First Snow

Monday morning . . .

The traditional barefoot walk to ensure good health for the year.

Which always make me wonder--would a broken bone count as ill health?  

I choose to think not.

 

This Place . . .

                                             ... has gone to the dogs!

62 Years--So Far, So Good

 Another anniversary rolls around. We have been so fortunate in our life together.

Josie's Art

 

Mellow Daze

 

But Which Leaf?

After mentioning in a previous post a character in a novel whose hair color was described as feuille morte (dead leaf), I began to wonder just which dead leaf. They do come in a variety of shades. 

 Further online investigation led me to a definition of brownish-orange or yellowish -brown. Or ochre

or sienna.

Then I remembered another novel and another odd French name for a color--a woman was describing a silk ball gown in a killing merde d'oie. Aka goose shit green--a brownish-green. 

I thought that sounded fairly unattractive, but then I stumbled on a shade called caca de dauphin. Those French! The (probably apocryphal) story behind this name is that Marie Antoinette was holding the baby prince when he pooped all over her. Rather than being disgusted, the queen marveled at the color --yellow, as is common in young breast-fed babies--and ordered a dress of that exact color--which color, of course, became popular in court circles.

Until the Revolution.

 

Moonrise

 

Feuilles-Mortes

                                                                     

 

Brown is probably my least favorite color, closely followed by grey. I know there are countless beautiful shades of each but still, like James Taylor, deep greens and blues are the colors I (mostly) choose. 

But the shapes of these dead leaves enthrall me and present a challenge to capture them. So I find myself exploring the browns and enjoying it. Though I've taken some liberties . . .

Now I understand why the beautiful Irene of Galsworthy's The Forsyte Saga was described as having hair the color of feuille morte--dead leaf. It puzzled me when I first read it sixty years ago, but now I think I understand.

In checking my facts, I was delighted to discover that the Saga is online free. Check it out HERE 

Into November

 

Dear Sir

                                                 

 Dear "Representative" Edwards,

Are you enjoying your paid vacation? Living it up while many of your constituents go without pay or food assistance and with the threat of prohibitively priced health insurance?

Are you comforted by the news of a shiny marble bathroom in the White House? Did you thrill to the sight of POTUS at his lavish Gatsby party, celebrating conspicuous consumption while denying SNAP funding?

Is your mind at rest during your paid vacation because you know your Dear Leader is in charge and the House is powerless to resist him? 

You and your party disgust me.

An unrepresented constituent

Living in Middle Earth

                                              Looking at the beauty surrounding us, I sometimes feel like the astronauts who looked back at the beautiful blue ball of Earth and wondered how something so lovely could contain so much suffering and hatred.

Rabbit Rabbit

 

The Magus by John Fowles

After reading Fowles's French Lieutenant's Woman, I decided to revisit his The Magus, last read probably thirty or forty years ago. It had left an indelible impression on me as a work of marvelous descriptions and intriguing characters, plus a twisting plot with more questions than answers.

I sought out an unabridged audio version and was not disappointed--the narrator Nicolas Boulton does an excellent job with the diverse characters and accents. It's a feast of over 26 hoursa of listening.

The surprise for me was how much I grew to dislike the main character--who is pretty much an anti-hero--and how disappointed I was at the ambiguous ending, despite a earlier warning from the author. (This novel, like The French Lieutenant's Woman, is metafiction in which the author occasionally addresses the reader, reminding them of the essential fiction of the telling.)

I very much enjoyed the hours of listening--even as I grew increasingly annoyed with the protagonist--something I don't remember from previous readings. 

I wonder if it's my age or the times in which we live that changed my attitude.