“Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul” – Plato
Ah, Mozart! Truly, a genius, a magician weaving spells with his notes, melodies that enter our hearts and elevate our soul!
Here is a famous aria from an opera that was never finished, “Zaide” composed in 1780. Zaide falls in love with Gomatz, a slave, which strikes up jealousy and rage in the Sultan, who happens to also admire her. After capture she chooses a free life with Gomatz rather than a good life with the Sultan. Allazim encourages the sultan to consider Gomatz as a man, not as a slave. The tender soprano air, "Ruhe sanft, mein holdes Leben" is the only number that might be called moderately familiar, but it is a masterpiece, nevertheless.
If you have never heard this before, read the lyrics and then listen to how Mozart makes each and every word live and breathe emotion with his music… Ruhe sanft, mein holdes Leben,schlafe, bis dein Glück erwacht!da, mein Bild will ich dir geben,schau, wie freundlich es dir lacht:Ihr süßen Träume, wiegt ihn ein,und lasset seinem Wunsch am Endedie wollustreichen Gegenständezu reifer Wirklichkeit gedeihn.
Rest peacefully, sweet love of my life, Sleep 'till you re-awake in happiness! Here, I give you a picture of me, See how lovingly it smiles at you; Oh, let those sweet dreams cradle him, And finally let All sensual things he desires Come to rich fruition.
“Stop worrying about the potholes in the road and celebrate the journey!” - Barbara Hoffman Have you ever had a perfectly ordinary day, a boring, run-of-the-mill, non-red letter day suddenly surprise you? A common day that becomes a day worthy of celebration, a regular week day that transforms itself into a rare holiday? Well it happened for me today and I can be thankful for it. Suddenly, a reason to celebrate and the everyday becomes rare and wonderful. What better way to celebrate than with…
CHAMPAGNE PUNCH
Ingredients
1 large ripe pineapple
2 oranges
5 passionfruits
1 apple
1 punnet strawberries
6 tablespoonfuls icing sugar
1 cupful brandy
1 cupful cointreau
2 bottles of Champagne
Method Peel and clean the pineapple, chopping into small cubes and put into a large bowl. Juice the oranges and add to the pineapple. Wash and hull the strawberries, leaving them to drain. Half them and add to the bowl. Peel the apple and chop finely into the bowl. Add the passionfruit pulp to the bowl and stir in the sugar until it is dissolved. Stir in the brandy and cointreau, put the bowl into the freezer until almost frozen solid. Break the fruit mixture into into chunks, put into a punch bowl and pour the chilled champagne over the frozen fruit mixture. Now you may ask, what precipitated this celebratory mood? A tiny moment. A sweet nothing, a common ordinary experience, a surprise, a little trifle. We do not need much to make us stop in our tracks and reflect. We live, we enjoy this gift given us and each moment should be savoured and enjoyed. We do need to celebrate the happiness that friends and families bring into our lives, celebrate each good moment, and learn to deal with the bad ones.
“Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defence.” - Mark Overby
The Victorian era was a strange time. On the one hand prudishness ruled the day and on the other secret scandals rocked the nation, with even people of quite high social standing and fame implicated. Piano legs were covered as they were considered to be too suggestive, while wild shows of half naked women were rife, and prostitution (of even young girls) was commonplace. The hypocrisy of Victorian society was perhaps not better exemplified by the royal family of England itself. The widowed queen Victoria in black and perpetually grieving for her husband Albert, had a secret lover in her servant John Brown. Her son, Albert Edawrd, Prince of Wales was womanizer and bon-viveur whose name was rarely out of scandal sheets.
Is it surprising then that such an age developed a highly intricate form of communication for lovers in the form of a “secret” floral code. This is the Victorian Language of Flowers. One could compose a letter by simply arranging blooms in a bouquet and sending it to his or her romantic interest. The flowers were then identified and their meaning divined with the aid of a dictionary and the letter pieced together like a jigsaw puzzle.
Seeing it’s Valentine’s Day, here is the multitude of meanings that the rose can signify in the language of flowers:
Rose (red) - Love ; I love you Rose (white) - Eternal Love; innocence; heavenly; secrecy and silence Rose (pink) - Perfect happiness; please believe me Rose (yellow) - Friendship; jealousy; try to care Rose (black) - Death Rose (red and white) - Together; unity Rose (thornless) - Love at first sight Rose (single, full bloom) - I love you; I still love you Rose bud - Beauty and youth; a heart innocent of love Rose bud (red) - Pure and lovely Rose bud (white) - Girlhood Rosebud (moss) - Confessions of love Roses (bouquet of full bloom) - Gratitude Roses (garland or crown of) - Beware of virtue; reward of merit; crown ; symbol of superior merit Roses (musk cluster) - Charming Rose (tea) - I'll always remember Rose (cabbage) - Ambassador of love Rose (Christmas) - Tranquilize my anxiety; anxiety Rose (damask) - Brilliant complexion Rose (dark crimson) - Mourning Rose (hibiscus) - Delicate beauty Rose leaf - You may hope
As well as fresh bouquets of the appropriate flowers, young women often painted the blooms in delicate watercolours or embroidered them in fine coloured silks, so as to offer their sentiments to their beloved in a more lasting form. Many such fine items of Victoriana are now worth lots of money, even though their true significance may be deciphered by the few.
Victoriana |vikˌtôrēˈanə| plural noun Articles, esp. collectors' items, from the Victorian period. • matters or attitudes relating to or characteristic of this period. ORIGIN late 19th cent.: named after Queen Victoria of Great Britain (1819–1901).
“Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.” - Aristotle
Seeing it’s Lovers’ Day Eve, I thought it appropriate to indulge in a love poem that is dedicated to all lovers. Those gentle souls who lie clasped in each other’s arms and share heartbeats, exchange souls and between whom silence is as eloquent as thousand words. My poem for you:
I Breathed your Soul
As our breaths were mingling, your head clasped to my breast, I looked into your half-closed eyes and shared your dreams. As I could feel your gentle breath move my heart yet closer, I breathed your soul in, and my heart enclosed itself in yours.
As our hands entwined, and our lives lay coiled in perfect symmetry, My words remained unsaid, for your mind was already filled with mine. Your smile, my sun – my eyes your moon, I breathed sweet air that you exhaled and drank your kisses.
If I were to think of you without my life, I’d think no more, For without you, my life is truly without life. And yet, even then I should not die, For I have within my soul, your soul, And you within your mind my mind; But your heart carries within it mine And a heartless life is life, but life is not.
"Don't eat too many almonds; they add weight to the breasts." - Colette
Almond blossom, Prunus amygdalis, is the birthday flower for this day. The Hebrew name for the tree is shakad = “awakening”, this in reference to the flowers that are borne before the leaves during late winter. It is the symbol of heedlessness, the flowers not heeding the winter weather that may damage them. The Greeks had a legend about this tree and concerns the Thracian queen, Phyllis. She was the wife of Demophon, one of the Greek kings who went to fight in the Trojan War. She died of grief when her husband failed to return from the War and the gods taking pity on her turned her into an almond tree. When at length Demophon returned, it was winter and when told of his wife’s fate, he embraced the bare tree that she had become. Phyllis was so overcome with joy that she brought forth a profusion of flowers. Virgil commented on the blooming of the almond with reference to the season ahead:
With many a bud, if flowering almonds bloom, And arch their gay festoons that breathe perfume, So shall thy harvest like profusion yield, And cloudless suns mature the fertile field.
A charming poem has been written about the blooming almond tree by Heinrich Heine:
Soutine's portraits from the 1920s, distinguished by their subjects' twisted faces and distorted limbs and by the emphasis in each canvas on one brilliant colour, frequently red, are among his most expressive works.
Chaim Soutine: “Woman in Red./ La femme en rouge”, ca 1923-24. Oil on canvas. 91.4 x 63.5 cm. Private collection.
Modigliani introduced Soutine to the art dealer Leopold Zborowski, who enabled him to spend three years (1919–22) painting at Céret in the south of France. The feverish, visionary landscapes Soutine painted there marked the emergence of his mature style. Soutine spent most of the remainder of his life in Paris. He exhibited little during his lifetime and relentlessly reworked or destroyed old canvases.
Chaim Soutine. "Landscape at Cagnes (La Gaude)/Paysage de Cagnes (La Gaude)", ca 1923. Oil on canvas. 65.4 x 81.6 cm. Columbus Museum of Art, Ohio, USA.
Soutine's life had changed radically after the American collector, Dr. Albert C. Barnes, bought many of his canvases in 1923. Having previously known poverty, Soutine now enjoyed a comfortable life and could stay at luxury hotels and spas. At Châtelguyon, Puy-de-Dôme, where he often went to take waters with his friends and patrons Marcellin and Madeline Castaing, he observed the staff and painted the well-known series of bellboys and waiters. Soutine seems to have felt a bond with these despised workers, victims of a rejection he himself had experienced. Through characteristic individuals, such as the room-service waiter of this painting, Soutine evoked the boundless mass of the oppressed.
Chaim Soutine : "The Room-service Waiter", ca 1927 . Oil on canvas 87.0 x 66.0 cm. Musée de l'Orangerie, Paris
“Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.” - Henry Ward Beecher
Chaim Soutine (1893-1943) was born in Russia and brought up in a Lithuanian Jewish ghetto where he encountered community opposition for his propensity for drawing images, which contravened Talmudic law. He arrived in Paris in 1913, where he initially lived in desperate poverty. In 1915 he met Modigliani, with whom he developed a close friendship. His work was tenuously connected with the Parisian mainstream, but has a recognisable debt to Fauvism and Expressionism. Although his financial condition improved suddenly after 1923 through growing patronage, he continued to produce disturbing works in which extremely distorted images were painted with intensely heightened colours.
Chaim Soutine: “Servant Girl in Blue/La servante en bleu”, ca 1934. Oil on panel. 51.4 x 52.4 cm. Private collection.
"I don't like nostalgia unless it's mine." - Reed, Lou
The day was definitely autumnal today, the first hint of autumn, perhaps. The rain we had last night had cleaned the air, cooled the temperatures and the first lot of yellow leaves from the plane trees were littering the ground. We spent the whole day working in the garden and since a neighbour was ripping out some bricks, we went and rescued them from being thrown out. Good solid red bricks are always useful and they come in handy around the garden.
Listened to some old Spanish, French and Italian pop songs of the 60s and 70s today, so here is a sample of a few. Interesting how these songs have remained with us… I remember hearing them as a child while growing up and each is associated with a host of memories.
This is Jeanette singing “Porque te Vas?” a Spanish pop song composed in 1974 by Jose Luis Perales and used to good effect in the very good 1976 film “Cria Cuervos” with Geraldine Chaplin.
Here is Salvatore Adamo in the 1965 hit “La Notte” – a classic Italian pop song about a love affair gone sour. “Even if during the day I can make myself not think of you, at night I curse you… Night makes me go crazy.”
In the 60s and 70s, a beautiful young Egyptian woman called Dalidá took France by storm and sang all the hits of those times in French and Italian mainly. Here she is singing “Marina”, by Rocco Granata (1959):
“All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt!” – Charles Schulz
A busy day today and all sorts of things to do at work but also at home. Seeing I’m keeping this entry short as the bed beckons too invitingly, how about a nice convoluted recipe, just right for the weekend?
CHICKEN LIVER PATÉ
Ingredients
1 kg cleaned chicken livers (no hearts)
3 carrots
2 celery stalks (with leaves)
4 sprigs of parsley
4 sprigs of rosemary
10 peppercorns
225 g butter
2 onions finely minced
2 teaspoonfuls salt
2 teaspoonfuls dry mustard
1 teaspoonful Tabasco sauce
3 teaspoonfuls Worcestershire sauce
1/3 teaspoonful mace
1/3 teaspoonful nutmeg
1 pinch ground cloves
1/2 wine glassful of dry sherry (or brandy)
Method
Clean the chicken livers thoroughly, leaving no trace of membranes, veins or gall. Bring a saucepan of salted water to the boil and add the peeled, chopped up carrots, celery, parsley, rosemary and peppercorns. Boil for 10 minutes and then add the livers, cooking for a further 10-15 minutes, until the livers are cooked. Remove from the heat and drain.
Melt the butter and heat until it starts to spatter. Add the finely minced onions and stir through until golden brown. Add the livers and vegetables, stirring through thoroughly. Add the spices, Tabasco and mustard, stirring through thoroughly. Add the sherry and simmer for about 5 minutes.
Purée in a blender until the mixture is reduced to the consistency of a fine paste. Put the pâté in a serving dish and smooth the top, decorating with sliced stuffed olives and a gelatine glaze if desired. Chill for about 6 hours before serving. Serve with slices of crusty French bread. Enjoy your weekend!
"What you do not want done to yourself, do not do to others." – Confucius
Happy Chinese New Year! This is the year of the Rat! The Chinese calendar is a lunisolar one and is called the Yin-Yang Li = “sun-moon calendar”. All Chinese and Vietnamese festivals are calculated according to this calendar, which is the longest chronological record in history, dating from 2600BC, when the Emperor Huang Ti introduced the first cycle of the zodiac. The Chinese Lunar Calendar is a yearly one, with the start of the lunar year being based on the cycles of the moon. Therefore, because of this cyclical dating, the beginning of the year can fall anywhere between late January and the middle of February. A complete cycle takes 60 years and is made up of five cycles of 12 years each. The calendar has twelve lunar months 29 or 30 days in length, with an extra month being inserted every 30 months in order to realign the lunar months with the solar year. The first month of the Chinese calendar begins on the second new moon after the Winter Solstice. The months are not named but are numbered. Thus the First Month corresponds with January/February of the Gregorian calendar.
The Chinese Lunar Calendar names each of the twelve years after an animal. Legend has it that the Lord Buddha summoned all the animals to come to him before he departed from earth. Only twelve came to bid him farewell and as a reward he named a year after each one in the order they arrived. The Chinese believe the animal ruling the year in which a person is born has a profound horoscopical influence on personality, saying: “This is the animal that hides in your heart”. The animals of the Chinese zodiac are: Rat (zi), Ox (chou), Tiger (yin), Rabbit (mao), Dragon (chen), Snake (si), Horse (wu), Ram (wei), Monkey (shen), Rooster (you), Dog (xu) and Boar (hai).
The celebration of the Chinese New Year takes place over 15 days. The first day of the Lunar New Year is "the welcoming of the gods of the heavens and earth". Many people abstain from meat on the first day of the new year because it is believed that this will ensure long and happy lives for them.
On the second day, the Chinese pray to their ancestors as well as to all the gods. They are extra kind to dogs and feed them well as it is believed that the second day is the birthday of all dogs.
The third and fourth days are for the sons-in-laws to pay respect to their parents-in-law.
The fifth day is called Po Woo. On that day people stay home to welcome the God of Wealth. No one visits families and friends on the fifth day because it will bring both parties bad luck. On the sixth to the 10th day, the Chinese visit their relatives and friends freely. They also visit the temples to pray for good fortune and health.
The seventh day of the New Year is the day for farmers to display their produce. These farmers make a drink from seven types of vegetables to celebrate the occasion. The seventh day is also considered the birthday of human beings. Noodles are eaten to promote longevity and raw fish for success.
On the eighth day the Fujian people have another family reunion dinner, and at midnight they pray to Tian Gong, the God of Heaven.
The ninth day is to make offerings to the Jade Emperor.
The 10th through the 12th are days that friends and relatives should be invited for dinner. After so much rich food, on the 13th day you should have simple rice congee and mustard greens (choi sum) to cleanse the system.
The 14th day should be for preparations to celebrate the Lantern Festival, which is to be held on the 15th night.
calendar |ˈkaləndər| noun A chart or series of pages showing the days, weeks, and months of a particular year, or giving particular seasonal information. • A datebook. • A system by which the beginning, length, and subdivisions of the year are fixed. • A timetable of special days or events of a specified kind or involving a specified group: The college calendar. • A list of people or events connected with particular dates, esp. canonized saints and cases for trial. verb [ trans. ] enter (something) in a calendar or timetable. DERIVATIVES calendarize |ˈkaləndəˌrīz| verb calendric |kəˈlendrik| adjective calendrical |kəˈlendrikəl| adjective ORIGIN Middle English : from Old French calendier, from Latin kalendarium ‘account book,’ from Latin kalendae, calendae ‘first day of the month’ (when accounts were due and the order of days was proclaimed); related to Latin calare and Greek kalein ‘call, proclaim.’
“Silence is a source of great strength.” – Lao Tzu
To those of you who have wished for a flood of words when arid, stony silence was all you got, my poem is dedicated today.
The Strength of Silence
Silence, says he, is golden, Words are silvern So speak not, for it’s more precious That way, the speechless way; For even in the account book of words, His mind on profit.
Strong, silent type, he is, Or so he would have you believe him be; A man of few words, silvern – remember? But more often the loud silence Of hollow ringing as each gold ingot falls on begging ears: Taciturnity now passes off for fortitude.
When evening fell, when night cut cold When every fibre of your orphan soul Was crying out for a flood of words, Brazen, leaden, wooden even – His silence (precious but empty, golden but hollow) Met your expectancy.
And in the darkness, as your heart froze His icy golden fortress of quiet Chilled your being even more. How strong, the silent type, How motionless, immovable, How unmoved, unmoving…
The strength of silence harder than rock, Sharper than scalpel blade, Colder than arctic tundra, More efficient executioner than falling axe. The strength of silence hides weakness, Crippled emotion, cowardice, egoism.
Shrovetide is the period just before Lent when people made their “shrifts”, or they were “shriven” i.e. made their confessions. Lent is a period of meditation, fasting, doing penance, preparing spiritually for Easter and giving money to charity. No weddings should be performed during Lent, couples usually waiting until Easter Sunday, a very popular day to celebrate a wedding in many countries. Traditionally, the 40-day period of Lent was also a time that new candidates for admission into the Christian faith prepared for their baptism, which occurred on Easter Sunday.
In England, Shrove Monday is also called Collop Monday, meaning the day on which the meat forbidden during Lent had to be consumed in the form of “collops” or “rashers”. Mutton collops or bacon collops were eaten on this day together with eggs. Merry making and the playing of practical jokes was also a custom on the Shrovetide days. Carnival as such was not celebrated in England.
Rosenmontag, or Rose Monday, is a German pre-Lenten tradition. On this day, friends exchange a single white rose, this explaining the name of the holiday. Rosenmontag is included in the week prior to Lent when Carnival is celebrated with parades, processions and masquerades. The Sunday before Rosenmontag and Shrove Tuesday are termed the “Three Mad Days” as this is when the carnival reaches its zenith. The main carnival procession is held on Rosenmontag (Shrove Monday) and the processions of Mainz and Cologne are by far the most famous and grand. In Cologne, the parade stretches for up to 7 km and is watched by 1.5 million people. The leading float is occupied by the Prince of the Carnival and following this are other floats, many coaches, dancers, giant dummies depicting well-known personalities in caricature. Brass bands follow on with riders on richly-caparisoned horses, costumed figures, clowns and girls who throw chocolates, carnations and mimosa blossom (flown in from the South of France) into the crowd. Mardi Gras, or “Fat Tuesday”, or “Pancake Tuesday” are alternative names for Shrove Tuesday. In most Western churches this is the last day of the pre-Lenten non-fasting period. It was a day during which all remaining eggs, milk, butter and cheese in the house had to be consumed, hence the custom of making pancakes.
The term Lent is derived from the Anglo-Saxon lenctene, meaning the time when days lengthen. The Scottish term for Lent is “Fasterns” while the Gaelic and Welsh terms also allude to the period of fasting. In Latin the term carnesprivium is given to Lent and means “the time of abstinence from meat”. Before the fast, all foods forbidden during Lent had to be consumed and generally this was a time for merry-making and feasting. Carnival is derived from the Latin carnelevarium, meaning “taking away of meat”. Other sources link carnival with carnevale, literally, “goodbye to meat”. No eggs, milk, cheese, meat or fish are partaken during the period of fasting, a largely vegetarian diet being followed. The Roman Catholic faith has relaxed the requirements of Lenten fasting whereas the Greek Orthodox church still applies the same stringent requirements to the faithful.
Happy Mardi Gras! Have a good Lent. Reflect, meditate, pray…
“Civilisation is the process of setting man free from men.” - Ayn Rand
We watched an excellent Greek Movie by Nikos Grammatikos, at the weekend, called Ο Βασιλιάς - “The King” (2002). This is a tense, psychological thriller about what makes us tick as a “civilised” society and how civilised we really are in these days of high technology, equal opportunity and the supposed inalienable rights of the individual. The anti-hero of the film experiences first-hand ostracism by a small, tightly-knit community, simply because he chooses not to compromise and not to capitulate on what he sees as his right to his individuality and freedom of expression and action.
This film has elements of Greek tragedy. Tragedy in its primeval theatrical meaning was a situational drama in which the hero or heroine proceeded along a course of action even though they knew that the consequences would be personally devastating. This predetermined dance of destiny, the inescapable fatal denouement, the move towards the precipice, knowing full well that one would plunge down into the abyss, is what makes us squirm with discomfort when we watch a tragedy. We wish to cry out and warn the heroes of their impending doom, but no matter how shrilly we shriek, to their doom they march.
The anti-hero of the film is a man, just released from jail after detention involving drug use and trafficking. He has made a tough decision while in jail to make a fresh start and go straight. To this end he decides to move to his father’s village and live in a dilapidated house, which he restores. He is befriended by an unconventional policeman, but the rest of the village view him with suspicion and hate. He is the archetypal outsider, more detestable than even the migrant workers that the villagers take advantage of as labourers. His past intrudes when his girlfriend from Athens joins him, bringing with her the ghosts of his past who will upset the precarious equilibrium he has fought so hard to establish.
There are some powerful, gut-wrenching scenes in the film and some raw images may shock the observer reared on Hollywood-style, arcade-game violence. The film repels and attracts with equal force. The anti-hero evinces both aversion and sympathy. There is both a deep humanity and an inhuman savage mindlessness that moves the characters of this film. One to watch and ponder on.
The film is available on DVD and if you have access to it via an outlet that is more adventurous and exotic in its stock choices, it is worthwhile seeing. It is not a great movie – the cinematography and screenplay are not masterpieces of the art, however, the cast does a great job, the story is convincingly and poignantly evinced and the film raises important points about social behaviour, xenophobia, the “us and them” mentality.
“They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.” - Benjamin Franklin
February 3rd is US illustrator and artist Norman Rockwell’s birthday (1894-1978). In commemoration of this, I am featuring his work and life on Art Sunday. His art was recognised and loved by almost everybody in US and in many other countries around the world. The cover of The Saturday Evening Post was his showcase for over forty years, giving him an audience larger than that of any other artist in history. Over the years he depicted there a unique collection of Americana, a series of vignettes of keen observation, warmth and humour. In addition, he painted a great number of pictures for story illustrations, advertising campaigns, posters, calendars, and books.
As his personal contribution during World War II, Rockwell painted in 1942 the famous "Four Freedoms" posters, symbolising for millions the war aims as described by President Franklin Roosevelt. "Freedom of Speech", “Freedom from Want”, “Freedom from Fear” and “Freedom of Worship” are the ideals he immortalised.
Rockwell left high school to attend classes at the National Academy of Design and later studied under Thomas Fogarty and George Bridgman at the Art Students League in New York. His early illustrations were done for St. Nicholas magazine and other juvenile publications. He sold his first cover painting to the “Post” in 1916 and ended up doing over 300 more. Presidents Eisenhower, Kennedy, and Johnson sat for him for portraits, and he painted other world figures, including Nasser of Egypt and Nehru of India.
In 1957 the United States Chamber of Commerce in Washington cited him as a Great Living American, saying that… “Through the magic of your talent, the folks next door - their gentle sorrows, their modest joys - have enriched our own lives and given us new insight into our countrymen.”
The Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, Massachusetts has established a large collection of his paintings, and has preserved Rockwell's last studio as well.
“Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.” – Amelia Burr
The sweet melancholy of our days colours our thoughts and dims the sunlight of childhood memories. Night falls early and despite the summer twilight that drags on, darkness with its velvet shades obscures the luminosity of evening skies as effectively as the curtain that falls on illuminated stage sets.
Here is the adagio from Alessandro Marcello’s "Oboe Concerto in D minor". Clare Schanks (baroque oboe), directed by Christopher Hogwood.
“I want to have a good body, but not as much as I want dessert.” - Jason Love
A short blog entry today as I am travelling for work and I am rather pressed for time. Here is a recipe for your delectation. Friends of the family gave it to us when we visited them at their farm in Zürich.
300 mL of citrus fruit yoghurt 11/2 cupfuls of icing sugar for the icing ≈1/2 cupful icing mixture chopped walnuts
Method Grease well an 18 cm square cake tin. Whisk the egg yolks and sugar until thick and creamy. Stir in the carrots, hazelnuts and rind. Sift in the flour and baking powder, folding into the mixture. Whisk the egg whites until stiff peaks form and fold into the mixture gently. Turn into the prepared cake tin and bake in a moderate oven (180˚C) for 40-45 minutes. Leave in the tin for 2-3 minutes after taking out of the oven and then turn onto a wire rack to cool. Mix the yoghurt and the icing sugar, adding enough icing mixture to make a spreadable paste. Spread on the surface of the cake and sprinkle with chopped walnuts.
“That dire disease, whose ruthless power Withers the beauty's transient flower.” - Oliver Goldsmith
Vinca major, the white periwinkle is the birthday flower for today. It symbolises tender recollections and pleasant memories. Astrologically, the plant is ruled by Venus. The vinca is rich in alkaloids, making it poisonous, but this property has also made it useful in medicine, as it has yielded two important cancer-fighting drugs, vincristine and vinblastine. These are drugs that are now used routinely in many forms of cancer chemotherapy, especially as agents in the treatment of leukaemias, lymphomas, and testicular cancer.
This brings us to our word for the day, chemotherapy, which means:
chemotherapy |ˌkēmōˈθerəpē| noun the treatment of disease by the use of chemical substances, esp. the treatment of cancer by cytotoxic and other drugs. DERIVATIVES chemotherapist |-pist| |ˈkimoʊˈθɛrəpəst|| noun ORIGIN Late 16th cent.: from French chimique or modern Latin chimicus, chymicus, from medieval Latin alchymicus, from alchimia + mid 19th cent.: from modern Latin therapia, from Greek therapeia ‘healing,’ from therapeuein ‘minister to, treat medically.
Franz Peter Schubert (1797–1828) born on this day, was an Austrian romantic composer. German lieder reached their greatest expression in his beautiful lyrical songs, especially in the great cycles Die Schöne Müllerin [Fair Maid of the Mill] (1823) and Die Winterreise [The Winter’s Journey] (1827). His symphonies are the final flowering of the classical sonata forms, and the Fifth (1816), Eighth (the Unfinished, 1822), and Ninth (1828) rank with the best orchestral music. His chamber works include the well-loved Quartet in D Minor (Death and the Maiden, 1824) and the Quintet in A Major (The Trout, 1819). Schubert also wrote stage music, choral music, Masses, and much piano music.
Unfortunately for Schubert, chemotherapy in his day was not highly developed and the drugs used in treating some common afflictions of the past were either ineffective or extremely toxic. Poor Schubert managed to contract syphilis after an unfortunate and disastrous encounter in 1822 and died at the age of 31 of this disease. Nowadays, syphilis can be treated effectively with a single injection of penicillin (or other chemotherapeutic agents, if you are allergic to penicillin).
Here is some stormy and emotionally charged music by Schubert, his famous “Erlkoenig”:
Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind? Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind; Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm, Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.
"Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?" "Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht? Den Erlenkönig mit Kron und Schweif?" "Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif."
"Du liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir! Gar schöne Spiele spiel' ich mit dir; Manch' bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand, Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand."
"Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht, Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht?" "Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind; In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind."
"Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn? Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön; Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn, Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein."
"Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort Erlkönigs Töchter am düstern Ort?" "Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh es genau: Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau."
"Ich liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt; Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch ich Gewalt." "Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an! Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan!"
Dem Vater grauset's, er reitet geschwind, Er hält in Armen das ächzende Kind, Erreicht den Hof mit Müh' und Not; In seinen Armen das Kind war tot. The Elf King
Who rides so late through night and wind? It is the father with his child. He holds the boy safe in his arm He holds him safe, he keeps him warm.
"My son, why do you hide your face so fearfully?" "Father, do you not see the Elf king? The Elf king with crown and robe?" "My son, it's a wisp of fog."
"You lovely child, come, go with me! Nothing but beautiful games I'll play with you; Many colourful flowers are on the shore, My mother has many golden robes."
"My father, my father, can't you hear, What the Elf king quietly promises me?" "Be calm, stay calm, my child; It is the wind rustling in the dry leaves."
"Do you want to come with me, fine lad? My daughters should already be waiting for you; My daughters lead the nightly folkdance And rock you and dance and sing."
"My father, my father, and can't you see there, The Elf king daughters in the gloomy place?" "My son, my son, I see it well: It is the old grey willows gleaming."
"I love you, your beautiful form entices me; And if you're not willing, I shall use force." "My father, my father, now he takes hold of me! The Elf king has wounded me!"
It horrifies the father; he rides swiftly, Holding in his arms the moaning child. He reaches the yard with great difficulty; In his arms, the child was dead.
"If I know what love is, it is because of you." - Hermann Hesse
Many years ago when I visited Italy, I listened to a song on the radio that enchanted me. I tried in vain to find out who sang it, to listen to it again, to search for more songs by the same artist, but all my efforts proved fruitless. The lyrics impressed themselves on my mind and some years later my brain begat this version after working on the remembrance of that Italian song…
Serenata As remembered from the Italian
The pagan tribes of Araby revere the sun The Saracens all to the moon pay homage. The stars and winds in blackest Africa are adored And I my love only your eyes do worship.
In times of strife all men the saints invoke In hardship everyone to gods does turn, In tempests raging the sailors Christ recall But I my love to you in my misfortune pray.
All slaves crave for their freedom sweet, All prisoners to loose their fetters try, All cagéd birds to escape their bars attempt, And I, my love, to you myself enchain.
To war, searching for glory soldiers go, To power king and noble all would sacrifice To miser more than life the glint of gold is worth, But I my love would for your smile expire.
Enjoy the rest of your week, and visit Sans Souci’s blog for the Poetry Wednesday tour. The image accompanying the poem s called “Moon Goddess” and is by artist Susan Seddon Boulet.
I have been blogging daily on this platform for several years now. It is surprising that I have persisted as the world is changing and "microblogging" is now the norm. I blog to amuse myself, make comment on current affairs, externalise some of my creativity, keep notes on things that interest me, learn something new and to surprise myself with things that I discover about this wonderful, and sometimes crazy, world we live in.
I sometimes get the impression that I am on a soapbox delivering a monologue, so your comments are welcome.
