Mountain Weather

Spring                                    Mountain Spring Moon

This weather. When I came up to the loft at 6 am, it was cool, but clear. When I went downstairs for breakfast at about 7:15, there was about an inch of snow on the deck. It’s thick, white light flakes falling now, coating the branches of the Ponderosas and collecting, again, on the deck. I cleared it about 15 minutes ago.

Whatever happens will not be a problem because the temps will rebound into the 50’s and 60’s starting tomorrow. When I asked Kate what were the things she liked most about living here so far, among them she said, “The weather.” The weather, which I also like, has surprised me the most.

Medea

Spring                                       Mountain Spring Moon

Medea. The more closely I follow her story in Ovid, the better I understand why she inspired so many works of literature and painting. In a time when women worked the looms and managed households (Penelope, for example) Medea was a strong woman in every phase of her life. She seduced Jason and literally brought new life to Aeson, his father.

She is a magician, a sorceress, a witch, one who walks alone in the night. She banishes the clouds and calls for the clouds to return. She shatters living rock with a word and calls the winds, then bids them go. She is the female equivalent of the heroes of the age of heroes.

I’ve not yet gotten to the portion of Ovid’s account where she kills her children, so I won’t comment on it.

More to come.

In Flight

Spring, Mountain Spring Moon.

The Latin work has begun to change, moving toward more careful, yet faster translation, a new novel is underway and my exercise program has altered. So, too, is this blog undergoing change. I don’t anticipate much difference in the work I do here, but the form needs to reflect a new reality, Colorado home.

The mountains, the plants, the animals of this Western state press increasingly into our minds: scissor-tailed flycatchers, the fat fox, mule deer, mountain lions, Ponderosa and Lodgepole pine, Shadow Mountain, Black Mountain, Mt. Evans, Conifer Mountain. The drives into Denver, to Evergreen, to Aspen Park, toward the Kenosha Pass.

When the travelers have settled, the way will appear.

Design Change.

Spring    Mountain Spring Moon.

As you can see I’ve been at it again, trying to get a Colorado design for Ancientrails. I really appreciate all the feedback I’ve gotten and if you have more…let me have it.

This iterative process will not last long, so I hope you’ll bear with me as I try to come up with something that works well.

 

Wandering

Spring                                        Mountain Spring Moon

Back of Black Mountain DriveGot tired of reviewing my Latin so I got up and wandered around in our thawing yard. Lots of things to see. Lichen growing on moss and old stones. Mule deer scat. Lamb’s quarter beginning to emerge. Green showing its springy fingerprint on so much. Still just an accent color, but soon.

This acre, though smaller than our Andover hectare, has a more spacious feeling. There is no undergrowth, no weeds, shrubs, hedges, anything. The Ponderosa cluster, a few trees to a group, several clusters and some open space. The soil, or ground, is rocky and looks unforgiving from a horticultural perspective. Not a surprise.

It feels important to me to have enough land that I can walk around it, see it from different angles. After the place in Andover, this feels necessary though I know it’s not. But, I like it. Caring for land is in my blood and I want to figure out how to make this place the best it can be. At least for now.

 

 

Spring                                           Mountain Spring Moon

On Saturday I began going back through the material I translated, checking definitions, grammar, using Anderson, a commentary, as a guide. Now I’m trying to produce a translation that’s as good as I can do. That takes longer than just translating, at least for me, and for sure at my current level. At another point, not yet, I plan to revisit the idea of a commentary; this time though, at least at first, for only one book, not all 15.

Transforming. Again.

Spring                                  Mountain Spring Moon

Got several comments about the changes to Ancientrails. Font too small. Background made the text hard to read. No links for the title. So, I decided to try a version of the WordPress theme I’ve used before. I just wanted something fresh for Colorado. Please let me know if you find any problems here. I’ll try to fix them.

BTW: The new header is a frieze of Demeter, Persephone, Hades

My Buddy

Spring                              Mountain Spring Moon

My photo of Ovid's statue in Constanta, Romania, site of the originally Greek settled, Tomis
My photo of Ovid’s statue in Constanta, Romania, site of the originally Greek settled, Tomis

My friend Tom Crane pointed out that yesterday was my buddy Ovid’s birthday. Don’t know how I missed that, but thanks, Tom.

“Ovid was born on March 20, 43 BC. After holding brief judicial posts as a young man, Ovid turned to writing poetry. His work was well received, but for reasons that remain mysterious today, emperor Augustus banished him to Tomis in 8 BC. Ovid wrote two poetry collections while there, Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto. He died at Tomis in 17 AD. His most famous works are Ars amatoria and Metamorphoses.”  biography.com

I’m debating devoting even more time to Ovid, his poetry, especially Metamorphoses, and his times, the Augustan era. It seems like I’ve finally reached a fulcrum point in my learning of Latin where I’m about to tip over from student to scholar. As an amateur classicist, I’ll need considerably more study to get ready to contribute in any meaningful way, but I believe I have the capacity and I know I have the desire.

A year from now, on Ovid’s next birthday, his 2058th, if I count correctly, I’ll let you know how far I’ve gotten. It did just occur to me that Ovid’s two millennia death anniversary is exactly 2 years away. Hmm.

Spring, 2015

Spring                                   Mountain Spring Moon

The sun hits the celestial equator today at 4:45 pm. It also rises due East and sets due West. This is the day the serpent crawls up Chichen Itza. Though meteorological spring, the three months between the coldest and warmest months, began on March 1st, today is the old holiday, one celebrated in cultures across many lands.

Here, for example, is an interesting paragraph about spring from the perspective of wu xing: “In Chinese thought, spring is associated with the color green, the sound of shouting, the wood element, the climate of wind, things sprouting, your eyes, your liver, your anger, patience and altruism– and a green dragon. Not surprisingly, spring is also associated with the direction east, the sunrise direction as Earth spins us toward the beginning of each new day.”  earth and sky

Spring sees the early evidence of winter’s end, celebrated at Imbolc, when the lambs are in the belly, brought forward. The lambs are born. The grass is plentiful so the ewes can give milk and nourish their babies. The gradual loosening of winter’s cold and snow and ice continues, accelerates until the days have warmth as their usual state.

The warmth and the sun climbing toward the north signal plants and animals both. Hibernation ends so the visible population of critters increases rapidly, coming out for the food the new season promises. Spring ephemerals burst out of the snow: snowdrops, crocus, aconites. Later, the daffodils will come, too. The strategy of the spring ephemerals is an interesting one. They emerge, bloom and die back before whatever is in the surrounding vicinity can leaf out, thus capturing all the available sunlight before shade covers their spot.

If Michaelmas is the springtime of the soul, then the vernal equinox is the springtime of the body, of the material and animate world. No surprise then that it serves as the proximate marker for the Christian easter, focused as it is on the resurrection, the new life of the body. Both Christmas and the Easter, the two key Christian holidays, one marking the incarnation and the other the death and regained life of Jesus, focus on the body and its possibilities. In the first instance the body is seen as a vessel for the divine and in the second the body is seen as no longer bound by the strict laws of the animal world. Death is no longer the end.

The Great Wheel suggests a similar, but profoundly different way of viewing these two most profound mysteries: birth and death. The Great Wheel focuses on the rhythms of the natural world and on their sequence, their repetitiveness. Taken most literally it adds nothing to these rhythms, nor does it subtract from them. Birth and death occur as the great wheel turns, as the earth revolves around the sun, source of the vital energy that maintains life between these antipodes.

This intricate interdependence between animals and plants in their life cycles, the sun and the earth’s orbit around it, is common, literally mundane. Profane, too, I suppose. Yet the miraculous is here, too and we need no sacred text to see it. Out of the stuff born in the birth of the stars themselves, stuff borne later on the solar wind and in the cataclysmic explosions at the deaths of these same stars, came the material that created our sun and our home, this planet, this earth.

Then, consider what happens next. That same stuff, now reordered and shaped into this planet, somehow reconfigured itself so that it could move, so that develop intention and instinct, so that it could replicate itself rather than having to wait for the violent processes more usual for the distribution of matter. And that that stuff, the same from the heart of the stars, so reconfigured, grew in complexity and capability until human babies began to born. Babies that could, probably for the first time here on earth, perhaps for the first time in the whole of the universe, see that which gave them the potential for life, the universe in its particularity here on earth and its dizzying universality in the cosmos.

The birth of the universe’s own eyes and ears and poets and composers and painters and dancers came and as miracles. And still do. In the same way the death of these same poets and artists does not end the births. No, the births keep coming and the deaths do not end them. In my mind this is the true resurrection, the actual reincarnation, the exact moment of rebirth. Death does not end us. We continue. And Spring is just the season to bless and hold this true miracle close to our hearts.