• Tag Archives Latin
  • Bees

    Imbolc                      Waning Wild Moon

    Tomorrow and Sunday I study bees.  The U puts on this course for beginning bee keepers each year.  It’s popular, there are 250 signed up.  I need better information because all my bees are dead.  I think.  I suppose I should check one more time just to be sure.

    Have to have my Latin done by Tuesday afternoon because the tutor is going up north.  With the next two days devoted to bees, that will make Monday and Tuesday Latin days.

    Not much else right now, so, see ya on the backside.


  • Worlds Opening Up

    Imbolc                                     Waning Wild Moon

    On the way into St. Paul tonight I listened to lectures on Epicureanism, Stoicism and Skepticism.  These were especially relevant and resonant for me since Latin is the native language of many who took them up, though their roots were in Greece.  They got me excited about reading Cicero and Polybius, maybe Marcus Aurelius in the original.  It was a fun intersection current learnings.

    Of course, in St. Paul, I play sheepshead with a group who have had varying relations with a Latinate institution, the Roman Catholic Church.  Mostly Jesuits, or ex-Jesuits rather, they have lived inside an institution directly influenced by the Latin language and Roman political culture.

    The  card gods smiled on me tonight, sending me several wonderful hands.  This does not always happen so it’s fun to play them when they come.


  • The Sun! The Sun!

    Imbolc                                        Waning Wild Moon

    On these days I often think of Fantasy Island, when Tatto would say, The plane!  The plane!  I want to run outside in the street and yell, The sun!  The sun!  After a long run of dreary weather the sight of the sun climbing higher and higher in the sky bucks us up and makes us eager for the end of winter.  By now we have earned our spring and the joys of the cold and snow have begun to fade when weighed against the possibility of flowers and vegetables and outdoor walks.

    Most of us do not come to this place without some regret and I’m among them, a part of me yearning for the depths of winter with its ascetic cold and its spare landscape, but the gardener in me has begun to awaken, thinking of which vegetable to put in which plot, how much, what new flowers might look good.

    Another 1,300 words in before Kate and I began to check our work chapter 6 of Wheelock.  She’s improving fast, as I knew she would.  Working together does make a difference, a major positive difference.  And just think how surprised the natives will be when we start using our newly acquired Latin on them.

    What’s that?  All dead?  Really?  Whoa, that’s a pity, all this language and no place to speak it.

    Sierra Club legcom tonight.  7:00 pm sharp.


  • Latin and Asia

    Imbolc                                   Waxing Wild Moon

    Kate and I reviewed our work on chapter 5 in Wheelock this morning.  Then 2,000 words on the novel after the nap.  Workout.  Sierra Club legcom conference call.

    I’ve been reading my fourth Qiu Xiaolong mystery, The Red Mandarin Dress.  These are Chief Inspector Chen novels, set in today’s Shanghai.  They are interesting mysteries, but even more, they are a window into the struggle between the Maoist era and the contemporary one, a period when revolution ruled the land transformed into one in which to get rich is glorious.  These are not easy transitions and they have happened in the blink of an eye in the long history of China.

    Asian art and asian culture, especially Chinese history, philosophy and literature have, for a long time, had my attention.  In my volunteer work at the MIA I have been allowed to indulge my interest in Chinese, Japanese and South Asian art.  This has led to more and more time with asian history, especially Chinese and Chinese poetry.  A casual tinkerer in these vast domains, I have only skimmed the top of a way of life radically different from our own, Western culture, yet, even with its differentness, still more like us than not, the human experience inflected, not the human experience transformed.

    As I’ve watched the Winter Olympics, it doesn’t take a scholar to notice that its largely a northern hemisphere event.  Yes, there are the odd Australians, New Zealanders, but for the the most part it’s North America, Europe and the Asian countries.  Just another way in which we are more like than unlike.


  • An Andover Olypmics?

    Imbolc                                      Waxing Wild Moon

    The winter olympics could have been held in Andover this year.  If we had any mountains.  We’ve had snow and cold, the key ingredients.  Also, Lindsey Vonn and her husband could have stayed in Burnsville instead of Olympic Village, maybe gotten a few runs in at her home hill, Buck Hill.

    Well, it’s the olympic world’s loss.

    (Yayoi Kusama
    Untitled, 1967
    Barbara Mathes Gallery, New York)

    Kate made my/our favorite cookies today.  She also made chicken schnitzel and a warm potato salad with sweet onions last night.  Boy was that good.  All that and she cooks, too.

    Chapter 6 of Wheelock is under my belt and Kate’s working on it right now.  We’re skipping this week so she can catch up.

    I don’t have a tour this Friday, but I do have a Legcom meeting on Wednesday and the docent discussion group tomorrow, focusing on how to discuss contemporary art.  This conversation will be led by an educator from the Walker, a connection made by Allison.  Should be a big help for the contemporary art exhibition:  Up Until Now, coming later this spring.


  • Whee!

    Imbolc                                    Waxing Wild Moon

    Here’s a revelation it’s strange to have this late in life:  I enjoy learning for its own sake.  Now I knew that at one level or another before, it’s true, but here’s what I’ve just learned.  After I finished my workout this evening, I went back to working on Latin translation.  At first I approached the Latin like school, do the work, get it right, then do more work, get it right.  So on.

    But tonight as I sat there puzzling out the meaning of the sentences and the word endings, I realized I was having fun.  This was no longer a goal oriented, hoop-jumping exercise, but something I simply enjoyed.  Like, I don’t know, playing checkers or basketball or chess or dancing.  Strange, huh?

    Maybe it’s always been this way for me, I don’t know.  It feels like a secret, something I shouldn’t tell, but there it is anyhow.  At 63.  There’s always something new around the corner.

    Kate and I had an African evening.  We finished the first season of the HBO series, The First Ladies Detective Agency.  We read all these quite a while ago.  The casting for the series is spot on and seeing the Botswana setting makes the stories come alive even more strongly than in the books themselves.  After we finished the last episode, we watched Duma, a story of a South African boy and a cheetah he raises from a cub.  It has the usual boy reluctantly returns animal to the wild, the animal comes back for one last hug sort of plot line, but with some unusual depth added by his long journey from Capetown back into the bush with Duma, the cheetah and a man he meets in the bush.  Both of them are well worth  watching.  Not my usual dark fare, but good anyhow.


  • Back Into the World of Art

    Imbolc                                   Waxing Wild Moon

    Kate and I didn’t get a chance to check our work before getting on line with Greg, the Latin tutor.  It showed.  Turns out doing this together has a great learning benefit for both of us.  Makes me think retirement with this gal’s gonna be fun.

    The continuing ed at the MIA has left something to be desired lately.  It used to feature art historians, visiting curators, folks like that, now it’s often education staff or something related to process not content.  There’s nothing wrong with the education staff, but they did the docent training.  At the continuing ed events I like to hear outside perspectives, other modes of scholarship, punchy ideas.

    Matthew Welch, the Japanese curator and the head of a curators at the museum, has those scholarly credentials and he takes great care to make his material useful for docents.  He was to give a lecture today on a piece of Japanese armor the museum purchased.  I drove in to hear him because I respect his work.  A lot.  Problem is, they canceled the event by e-mail at 10:45.  I used that time to prep for my tours tomorrow, got on the phone with Greg, then took off for the museum.

    No lecture.  Turns out they had some leakage in the admin wing.  Not such a big deal in some ways, but the leaked happened onto Matthew’s computer.  He’s such a meticulous speaker and uses so many good slides that it wasn’t possible to do the lecture.  A shame.  We’ll pick it up some other time.

    Spent three hours getting ready for my first tours since mid-December.  A group from St. Francis high school, just up Round Lake Boulevard about 7 or 8 miles from home.  They want Spanish art.  As it happens, I got assigned to start on the third floor on the east side of the building which means our Goya is the first painting I can use.  That means I move from Goya to the cubists and from the cubists to the surrealists, then onto the mannerists and, if I get that far, end in the baroque.

    (El Greco’s Burial of Lord Orgaz)

    Going that direction I discovered (for me) an interesting relationship between cubism and surrealism, major art movements at the turn of the 19th century into the 20th, and the mannerists, a style situated between the high renaissance and the baroque.  The two more modern movements used Cezanne and African masks to jump away from illusionistic realism, that is, realism with perspective that attempts to fool the eye into thinking a 2-d image is 3-d.  Cubists took reality apart and put it back together from different perspectives, often using geometric shapes.  Surrealists wanted to peak inside the unconscious and  splay it out on the canvas.  Turns out the mannerists pushed off against the high polish and perspective of the High Renaissance, such masters as Raphael, Michelangelo and Da Vinci.  They turned away from vanishing point perspective, went for spiritual intensity (the unconscious?) and used elongated figures and asymmetrical composition to distinguish their work from the preceding period.

    Someone else noticed this a long time ago, I’m sure, but it was fun to put it together.


  • The Week So Far

    Imbolc                                       Waxing Wild Moon

    Another day in the world of ancient Rome.  Translation continues to be fairly easy for me, though there are certain cases that give some trouble.  So far my learning has kept pace with the chapters.  I hope that continues.

    Kate got pretty weary at work on Monday.  She saw too many patients.  She’s rebounded today, though and I think that’s a good sign for the future.

    Kona, our largest whippet, has a fancy yellow bandage on her right rear leg after having what we believe is a benign growth removed yesterday.   She also has a water resistant sleeve over it, the Medi-Paw, that allows her to go outside.  A good thing.  Like most dogs I’ve known she simply ignores whatever discomfort she’s experiencing and does most of what she did before.  I was laid up for two months plus after my achilles surgery.

    Now a bit on the novel.  Decided I had to start writing again, even though I’m revising, too.  I feel too disconnected from its flow.  Revising is important, but it doesn’t feel like an organic part of the process for me, at least not yet.


  • Sunny Beaches. hmmm. what would that be in latin?

    Imbolc                             Waning Cold Moon

    Kate and I have gone through Chapter 4 in Wheelock.  Onto Chapter 5 with the future and imperfect tenses and their conjugation.  Doing this makes me wonder what other layers of knowledge I have tucked away, not called upon, yet ready to return to duty if asked.  As Greg, our tutor, said, “You learned this already.”  We’ll move out of zone of previous learning, but right now, the auld tongue has come back pretty well.

    Got back in the study today for the novel after the nap.  We do our sessions with Greg at noon on Thursdays, so we spent this morning on review, then in conversation with him.

    The novel has not gone anywhere.  It has not gotten longer while I slept or while I was at Blue Cloud Abbey.  I read much of what I had written, trying to get back in the groove and that took up my writing time for the afternoon.  Tomorrow morning I’ll put fingers to keyboard again.

    Buddy Mark has pics from the beach outside Puerta Vallerta.  The one below of an Aztec dancer has an interesting rattle.


  • Monkish

    Imbolc                                 Waning Cold Moon

    Boy.  3 this morning.  The cold moon has almost winked out and it’s still cold here.

    We have at least 2 feet of snow in our orchard.  The goose berry and currant plants have only a foot of cane showing.  In the way snow has stayed on the ground, this has reminded me of an old fashioned Minnesota winter.

    It’s great learning weather.  Nothing like sitting next to the green metal gas stove in the study, Wheelock on the book stand,  the snow covered boulder wall outside.  Just like a monk in a scriptorium.