Blitherings – Page 163 – Ink, Yarn & Beer

Summer’s Days

Today is the last day of my vacation. Different activities have wandered in and out of my weeks off. Mundane things, such as car repairs, have taken up time. Spinning and reading and knitting and playing games and socializing and calligraphy and photography and painting and studying are amongst the other activities. Probably the most amusing, though, has been reading a popular book about a certain witch and vampire . . . if you are into the subject matter, you know of whom I write.

Elizabethan Script from a Devotional in the Beinecke Library

It has been a fun journey into Elizabethan (Tudor) England, and its historical figures. I have read about Sir Walter Raleigh and his unhappy end; about Nicholas Hilliard, the limner and miniaturist (his work is quite admirable); Edmund Spenser; Thomas Harriot, who was an Einstein of his time; Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland; Mad Kit Marlowe (I read his plays in college); Matthew Roydon. I’ve also looked up articles on quill cutting for writing purposes – I used to cut my own quills years ago – and the different hands used in Elizabethan England. Ink recipes, too.

I dug out my own dip pens, and steel nibs (19th and 20th century items) to practice handwriting with such. Poor paper, which is porous and pulls the ink out of the nib in blurry blobs, yields frustrating results. Bond paper, such as 24 lb. copier paper, is far better, but not ideal. Wider nibs, made by Speedball, require deep wells to hold the ink. While practicing such, I decided that I would look up a poem apropos to the era, and found one by Roydon: An Elegy; or, Friend’s Passion for his Astrophel.

From there, on to different poetry archives, with poems by Sir Raleigh, Edmund Spenser, Shakespeare and others. However, for some reason, this one popped up without any planned search, just by clicking on the name of the author, Royall Snow:

Watteau Panels

i. A Melody with Sombre Chords

Pierrot draws aside the willows
As a curtain,
And naïve Columbine steps through.
In the moonlight–
Like the twinkling of silver minnows
The gurgling brook winks at Pierrot.
He had come there before.

ii. Danse Macabre
From a hidden orchestra
Drifts in blurred melody the valse hesitation
A dancer presses his partner’s hand
Commandingly.

iii. Acquiescence
“No,” whispers the woman
And turns her head
So that the moonlight falls on her bare throat.

Given the subject matter of my reading, one cannot help but wonder why this one poem appeared.

Sneak Peak

Been Gone, With Friends

It’s vacation time – but this has been a stay-cation, with trips hither and yon, and work around the house, and reading, and doing continuing education units. Not a very exciting time, really. However, visits with friends and family are always welcome, and just knowing I can sleep in if I want, or stay up late, and just not do anything is a real vacation in and of itself. I think I would have done more, but every day the weather has been hot and up in the 90s and 100s. Heat and I do not get along well.

Weather is certainly changing in our area. The coast is 20 miles away, and 20 degrees cooler, too, but even along the coastline, where summer fog is the norm, has been clear and warmer than usual. The trip to Venice Beach should have been welcomingly cool, but it wasn’t. Last night, in the late afternoon, members of our little photo group met in old town Ventura, which is halfway between Santa Barbara and Los Angeles, and right on the coast. Here, I could finally cool off.

It is really enjoyable to get together with a bunch of people with similar interests, and in taking pictures, I took some of my fellow photographers. We also did dinner and dessert, and had a fun time wandering around.

In a few minutes, a friend is coming by for a beer. We are making smoked pulled pork for dinner, and the smoking is begun. Another lazy summer day.

A Bit of Madness

Yesterday, out in the broiling sun, smathered in sunscreen, but I still got burned.

Along the coast, it was hot; in the 80s. Moving into the valley, it was over 100.

We drove through Topanga Canyon, south onto the Pacific Coast Highway, and into the throngs along the Boardwalk of Venice Beach!

In the Moment

Our dog is very old, and getting doggy dementia. He was running around a bit, seeming anxious, and then comes the unmistakable sound of peeing.

How can you be mad about something like that? He was lost and confused in the house, and probably couldn’t remember where the door was. He knew he had to get out, but just could not figure out how. So I showed him.

Out to the patio we went, through the normal pathways of the house. Here!

And in that moment of early morning, the sun was reflecting through the water droplets left on the calla stems, golden and warm. (Not like pee at all!)