Category Archives: Holidays

Help.

Beltane                                                               Early Growth Moon

Kate has found a garden and landscape helper for us.  Javier does tree, gardening and landscaping with his brother.  They are very reasonable in their pricing.  If he works out, and I’m sure he will, a large part of the burden of maintaining our grounds will lift and Kate and I can concentrated on growing vegetables, fruit and flowers.  What we love doing.

For example, I planted 9 tomato plants and 6 pepper plants this morning, with three egg plants waiting for the removal of the ash in our vegetable garden. (part of the work Javier has agreed to do.)  We’ll probably put in a few more tomato plants with the added sunlight the vegetable garden will have sans ash.

It’s Memorial Day weekend though I have trouble conceiving Memorial Day as any day other than May 30th.  Growing up the Indianapolis 500 always ran right after Memorial Day and that was May 31st.  It was the 1968 Uniform Holiday Act that created all the Monday holidays and their resulting three day weekends.  That’s no way to run a holiday.  Holidays are about tradition, not long weekends.

Anyhow the race is tomorrow.

Erin Go Bar

Imbolc                                                              Bloodroot Moon

St. Patrick’s day at Pappy’s Bar.  We went, stopping by for a brunch at Pappy’s, to get dogfood.  In Pappy’s the bartender had shamrock suspenders, a leprechaun hat with shamrocks and sunglasses, on top of the hat, clear with green lights blinking within the frame.  A waitress, a superannuated sort, had a tiny yellow hat with a green flower and a green t-shirt tuxedo, pressed out far enough in front to provide a handy cushion if she should tip over.

At the end of the bar sat two young women, mid-twenties, sunglasses, eating eggs and sausage while tossing back Bloody Marys.  Next to us sat a younger couple, maybe early fifties, thin and fit looking.  She had on a Honolulu Harley-Davidson tee-shirt and a sad look, not sad today, necessarily, but a look that said life didn’t hold much sparkle for her.  He smiled, took a napkin and cleaned up the water after the bartender had wiped down the bar.  “It was wet,” he said.

Kate ordered the senior special and I got cornbeef hash and eggs in honor of the traditional St. Patrick’s day meal.

We took the last seats in the bar and there was quite a line waiting to eat in the restaurant portion.  This was at noon on Sunday.  A few folks had green tinted liquor drinks in highball glasses, but I saw no green beer.

The sign read March 17, 1992.  We check I.D.  I was 45 in 1992.

Pruning Weather

Imbolc                                                                   Valentine Moon

Last of the furnace vendors.  Get your hot one, right here!  Red hot and cozy!  Discounted. Tax credited.  Rebate worthy.

We’ve made a decision.  We’ll go with Centerpoint, a dual-stage, variable speed motor operating at 95% or 96.5% efficiency.  A bit more with these options but they optimize the conservation of both natural gas and electricity.  Once we get it in that’s one less matter we’ll have to worry about over the next few years.  A good thing.

After Brad left, an interesting guy, knowledgeable about food as a former catering manager for Lunds, we put on our winter gear.  I got out the Sorel’s and clapped my work gloves on, wool hat and down vest.  Kate got ready.  She has less stringent requirements for work in the cold than I do.

Outside in the deep snow, bright with a clear day’s sun, we first cut back to the ground all the raspberries.  In clearing the snow with a coal shovel, I discovered that I could clear snow and prune in the same motion.  Kate went in afterward and cleaned up.

When I finished in the raspberries, I went to the tangle of grapevines that have grown on our front 6-foot chain link fence.  Originally a Celt (our first and dearest Irish Wolfhound) escape prevent barrier, it now serves mainly to give us an ample supply of wild grapes in the fall thanks to the volunteer vines.  Last summer though there were few grapes.

Lots of leaves and vine, not many fruit.  We’d never pruned it before, or if we did, it was a while ago, so it had overgrown.  I whacked away at the orchard side today;  I’ll finish it tomorrow.  Kate got after the bittersweet.  It was a good day for this work.

Back inside I had a snack of bacon and blue cheese with chestnut flower honey, the first installment in my birthday gift, a monthly specialty bacon club.  How cool is that?  Thanks, Kate.

The New Year? Says Who?

Winter                                                          Moon of the Winter Solstice

The new year.  An interesting idea, if you to stop to consider it.  In those parts of the world like ours, the temperate zone that runs in the middle latitudes between the poles (generally), we have more or less four seasons:  spring, summer, autumn and winter.  Even those distinctions are arbitrary, a fact proved by the concept of meteorological spring, summer, autumn and winter which divide the year in four parts by average temperature.  They do not coincide with customary dates like May, September, December, March.

Instead, even in the temperate zones, the earth’s position relative to the sun changes gradually, modulating the amount of solar energy any given square meter of surface receives and thereby modulating heat and cold.  This gradual change has its peaks and valleys and because plants have adapted their life cycles to this gradual change we celebrate, with plant life as a proxy for the astronomical, seasons.

The seasons relate to the status of the plant world.  Right now, plant life is in a fallow time, made necessary by limited sun light and rapidly varying temperatures very often below the freezing point of water.  So we turn away from the agricultural and the horticultural to our life inside our dens.  Later, as the solar energy available increases, the plants will begin to appear from their winter safety and we will engage them again.

When in this cycle does the new year begin?  Take your pick.  The Celts, somewhat counter-intuitively for us today, said the New Year began at the growing season’s final moment, Summer’s End or Samhain.  Many cultures, the Chinese still and European culture until the 18th century, saw the beginning of a new year in the quickening of the plant world or the signs that it would happen soon.

Whatever cues you take from the plant world, January 1st is an outlier.  It has no obvious astronomical or horticultural logic, no roots in culture other than, it appears, the Roman pantheon of Julius Caesar’s day.  He was, you might recall, the one who created the modern calender now in use globally.  The Gregorian modification to the Julian calendar made the calendar work with the slightly more than 365 day year we get from our journey around the sun.

But it was Caesar who decreed that January, named after the god Janus who famously looked backwards and forwards, was the logical time for the change of a year.  Logical only in Caesar’s mind, but even today the Roman dictator still has his way with the world.

As this article in Wikipedia shows, you can celebrate New Year’s at several points throughout the year, so, I guess, today’s as good any of those. Happy New Year!  For now.

13 Baktun

Winter                                                               Moon of the Winter Solstice

Another take on the end of the world.  Embrace it.  A website I saw suggested that the world did end on the 22nd.  The Mayan long count, 12 Baktun*, did roll round and stop.

But.  Only to start over again.  13 Baktun started on the Winter Solstice according to the article cited below.

So, we have just begun a new cycle of 394.26 tropical years.  This Winter Solstice was closer to the millennial transition than either New Year’s or even the turn of a century.

How will your life be different in the 13th Baktun?  Like me, you’ve lived all of yours in the 12th.  Those of born before 2000 are in a unique position in that we have lived through a centennial transition, a millennial transition and now a Baktunal transition.

Of course, if you’re a die hard rationalist you’ll note that one Baktun is like any other.  Well, maybe so, but they do give us, these chronological inflection points, opportunities to look back and assess and to look forward and hope.  Not a bad thing.

Why not give it a shot?  In my case I can look back over the 65 years spent in this last Baktun, my whole life, and consider its arc.  I can look forward to spending all the remaining years of my life in the 13th Baktun.  That means my aging will occur in a brand new chunk of time.  A chunk of time that I can influence as an elder, perhaps give it a positive shove before I return my atoms to the universe.

And, yes, I also embrace the circular, never-ending, achronological great wheel in which the seasons come and go talking of Michelangelo. On the great wheel of my life I have just passed Summer’s End this year, moving into the great fallow season.  There too my task is to prepare the ground for the next spring, that spring when I am a memory.

What will you do with your next Baktun?

 

 

 

 

 

*Wikipedia.  A baktun (properly b’ak’tunEnglish pronunciation: /ˈbɑk ˌtun/[1]Mayan pronunciation: [ɓakʼ ˈtun]) is 20 katun cycles of the ancient Maya Long Count Calendar. It contains 144,000 days, equal to 394.26 tropical years. The Classic period of Maya civilization occurred during the 8th and 9th baktuns of the current calendrical cycle. The current baktun started on 13.0.0.0.0 — December 21, 2012 using the GMT correlation.

Lincoln

Winter (Christmas Day)                                             Moon of the Winter Solstice

Worked on Jason and Medea in the morning.  Kate and I went to see Lincoln in the afternoon.  A powerful movie.  The most realistic depiction of legislative politics I can recall seeing in a long time, maybe since Advise and Consent, which was a long time ago.

A gritty, dark movie about democracy in a moment of extreme crisis, of a strange but good man tested, the colorful figures in and around Lincoln and in the U.S. House of Representatives at the time.  A costume drama and I like costume dramas.  But this one has substance.

It brought me to tears several times in the closing minutes, not only around Lincoln’s assassination, but also around the political issue of passing the 13th amendment.  An awareness of the difficult, unpretty work necessary to make it happen layered on a contemporary realization of the work undone.

It also made me reflect on how different things might have been had Lincoln not died.  I mean reconstruction.  Yes, we fought for the freedom of the enslaved, but we also allowed Jim Crow to create new peculiar institutions, delaying that longed for trip to the mountaintop, a trip not yet fully taken thanks to the struggles of the Northern diaspora.

After we ate dinner at Explore China.  Mooshu Pork, wonton soup, hot tea.

 

The Hours Before Christmas

Winter                                                                       Moon of the Winter Solstice

Went out today to pick up the bound copies of Missing.  Fun to see the thick, maybe 4 inches, copy of my work over the last year, year and a half.  It has what Kinko’s calls a comb binding which consists of a round linked spiral of plastic wound through closely space holes punched in the left margin.   This will allow each of my beta readers to have their own copy that they can mark up as much as they want.  A lot, I hope.  Not sure why but I really feel different about this process.  Better.

Then over to the Festival grocery store for a few items we needed.  It closed at 4 today and I was there at 3:15 pm.  The mood was jolly.  A very nice Christmas surprise.  When I walked in, a guy my age, white hair with a ponytail and beard, black leather Harley jacket pushed a cart out toward me.  “There you go.”  A small gesture, kind.  But so in keeping with the season that it left me smiling the whole time I was in the store.

Back home where Kate cooked tenderloin fillets, potatoes and green beans.  A festive supper.  And a good one.

Now Christmas eve has almost come to an end.  We plan to go see Abraham Lincoln tomorrow and eat Chinese.  Jewish solidarity.

All About Santa

Winter                                                                 Moon of the Winter Solstice

So.  It comes to down this if you’re about 6 years old and into Santa Claus.  Less than 8 hours till C-day.  Somewhere the meteorologist has the sleigh on the radar.  The lights blink off and on.  Some Christmas carol or song plays ring a ling, jingle jingle Silent Night.

At some point you will have to go off to bed.  Go to sleep.  Right!

Hear all those noises?  The clump, the clank.  The tinkle.  A big thump in the living room.  How can you know that’s Dad tripping over the rug?  You know it’s Santa.  Bulging bag on his back.  Checking the list.  Let’s see.  Nice?  or, Naughty?

And you. can’t. get. up.    Yet.

Considering the Massacre of the Innocents

Samhain                                                                Moon of the Winter Solstice

Since Christmas is a festival of the incarnation, a festival of a great God becoming human in the form of a baby, we can take this wonderful mythic idea and use it, especially now, as a filter for the news around us.

(Egon Schiele, Death and the Maiden)

Think of it.  Each baby born a potential or an actual god.  Each one.  How might we know?  Who’s to say?  A great God, an omnipotent God, could conceivably inhabit as many babies as ever are born.  So, it’s possible we might be wrong if we judge a child to be not a God.  We might even misjudge ourselves.

How would this perspective change your life?  Have you ever considered that you might be a god or a goddess?  How would you know?  Not sure.  The baby we’re talking about grew up to be a guy, a carpenter, then the ruling authorities arrested him as a troublemaker and executed him.  If that’s the profile, it might fit a good many of us, even those of us not fortunate to be so threatening to the status quo that we go through life with no fear of arrest or execution.

It seems we ought to err on the side of caution.  That is, each person born, each infant is not a child of god, but a god themselves.  We could then practice the Indian namaste, roughly, the god in me bows to the god in you.  How about that for a holiday ritual?

Looking for the gods and goddesses in your lives and acknowledging them with folded hands, a slight bow and namaste.  Might be good.

Then, of course, we have to parse out the killing of all the children.  How could we do that?

Stuff

Samhain                                                           Moon of the Winter Solstice

A chilly start here.  15 degrees.  We may have some more snow–or cold rain–tomorrow.  Rain?  The week before the Winter Solstice.  Insult.

Two more TCW tours today.  5th graders.

(Carvaggio.  see the Cindy Sherman version below.)

Out of the 50,000 who started the MOOC (massive open online course) on Greek and Roman Mythology, 2,500 of us finished all the requirements.  Of that number 2,200 received a certificate with distinction.  Not exactly a shiny new degree but anything with distinction feels nice.

Kate and I are well into the Hanukkah spirit, lighting the candles, reading the liturgy, having latkes and brisket.