thoughts on language

How quickly the day wears on as I research a simple little something that came to me as I opened the curtains this morning and saw yesterday's bud

bloom into this!

I thought to myself:

A rose is a rose

and when I sing

I am a rose

like anything

A paraphrase of Gertrude Stein's poem,

I am Rose my eyes are blue

I am Rose and who are you?

I am Rose and when I sing

I am Rose like anything.

The avant-garde novelist and poet Gertrude Stein was born in Allegheny, Pennsylvania in1874. She was one of the early students at Radcliffe College, the sister school to Harvard University, and her favorite professor was the psychologist William James. He taught her that language often tricks us into thinking in particular ways and along particular lines. As a way of breaking free of language, he suggested she try automatic writing, a method of writing down whatever came into her head as quickly as possible; it's what we might call stream of consciousness today. She loved it, and used it as one of her writing methods for the rest of her life.

"Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose" is possibly Gertrude Stein's most famous quotation, often interpreted as meaning "things are what they are".  It  was written as part of the 1913 poem "Sacred Emily" where the first "Rose" is actually the name of a person. Stein later used variations of this sentence as in that little poem above.  In Stein's view, the "Rose is a rose..." sentence invokes the imagery and the emotions associated with something- like a rose- simply by using the name of that thing.

As the quotation was reworked through her own writing, and the culture at large (it had an unusual impact once published), Stein once remarked, "Now listen! I’m no fool. I know that in daily life we don't go around saying 'is a ... is a ... is a ...' Yes, I’m no fool; but I think that in that line the rose is red for the first time in English poetry for a hundred years." (my italics)

In explanation, she once said to an audience at Oxford University that the statement referred to the fact that when the Romantics used the word "rose", it had a direct relationship to an actual rose. For later periods in literature this would no longer be true. The eras following Romanticism, notably the modern era, use the word rose to refer to the actual rose, yet they also imply, through the use of the word, the archetypical elements of the Romantic era.

Nevertheless, this quote of Gertrude's Stein's has gone down in infamy, often provoking sarcasm and derision like that of poet William Carlos Williams in his 1955 poem "The Pink Locust" where he quotes "a rose is a rose is a rose" as an indication of the poet's self-deprecation in relation to life, denying the value of the creative act, that the poet feels impotent and recognises in her art merely a banal repetition of the words we use every day to represent the unrepresentable richness of the natural world.

This is a long bit of preamble for this post, so please forgive me as I add my thoughts on the decline of language skills, or as some would call it, "the evolution".  Every day I experience poor use of language skills, just as often by media as individuals. It shouldn't still surprise me as this has been going on for years and has clearly become normalized. Don't get me started on communication....

That's my Friday rant.
I will proceed with pictures which, as they say, are worth you-know-what.

an avid bee in a sweetpea

not a honey bee but maybe the leafcutter I showed you in a past post  

yellow dill flowers and zucchini blossom at the bottom

dill flowers make such a lovely fireworks

Zucchinis are coming in 

After some research, I suspect that the neighbours' tree that leans into the back end of our yard is a ...

black cherry

Except for a few missing grapes, so far so good

The broad leafed plant I call prehistoric is finally releasing a group of flowers from their pod

It is one of the most unusual flowerings I've ever seen

the hosta lilies

What a fabulous mutation that the pistil lays below the sheltered stamen in order to catch the pollen

Back on the porch on this dreadfully hot morning, the basil are finally coming in after quite a stunted start. The cherry tomatoes behind them will be my treat while I hang laundry.

You may remember that I've ventured a few posts back into doing a 2 page "spread", wanting to do more composite works. An experiment with collage elements using Mrs. Tiggywinkle from Beatrix Potter's book of the same name and another of those Tim Holtz cutouts. Time Holtz washi tape runs along the farmost right. Wanting to incorporate some of my own writing, I found I was at a loss as to what to say so I lifted some of my own text from a previous blog post. I used coloured pencils to "age" the pages and tie the elements together.

Still in a brown mood, this drawing is done in just two coloured pencils.

I find I often like my monochromatic works better. It's easier to build on the lights and darks and they are calmer to my sensibilities as finished works even though I love the process of working with brights.

Thank you as always for visiting here.

I am honoured most especially by those of you who make repeat visits to this blog. It is with you in mind that I continue to post as it is a lonely business with only the occasional, though much appreciated  comment. I'm hoping that it is only because it is mid summer and so many folks are away on holiday that my stats show a drop in viewers. So thank you dear folks who hang in there with me.

sweet summer dreams 

morning garden

These are the dog days of summer, named for Sirius, the dog star, its brightest in the night sky this time of year, that seems to be timed with summer's greatest heat and its ensuing lethargy.

I open the windows for Muji, this morning's shot of him, and Babu, until it's just too hot.

I rarely venture out mid-day, unless it's to hang laundry or fill the birdbath. Mornings and evenings are my time to escape.

This morning, however, was a touch cooler and I ventured out.

the Purple and Mauve Petunias with the deep blue Lobelia in one pot

and the pretty pink Dahlias in another

pink and white geraniums and mauve petunias 

morning dew on a flowering onion 

too pretty for one shot

zucchini blossom

more zucchini- each blossom represents a zucchini squash to come.

upper left: garlic... below: lettuce... middle: swiss chard... upper right: peas

blueberries

peaches

This year we've put bird netting around our little tree

to keep the blue jays from pecking the living daylights out of our little peaches

Bird Netting will hardly discourage the deer from taking our Harelson apples,

but one can always hope.

The hydrangea are hanging as if it has rained, but now it is their own weight that keeps them bowed.

Wally's new rose bush is blooming again

Tiger Lilies are finally blooming

a white hollyhock in the lily garden

looking back towards Forget-Me-Not Cabin

in back of the cabin looking Southeast there is the spicy scent of Sweetgrass, but it must be the Goldenrod which is so prolific this year.

the hayfield looking East Southeast

Everyone, including me, seems to be sneezing. It's not just the goldenrod. There are all kinds of pollens in the air.

and now looking east

At my feet, the vetch is weaving through the honeysuckle,

its little pods beginning to dry out.

The Fibonacci Swirl in action on this drying weed flower and more subtly in the flower itself.

The Echinacea around the Composter are thriving,

the Lavender below. 

Little yellow pollen stamen are skirting the seed head of the Echinacea

This makes the Bumblebee happy

as he gathers pollen on his back legs

The Sweet Pea wants some of the action and is tangling itself up on this Echinacea seed head which is actually shifting to seed as its pointy orange bits burgeon out.

The long spires of the Liatris Spicata, commonly known as Spike Gayfeather, 

reminding me very much of the beautiful menace that can fill up waterways in Muskoka, and Nova Scotia too, Purple Loosestrife- but not nearly as invasive.

It  is blooming from the top down and is actually the colour of the buds below the top blooms. 

That's my camera for ya.

The pictures keep coming. I've come to accept that it doesn't matter where I start; a picture is going to come out of it. I scribbled the wolf one day. You must understand that animals come easy to me which is why I concentrate so much on faces these days. It's an indication of how tired or distracted I am if I revert to animals. I did this over a week ago. The cutout is from a new pack of them that Tim Holtz is putting out. I came upon a damaged pack yesterday and got it at a substantially reduced price so you can be sure you will be seeing more of them. It's fun to have something quick to resort to though it actually took me quite a while to place her in this eerie position. 

pencils crayons, Ranger white "opaque" pen, Sharpie gold paint pen and the Tim Holtz paper cutout

Don't Stop Believing In Yourself

all pencil crayon but for some India ink Pitt pen and 7 Gypsies rub on letters "don't stop"

I went to bed that night after writing "believing" not wanting to end it there.

I came up with "in yourself" after realizing how far I've come in so many ways.

I wish the same for you.

There is a world of possibilities to choose from.

It takes a long time, sometimes, to discern which is the road to take.

The Road Not Taken 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

by Robert Frost

fair weather

When we say "we're having some weather", we mean something more severe than usual.
When I hear about tornados in Ontario where I'm from originally, my memories from before we left come up short. The damage and devastation can be frightening if not tragic.

I'm glad to swap them for our severe weather here in Nova Scotia in the form of hurricanes and blizzards, and the outrageous heat that comes to the Annapolis Valley. So far, this summer has been fairly kind to us.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,

Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st.

     So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

     So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

William Shakespeare wrote this- Sonnet 18- over 400 years ago. There is an exquisite beauty in his words that touches me to my core. This is the greatest lesson of being human- to come to know beauty beyond the ravages of time, to know the essence of life beyond physical beauty and recognize that as the truly beautiful.

Muji has been fussy about eating lately, but eventually he caves in and gets what he needs.

He's rarely playful. Babu has taught him to play tag.

But here he takes an interest in my bag folding.

His long "fingers" latch onto a compact triangle that interests him.

Then he strikes an "I don't care" pose that makes me think that's the end of it. 

Ah, but the hunt is not over.

Muji makes another reach

and he reaches out again

A bite is much more effective than a finger grab, and he pulls it off the table.

the Look.

I've never heard of, let alone used, an 8B graphite stick, so I was happy to get my fingers dirty playing around with this.

fair weather to you dear viewers,

and when it isn't clear sailing

 let us keep an even keel

cherish this moment