantheon s the work of Lord Burlington (1694-1753) and can be found on the grounds of Chiswick House, Middlesex (which was begun 1725).

TWELFTH NIGHT

"O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and hear! your true-love’s coming." Shakespeare

Today is Epiphany Eve and Twelfth Night, tomorrow being Twelfth Day. As Epiphany Eve was associated with the arrival of the Magi, in many countries children expected to be left gifts in their shoes or stockings. In Italy, an ugly but kind witch, called La Befana, came and distributed sweets and presents to the good children. In Syria, children were brought presents by the smallest of the Magi’s camels. This is because according to tradition, the other two camels lost their determination and strength on the way to Bethlehem and they were about to give up. The smallest camel, however, refused to give up and was rewarded by Jesus with immortality for its belief in Him.

The Twelfth Night of Christmas: Tradition has it that Christmas celebrations are to end today and decorations should be taken down on this day. However, a sprig of holly should be retained in the house to protect the occupants against lightning. Twelfth Night celebrations were once very popular and traditionally, this night was one of the merriest in the Christmas season. Twelfth Night parties were held everywhere, ostensibly to celebrate the arrival of the Magi in Bethlehem, however, many of the traditions surrounding the Night’s celebrations were pagan in origin.

A Twelfth Night cake was baked and a single bean was hidden in it. The person who found it in his piece became the Bean King for the Night. This tradition hails back to the Roman Saturnalia where a King was chosen by lot. The bean was a sacred seed in ancient times. A pea was sometimes baked in a cake in order to choose a Twelfth Night Queen, also. These cakes have now merged with the tradition of the Christmas Cake and the Christmas Pudding (the latter which may contain the silver sixpence to determine the lucky one amongst its consumers.

At the Twelfth Night party, it was customary to draw cards, on which were represented certain stock pantomime-like characters, exemplifying humorous national traits, for example, Farmer Mangelwurzel, François Parlez-Vous and Patrick O’Tater. People had to act out the part of their chosen character and also submit to the humorous “commands” of the Bean King. Much laughter, good humour, fine food and drink were expended on these occasions.

Here is a scene from Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night”, with Feste’s Song (just be a little patient!):



O Mistress Mine

O Mistress mine where are you roaming?
O stay and hear! your true-love’s coming
That can sing both high and low;
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journeys end in lovers’ meeting—
Every wise man’s son doth know.

What is love? ’tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What’s to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty,—
Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty,
Youth’s a stuff will not endure.

William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

LET'S BAKE A TWELFTH NIGHT CAKE

“Feast, and your halls are crowded; Fast, and the world goes by.” - Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Today is the tenth day of Christmas and in preparation for tomorrow, the Twelfth Night Cake should be made today. This is a huge recipe for a BIG cake, but remember it is a traditional one and recipes of the 19th century tended to cater for a cast of thousands. You can halve or quarter the recipe for smaller cakes:

TWELFTH NIGHT CAKE

Ingredients
2 pounds butter (≈ 900 g)
2 pounds loaf sugar (≈ 900 g)
1 large nutmeg, grated
1/4 ounce (≈ 7 g) each of ground cinnamon, allspice, ginger, mace and coriander seed
18 eggs
1 gill (142 mL) brandy
2 pounds sifted flour (≈ 900 g)
4 pounds currants (1.8 kg)
1/2 pound chopped blanched almonds (≈ 225 g)
1/2 pound candied orange/lemon peel (≈ 225 g)
1/2 pound candied citron peel (≈ 225 g)
1 bean (whole) and 1 pea (whole)

Method
Put the butter in a warm pan and work it to a cream with your hand. Add the sugar and beat well to dissolve it, then add the spices finely ground. Break in the eggs one by one, beating well for at least twenty minutes. Stir in the brandy, the flour and work it in a little. Next add the fruit and nuts, mixing well. Put the mixture in a baking tin and put in the bean and pea in separate places. Bake in a slow oven for four hours and then ice it or decorate it according to your fancy. The man who chances upon the slice with the bean would be the King of the Bean for the Twelfth Night, while the woman who chanced on the pea would be the Queen of the Pea. If a man found the pea, he could chose the queen, and vice versa for the woman who chanced upon the bean.

The royal pair then direct the rest of the company in merriment. They assign the revelers ludicrous tasks or require them to behave in ways that are contrary to their usual roles. In France, every action of the royal pair is commented upon and imitated with mock ceremony by the entire company, who shout "the Queen drinks," "The King laughs," "The Queen drops her handkerchief!"

This twelfth night of the twelve days of Christmas is the official end of the winter holiday season and one of the traditional days for taking down the Christmas decorations. This is also a traditional day for wassailing apple trees. In southern and western England, revelers gathered in orchards where they sang to the trees, drank to their health, poured hot cider over their roots, left cider-soaked toast in their branches for the birds and scared away evil spirits with a great shout and the firing of guns.

The ancient Roman tradition of choosing the master of the Saturnalian revels by baking a good luck bean inside a cake was transferred to Twelfth Night. In Italy, the beans were hidden in focaccia rather than a cake: Three white beans for the Magi and one black one. Whoever found the black bean was made king and could choose his queen and rule the banquet. In colonial Virginia, a great Ball was held on this night. The King wins the honour of sponsoring the Ball the following year; the Queen the privilege of making next year’s Twelfth Night Cake.

If you want to celebrate Twelfth Night in an appropriately medieval way, try these instructions from Robert May in his “The Accomplisht Cook” (1665):

"Make the likeness of a Ship in paste-board, with flags and streamers, the guns belonging to if of Kickses [odds and ends], bind them about with packthred, and covere them with course paste proportionable to the fashion of a Cannon with Carriages, lay them in places convenient, as you see them in Ships of War; with such holes and trains of powder that they may all take fire; place your Ship firm in a great Charger; then make a salt round about it, and stick therein egg-shells full of sweet water; you may by a great pink take out all the meat out of the egg by blowing, and then fill it with rose-water. Then in another Charger have the proportion of a Stag made of course paste with a broad arrow in the side of him, and his body filled up with claret wine. In another Charger at the end of the Stag have the proportion of a Castle with Battlements, Percullices, Gates, and Draw-bridges made of pasteboard, the Guns of Kickses, and covered with course paste as the former; place it at a distance from the Ship to fire at each other. The Stag being plac't betwist them with egg-shells full of sweet water (as before) placed in salt. At each side of the Charger wherein is the Stag, place a Pie made of course paste, in one of which let there be some live Frogs, in the other live Birds; make these pieces of course paste filled with bran, and yellowed over with saffron or yolks of eggs, gild them over in spots, as also the Stag, the Ship, and Castle; bake them, and place them with gilt bay-leaves on the turrets and tunnels of the Castle and Pieces; being baked, make a hole in the bottom of your pieces, take out the bran, put in your Frogs and Birds, and close up the holes with the same course paste; then cut the lids neatly up to be taken off by the Tunnels: being all placed in order upon the Table, before you fire the trains of powder, order it so that some of the Ladies may be perswaded to pluck the Arrow out of the Stag, then will the Claret wine follow as blood running out of a wound. This being done with admiration to the beholders, after some short pawse, fire the train of the Castle, that the peeces all of one side may go off; then fire the trains of one side of the Ship as in a battle; next turn the Chargers, and by degrees fire the trains of each other side as before. This done, to sweeten the stink of the powder, let the Ladies take the egg shells full of sweet waters, and throw them at each other. All dangers being seemingly over, by this time you may suppose they will desire to see what is in the pieces; where lifting the first the lid off one pie, out skips some Frogs which makes the Ladies to skip and shreek; next after the other pie, whence comes out the Birds; who by a natural instinct flying at the light, will put out the candles: so that what with the flying Birds, and skipping Frogs, the one above, the other beneath, will cause much delight and pleasure to the whole company: at length the candles are lighted, and a banquet brought in, the musick sounds, and every one with much delight and content rehearse their actions in the former passages.

OF OLIVES AND CAROLS

"Except the vine, there is no plant which bears a fruit of as great importance as the olive." – Pliny the Elder

Today is the ninth day of Christmas, so I hope your true love gave to you nine ladies dancing. Here are the twelve day gifts, just to remind you:

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me Twelve drummers drumming, Eleven pipers piping, Ten lords a-leaping, Nine ladies dancing, Eight maids a-milking, Seven swans a-swimming, Six geese a-laying, Five golden rings Four calling birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree!

Just in case you were wondering about these unlikely presents, there is some hidden religious symbolism in these lyrics:
True Love refers to God. The Turtle Doves represent the Old and New Testaments. The three French Hens refer to Faith, Hope and Charity, the Theological Virtues. Four Calling Birds are the Four Gospels (and/or the Four Evangelists). The Five Golden Rings represent the first Five Books of the Old Testament (the "Pentateuch"), which give the history of man's fall from grace. The six Geese A-laying refers to the six days of creation
while the seven Swans A-swimming refers to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven sacraments. The
eight Maids A-milking refers to the eight beatitudes. The nine Ladies Dancing refers to the nine Fruits of the Holy Spirit, and the Lords A-leaping refers to the Ten Commandments. The eleven Pipers Piping refers to the eleven faithful apostles, while the twelve Drummers Drumming refers to the twelve points of doctrine in the Apostle's Creed.

The olive tree, Olea europaea, is the birthday plant for this day. An olive branch has long been the universal symbol of peace. In China, for example, a traditional way of making up after a quarrel is to send the aggrieved person an olive wrapped in a piece of red paper as a sign that peace has been restored. In Greece, an olive branch was a traditional gift for the New Year, a token of peace and goodwill. The dove that returned to Noah’s Ark after the deluge, carried in its beak a sprig of olive, which Noah interpreted as a herald of peace, safety and salvation.

The ancient Greeks recounted the following legend regarding the origin of the olive tree: When Athens was first populated, the citizens were looking for a god to become its patron and to give his name to the City. Two gods vied for the naming rights, god of the sea, Poseidon who wanted the City called Poseidonia, and goddess of wisdom, Athená, who wanted the City named after her. In an offer of goodwill, Poseidon, the god of the sea, struck his trident on the rock of the Acropolis and a fountain of salt water gushed out. Athená reciprocated by striking her spear on the rocky soil, out of which sprung the olive tree bearing olives. The name of the City has since then been Athens, the city of Athená. On the Acropolis there is an ancient olive tree, reputedly the same one that Athená gave to her city...

To dream of a fruiting olive tree is a particularly good omen as it signifies the successful completion of a project with delightful results. To dream of olive oil is equally propitious as it implies great wealth and prosperity. Eating olives in a dream, on the other hand, signifies frugality and days of scarcity ahead.

olive |ˈäliv| noun
1 a small oval fruit with a hard pit and bitter flesh, green when unripe and brownish black when ripe, used as food and as a source of oil.

2 (also olive tree) the widely cultivated evergreen tree that yields this fruit, native to warm regions of the Old World. • Olea europaea, family Oleaceae (the olive family). This family also includes the ash, lilac, jasmine, and privet.

• used in names of other trees that are related to the olive, resemble it, or bear similar fruit, e.g., Russian olive.

3 (also olive green) a grayish-green color like that of an unripe olive.

4 a metal ring or fitting that is tightened under a threaded nut to form a seal, as in a compression joint.

5 (also olive shell) a marine mollusk with a smooth, roughly cylindrical shell that is typically brightly colored. • Genus Oliva, family Olividae, class Gastropoda.
adjective
grayish-green, like an unripe olive : a small figure in olive fatigues.
• (of the complexion) yellowish brown; sallow.
ORIGIN Middle English : via Old French from Latin oliva, from Greek elaia, from elaion ‘oil.’

Jacqui BB is hosting Word Thursday.

AUTOPSY

“Take away love, and our life is a tomb.” - Robert Browning

I was asked recently if my scientific training influences my creative writing. The answer of course has to be yes, as my mind is an all-encompassing maelstrom that mixes and merges all, then boils and distils, fractionates and remixes all manner of images, facts, imaginings and words. I have shared with you in the past a couple of such pieces, here is another poem whose images draw heavily upon a medical metaphor.

Autopsy

Each time the door of my chamber closes
I see the white bed-sheets stretch in front of me
Like a marble dissecting-table of an autopsy room;
And I lie there, alone, awaiting like a corpse, the anatomist
Who will dissect my deathly-cold flesh.

He cuts the frigid skin, in vain searching
For the reason of my unexplained necrobiosis,
The cause of my curious living death.
His hand, sure and experienced cuts, and with his eye impassive
He exposes my withered heart, atrophied but still beating.

He prosects and lays open each of its ventricles
Looking for clues, traces of some dreadful pathology;
But as he slices the icy muscle he observes its curious beatings.
He discovers a grain of past happiness still alive in its demise,
And smiles satisfied that he has shown the aetiology of my deathly life.

With what surprise he then demonstrates the shrivelled remnants of my soul
That still cling to executed hopes, deceptive wishes, unfounded fancy.
And as he lays bare my essence, stripped of its transparent membrane,
And observes its insubstantial parenchyma,
He witnesses its last, wild flight before its irreversible destruction.

His scalpel cuts tendons, severs muscle, his sure hand crushes bone
And annihilates cartilages so as to expose the convoluted cerebrum,
The fern gardens of the cerebellum, proving beyond doubt:
Logic has triumphed, brain rules, thought prevails
And perishable flesh has been vanquished, most inhumanly.

The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp is a 1632 oil painting by Rembrandt housed in the Mauritshuis museum in The Hague, the Netherlands. Dr. Nicolaes Tulp is pictured explaining the musculature of the arm to medical professionals. The corpse is that of the criminal Aris Kindt, strangled earlier that day for armed robbery. Some of the spectators are various patrons who paid commissions to be included in the painting. The event can be dated to 16 January 1632: the Amsterdam Guild of Surgeons, of which Tulp was official City Anatomist, permitted only one public dissection a year, and the body would have to be that of an executed criminal.
Sans Souci hosts Poetry Wednesday, please visit her blog for more poetical flights of fancy.

NEW YEAR'S GRATITUDE

“Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us.” - Hal Borland

The first day of the New Year finds most us in a rather subdued mood. Maybe it is all the revelry of the night before, maybe the alcoholic excesses (or other indiscretions), maybe the review of the year that has just been and gone and the realisation that we are rather lacking in resolve. This may explain the habit that many people have on such a day to make yet another new year’s resolution (and one which usually comes in one year and goes out the other!). I have never been one to make such New Year’s resolutions, but rather I have always liked to look back over the previous year and try to find five or six things that I would like to remember and feel thankful for or proud about. Things that have made this past year one that I would like to press like a flower between the leaves of the book that is my life.

This year has given me much contentment, many things that I feel thankful for. Firstly I am thankful for the life I lead in a country that is generous with its bounty, one where peace abounds and where I can live without worries about where my next meal is coming from or where I shall lay me down to sleep each night. I have a roof over my head, a table that has a meal on it every day and a job that supplies me with all that I need to satisfy my material necessities. How many millions and millions of people around the planet have none of these things that most of us have and take for granted?

The second thing I am deeply thankful for is my family. People that I love and love me, people that make my house a home, people that put a smile on my face, people whose arms are open when I need solace, those who comfort me and support me. They deserve my gratitude and even though I may say thank you to them often enough and even though my deeds may give them proof of my thanks, this written affirmation is also needed, I feel…

Next, I am grateful for my friends. Not only those friends around me that live here in this City, in this country, but friends I have made and whose faces I have never seen, whose hands I have never clasped in friendly greeting. The benefits of technology that allows us all to become neighbours in a global village are surely worthy of appreciation, and to all of you, my 360 friends and acquaintances I extend a grateful greeting for all of your fellowship and companionship in this past year!

This year has been another that I have been blessed with good health. In my job, where disease and death are everyday companions, I know how to value health highly. How many people around me are plagued by ill-health, how many live in constant pain, how many others have diseases that require treatments that are almost as bad as the illnesses they try to cure? How many people waste away and die, not being able to enjoy life? If you have health, you have one of the greatest gifts and you should be truly thankful for this bounty that life bestows on you.

I am proud that in this past year I have been able to make the world a little better for a few people, some close to me, some far away, some known to me some unknown. I am in the fortunate position of being able to help others and do so whenever I can. We do not realise fully the benefits of giving unless we have been in a situation of want and need ourselves. I have been there, and have been helped by other people, something that I never forget. When I help others I feel as though I am helping myself to become a better person and that I am repaying those were generous to me in my hour of need. Keep in mind that giving does not always involve money and worldly goods. One may give one’s time and one’s help, a kindly word – charity is love and to love other people is the basic teaching of most of the world’s major religions.

In retrospect, the year has been a good one. I look forward to the next and I will treasure all that 2007 has given me. I hope 2008 will give me a chance to move forward, but the only way to move forward is to be conscious of the past and learn from history, not only in a general sense, but also in a personal one.

The first of the New Year gives us an opportunity to tally up our successes and failures, to give our thanks, to ask for pardon, to make our amends. A New Year is our chance to be reborn, as Charles Lamb maintains: “New Year's Day is every man's birthday.” A fool repeats the same mistakes twice, a madman repeats them ad infinitum, while the wise learn from their mistakes and eschew them in the future. May your New Year be one full of the contentment of the realisation of one of your expectations, the fulfillment of one of your dreams, the achievement of one of your desires. Each moment of our lives is a gift and gifts must be enjoyed. Use your time wisely, for you are the master of your own destiny.

A happy New Year! Grant that I
May bring no tear to any eye
When this New Year in time shall end
Let it be said I've played the friend,
Have lived and loved and labored here,
And made of it a happy year.
Edgar Guest

What do you have to be grateful for in the year that has just been?

"Each age has deemed the new-born year the fittest time for festal cheer." - Sir Walter Scott

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

A very Happy New Year to all my friends here on
Yahoo 360.

May 2008 be full of health, happiness and prosperity for you!

ART SUNDAY - HANS HEYSEN 2

“Mystic Morn”: This is a large oil painting (122.8 cm x 184.3 cm) by Hans Heysen (1877-1968). Painted in 1904, it shows a small group of cattle threading their way through a group of saplings early in the morning. The cattle are entering the picture from the left and lead the eye towards a distant clearing that is just visible through the thicket of trunks. In the foreground is a shallow pool.

Sir Hans Heysen was born in Germany but was raised in Australia after his family moved there when he was six years old. He worked mostly out of Adelaide and became a leading figure in Australian art history.

ART SUNDAY - HANS HEYSEN 1

“Red Gold”: This is a 1913 oil painting by Hans Heysen (1877-1968). It captures a moment at the end of the day as a herdsman takes his cows home down a country road. In the foreground are two massive gum trees, behind which are stands of gums that stretch away towards a distant line of hills. The golden light, which floods the entire landscape, and the long raking shadows that run across the road and up the tree trunks, suggest that it is late afternoon - the sky has purplish tints often associated with this time of day. The herdsman can just be seen at the far right of the picture. The two cows at the rear of the herd are disappearing around the base of the large gum on the left, leaving the centre of the work almost empty.

ART SUNDAY - ART GALERY OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA

We took the bus back to the city and as it was extremely hot we decided to spend the afternoon in the Art Gallery of South Australia. We always visit this wonderful gallery when we are in Adelaide and the art on display is truly magnificent. The Gallery collects and displays art from Australia, Europe, North America and Asia. The Gallery has one of the largest art museum collections in Australia, numbering around 35,000 works. The collections span the period from Ancient Rome to the present day, and include paintings, sculptures, prints, drawings, photographs, textiles, ceramics, glass, metalwork and jewellery, and furniture. The collections are displayed by both culture and medium, providing visitors with a historical and cultural framework with which to view them.

The Australian collection presents a comprehensive survey of Australian art from around 1800 to the present and showcases the nation’s art history through paintings, sculpture, prints, drawings and photographs and decorative arts, with a strong commitment to Australia’s Indigenous art. The European collection ranges from the late fifteenth century to the present and also includes a wide-ranging and representative collection of British art. The Asian collections represent countries from throughout the region, including Cambodia, China, Indonesia, Iran, Japan, Thailand and Vietnam.

Our favourite works are those by the Australian artists of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the “Australian Impressionists”. Noteworthy amongst them are Arthur Streeton, Charles Conder, Tom Roberts, Frederick McCubbin, Jane Sutherland, Walter Withers, but also, Hans Heysen, an artist with German roots who spent most of his life around Hahndorf. The gallery has significant canvasses by many of the Australian Impressionist painters of the “Heidelberg School”, and two magnificent works by Heysen.