Carnations

This carnation is in its stunning blossom.

Mum was talking about removing some old books from the house.
I remember there are boxes and boxes of books of folklore and fairy-tale that I used to read over and over again in my youth.
One of the folktales is about the origin of carnations.

Long time ago (what a fairytale opening!), in the heavens lived a goddess and a lot of fairy girls.
It happened in a year that the fairy girls agreed that each of them would create a new species of flower to be dedicated to the goddess on her birthday.

All the fairies, young and mature, spent loads of time preparing their floral presents, except for one little fairy girl. She was probably only 10 years old and was still too naughty to remember important things. She totally forgot this mission and did not remember it until the last minute. Having been having fun in the wild for the entire day, she did not have any material available to her at the moment. She was crying over her carelessness and worried what she could do instead. She was hopeless, everyone thought so.

Crying hard, she used her dirty skirt to wipe tears from her face.
Suddenly, the torn edges of the skirt gave her an inspiration.
She smiled and had an idea about the present.

She made a flower out of the ragged skirt.
It was a brilliant idea!

This new flower is carnation, from a naughty girl's skirt.

どうも　ありがとうね、浩司さん！
私わ　この　えわがきが　好きです。

York Mystery Plays, 16th of July 2006 (Sun) III: Pentecost

In the end of the play, the characters let go of the balloons with which their aspirations went upwards.
With the balloons rising high, every audience was watching the blue dots until they disappeared into the sky.
It was a spirit-up-lifting scene that spoke to a variety of sentiments in a universal language of image.

We don't need to hold our hope object tight.
Loose our hold, look to it, an entire picture of it will come to mind,
And we will be able to find a path right.

Balloon is a cliched symbol of hope, but sometimes the simpler a symbol is, a more effective reminder it is.



It was toward the evening when "Pentecost", one of the mystery plays, was presented. These blue bubbles were flying against the natural backdrop coloured by sunset blue. In the performance, this scene was used to represent the ascension of the disciples.

This play used to be performed by the trade of potters in the Middle Ages. This time it was brought forth by Pocklington School, a boarding and day public school in the north of England. These teenage actors dressed up like potters and they even composed a dance of the potters. The beautiful smiles and fearless innocence of these youthful performers have best annotated the idea of faith that is central to the original play, however it is interpreted within or without the religious context.

It used to be a roll of toilet paper.

Travelogue IV: Chicago, 7-11 May, 2006: Information Feeders

This is one of the amusing objects that I found in the cityscape in Chicago: magazine and newspaper feeders. These colorful plastic boxes always stand quitely one next to another on sidewalks ready to feed busy city passengers with loads of information. But it's not a charity work unfortunately, you have to pay their hardword for sure!

A variety of "useful" information is provided, including daily newspaper, gossip news and some "small aids" for the industry of human desire.

Usually there are 4 or 5 feeders in a group, but this "troupe" that was spotted in Oak Park, a suburban area of Chicago, is unbelievably and amusingly long. They are not pretty, but they are very loyal companions to the city life in Chicago (I am not sure if other US cities also have them).

They look somehow similar to still-standing teletubbies.

Source of image

Ducks, by Willem Maris, c. 1880, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

I have been complaining to some friends about the cold weather these days in York, even though some of the entries on this blog last month are about my "serious concerns" about the global "warming" issue.

I am just self-contradictory, I know.

This is typical British summer, some friends reminded me, chilly, rainy, harsh, and windy.
No, I defied this explanation, at least last year wasn't like this, I tried to argue, it was always sunny as far as I can remember.

But I don't have a right position to argue. It's only my second summer here in Britain.

There must be something wrong with my memory. The memory.

I should be very pleased about the fact that I only remember sunny days.
Bravo! the memory.

Earlier this month when it was still sunny and warm, all kinds of fowls were easily seen everywhere on campus. Goslings, cygnets, ducklings were busy exploring the world in the sun with excitement. These baby creatures have composed the most favorite touristy sight on the university campus, I suppose. These birds are indispensable to everyone's memory of York.

In addition to these innocent newborn, adult ducks' quack-quack is also unforgettable. (You can vaguely hear that in the background in the video clip too.)
I don't particularly like the sound, but it is indeed very impressive.

It is naughty, funny, scornful, straightforward, sophisticated, and scary, at least to me.

During a Latin class in the early spring of 2005, as I remember, we were reviewing some Latin conjugation and declension. While a coursemate was struggling to chant a string of suffixes, "laudo, laudas, laudat, lauda??, ...,.., mm...", a duck was quacking crazily non-stop outside the classroom.

As everyone was very nervous during the entire drill, the classroom was extremely quiet except the broken chant that the nervous boy tried to sing along.

The quacking was very sharp.

And the quack seemed never to stop.

At that tense moment, I couldn't help but let out a laugh.
The classroom was even more quiet.

It was very embarrassing as I wasn't at all laughing at the poor boy. I didn't mean it.
It's the crazy quack-quack.

It recalled to my mind the hysterical laughter of Stephen Chow, whose recent film, "Kung Fu Hustle", just swept the world. The quack was especially like the arrogant and high-pitch sound which Chow makes to scorn his opponents in his films.
I must have had imagined Chow's merciless face on that innocent(?) duck before that unforgiveable burst.

The quack sound is never kind.
Funny, but never kind, especailly in chilly days.

A Roll of Toilet Paper