Discontent

This is the season of my discontent.

Lying in the cold, wondering where the summer went...

Was there not a spring? 

Has Autumn all been spent?

You'll have to grant me pardon now if I seem discontent.

This is the worst of times, when better times have gone,

deserting me and hurting me, leaving me alone.

Did I give offense?

Pray! Say! Tell! what I did so wrong,

to incur the wrath of colder times, when better times have gone?

April - History's Busiest Month

April is one of the most active times of the year historically. There is reason for this. In the past, before airplanes and other modern conveniences became available, April marked the end of winter and the roads became passable. New conflicts arose and old ones resumed. Just look at our own American history; which is fairly recent in the grand scheme of things; and you will see the pattern.

The Revolutionary War began in April, with the landing of the Kings troops in Boston and the Battle of Lexington and Concord. Our Civil War may have technically begun in January, but it wasn’t prosecuted in full until the Battle of Bull Run in the spring. The war also ended in April, just in time for General Lee’s troops to return home and try to coax a harvest out of their war ravaged land.

The picture above is “April”, or “Avril” from “Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry”, which is translated as The Very Rich Hours of the Duke of Berry.” I ran across this beautiful collection of French Gothic Art while looking up some information for this post. The complete work consists of 12 panels, each one representing a month of the year. This panel shows a couple exchanging rings.

Now, I could continue on with what would be a very boring piece about the importance of the weather in history; which is what makes April so significant in regards to the amount of historical events contained in any single month. Or, I can tell you about these new paintings I just “discovered.” I’ll take the latter option.

Apparently, at the dawn of the 15^th Century; about 1400 A.D.; there was a Frenchman who had some money and wanted to chronicle the months of the year in paintings which also represented his lifestyle. To that end he commissioned the Limbourg Brothers to create a 12 panel set. The work was begun in 1412 but by 1416 the two brothers; as well as the Duke of Berry; were all dead. The paintings then passed on to his relatives, where it languished for several decades.

In 1845 an heir of the Dukes decided to have the work completed. He chose Jean Colombe to finish the set. Though his paintings are in many ways distinguishable from the original ones completed by the Limbourg Brothers, the spirit of the project remains wholly intact. Upon first viewing it would appear that these paintings were the result of one unbroken effort on the part of the Limbourgs, rather than a project which was completed years later by another artist.

You can see all of the paintings; as well as read about them here;

http://www.saylor.org/site/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Tres-Riches-Heures-du-Duc-de-Berry.pdf

This is one of the best things about blogging. I am always learning things. When I look up one thing I bump into another. It’s endless; underscoring just how much there is to learn in the short time which we are given to learn anything at all. Now, that’s a sobering thought…

As far as my post about April; there was one part in which I was going to explain how the name represents an “opening”, or “blooming” of a new season. Also, in many Asian countries April 15 is celebrated as the New Year, which coincides with the spring planting. There were lots of other boring things I was going to relate; like the Titanic going down, etc.  But they all paled in comparison to these wonderful paintings which I had never seen before.

New Ways to Feel Worse

It seems that there is no end to the new ways we invent to make ourselves feel worse. Take something as simple as the weather for example. In the winter it gets cold, and not content with merely being cold, we have come up with the "Wind Chill Factor", which is the seeming effect of the wind making the true temperature "feel" colder than it actually is. And now, with the dog days of summer upon us, we have the "Heat Index", another set of factors which combine the actual temperature with the lack of wind, and abundance of humidity, to let us know that we are feeling hotter than we already are. This, to me, seems a dubious practice.

It's kind of like during the Carter years. We all knew we were miserable, but they had to come up with the "Misery Index" to describe our fiscal discomfort. A way to intensify it. This heat index, as well as the wind chill factor seems about the same to me. It is specifically aimed at making you feel worse than you already do.

When I was a kid I loved when it hit 100 degrees. I would go bike riding just to say I had riden in the intense heat. There was a sense of accomplishment in dealing with it, rather than a dread of the weather. I understand that the climate has changed, and that for some groups, myself included, this new information is necessary. But it sure doesn't make me feel any better.

I went out yesterday, against all the advice of the newspapers and radio. And guess what? They were right. The air was bad, and inside of an hour I was home, feeling terrible. So, what's the answer? I don't know. But I'm going out again today. To paraphrase Dylan Thomas, I will not, "Go Gentle into That Good Night." Nor will I disappear into the blaze of a hot summer's day.

Note: The Dylan Thomas analogy may be a stretch, but it was worth the try. Here is the poem by Mr. Thomas;

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

This Should Be Illegal

Woke up this morning, looked at the thermometer and went back to bed. There oughta be a law....