A Literary Interlude

I can't for the life of me remember where I came across the following poem, but it has been rattling around in my head for years. One might expect that the poet who could fit such an abundance of birds so tidily in a scarce four lines had dedicated a lifetime to perfecting his art. In fact, though Edward Thomas did earn his living as a prose writer, he only turned to poetry in the very last years of his life.

This poem is one of those cases where the "picture is worth a thousand words" saw is stood upon its head. No matter how luminous the picture, it would have been lacking without the invisible blackbirds.

Veteran's Day

I'm on my way to work, but thought I should post a short something for Veteran's Day. Here's a collection of patriotic tunes played by various military bands. They don't clarify exactly who is playing what, no, but I found it via a link on the USMC San Diego Band's website.

Great-(Lake)-ness

Today was my "library day," upon which, I miraculously returned three volumes of poetry which were not even due for another two weeks. More to the point (but I was just so proud of the aforementioned feat, that I had to mention it. . .afore) I checked out The Illustrated History of Canada, perceiving that the obligation of carting it home would fit tidily into my new exercise regime, even if I never read it. Then again, it's illustrated. How can one not read it. . .or at least sip knowledge from the captions under the pictures?

Early on in the book, I was quite taken with a painting by an English artist named Frances Anne Hopkins. Her husband, Edward Martin Hopkins, was an official of the Hudson's Bay Company during the 1860's. She accompanied him on several of his. . .well, I suppose you could call them business trips, but it seems a very dry description of anything which might involve a group of canoes and the Great Lakes' region. On these trips, Mrs. Hopkins sketched and, when she returned home, painted some striking records of what she had seen.

Here are a couple of examples courtesy of the Library and Archives of Canada:

"Canoe Manned by Voyageurs Passing a Waterfall"

"Shooting the Rapids"

If you look closely, you can see the artist herself in the centre of the boat in both pictures, though she is mostly just hat in the lower one (over the shoulder of the fellow in the light blue shirt), in the waterfall piece, she is hard to miss in a white dress and hat (another hat).

The Cave of Gold

Folklorist Margaret Bennett tells the rather creepy story of the "The Cave of Gold," (Uamh an Oir) and sings the song in the video below.

If you don't have time to watch the whole thing, you can skip ahead to 6:57 where the song starts. The story is, in short, about a piper who decided to explore a mysterious cave in the Isle of Skye, and who fared rather badly in his venture. The song was his lament as he discovered the perils of the cave. (But if you have time to listen to the story here, you should. She tells it better.)

"Read poetry every day of your life. Poetry is good because it flexes muscles you don't use often enough. Poetry expands the senses and keeps them in prime condition. It keeps you aware of your nose, your eye, your ear, your tongue, your hand."

--Ray Bradbury

Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars

We met a professional photographer named Wally Pacholka down at the Death Valley 49ers Encampment a few years ago. This, in itself, was not so unusual, as there are photographers and artists galore down there over that weekend selling their various works. Even in such a crowd, however, Mr. Pacholka stood out. His specialty is photographs of the night sky, shot from angles which incorporate terrestrial landscapes. (You can read a bit about how he does it in the "About the Artist" section on his website, Astropics.) Perhaps even more remarkable than his exceptional photography, however, was his fervor for astronomy. He didn't discuss it as an expert propounding facts to an ignorant public; he just enthused, rather quietly, very selflessly, but with such single-minded attention that it recalled the first roots of the word "ardour" (fr. L ardor burning, as Webster's says). He was excited to point out the Orion Nebula to us, and even loaned us his binoculars so we could have a better look. I don't know what was better--noticing the nebula for the first time, or seeing a person who enjoyed its existence as much as Mr. Pacholka did.

It seems safe to say that his art transfers a degree of that zeal. All of his photographs are well calculated to make you take a second look upwards the next time you're under a night sky, but if I might play favourites, start by taking a look at this one.

Dies Irae (What Else?)

Yes, I would dearly love to be unpredictable, but I had the good fortune to hear an all-male schola sing the "Dies Irae" at Mass yesterday, and remembered just how much I liked it. Perhaps it is the rhyming scheme that sets it apart from most other long Gregorian pieces; this four-line structure makes it a bit more song-like, to my ears, rather than pure chant. Then again, there is the modal structure, which, I am told is a combination of the Dorian and Hypodorian modes. . .(Don't take this to mean I know the first thing about modes; I am just parroting what I read). Whatever the cause, I have always found it a most impressive piece. Sobering, to be sure, but impressive. Here is a solo version by an Italian singer named Giovanni Vianini who directs a Gregorian schola.