A Place for Peonies

For Robert and Others

a peony at Merry Mount

You say (pee uh nee), and I say (pee oh nee)

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet”

A peony by any name would look the same.

History and Etymology for peony

Middle English piony, from Anglo-French peonie, pioiné, from Latin paeonia, from Greek paiōnia, from Paiōn Paeon, physician of the gods

peonies at Merry Mount

We have a saying at Merry Mount: “When you are at Merry Mount, you do as you please,” which includes pronunciation.  Those of us who were trained as “classical singers”, were taught precise/proper pronunciation of several languages including English.  But as I become more and more contrary, I find myself less concerned with exact and “correct” pronunciation.  Maybe this stance comes with age.  I once asked one of my mentors, Italo Tajo (a Giant among midgets), whether a final [e] vowel should be “opened” or “closed” at the end of an Italian word and he chuckled and said, “as long as the word is understood, the final sound doesn’t matter”.  I continue to learn from my mentor.

Italo Tajo (1915-1993)

Now let’s consider dialect.

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines dialect as:

a regional variety of language distinguished by features of vocabulary, grammar, and pronunciation from other regional varieties and constituting together with them a single language.

If we were to have a gathering of people at Merry Mount from various regions of the United States (let’s say from Boston, Knoxville, Savannah, Minneapolis, Boise, and Los Angeles), we could have an interesting conversation about the morphology, phytochemistry, and genome of Paeoniaceae, perhaps understand each other, but in the end probably agree that peonies are incredibly beautiful.

So, I leave you with these lyrics by Ira Gershwin.

You say either and I say either
You say neither and I say neither
Either, either, neither, neither
Let's call the whole thing off

You like potato and I like potahto
You like tomato and I like tomahto
Potato, potahto, tomato, tomahto
Let's call the whole thing off

But, oh, if we call the whole thing off
Then we must part
And, oh, if we ever part, then that might break my heart

So if you like pajamas and I like pajamas
I'll wear pajamas and give up pajahmas
For we know we need each other so we
Better call the whole thing off
Let's call the whole thing off

You say laughter and I say larfter
You say after and I say after
Laughter, larfter, after, arfter
Let's call the whole thing off

You like vanilla and I like vanella
You sarsaparilla, and I sarsapirella
Vanilla, vanella, chocolate, strawberry
Let's call the whole thing off

But, oh, if we call the whole thing off, then we must part
And, oh, if we ever part, then that might break my heart

So if you go for oysters and I go for ersters
I'll order oysters and cancel the ersters
For we know we need each other so we
Better call the calling off off
Let's call the whole thing off

I say father, and you say pater
I saw mother and you say mater
Pater, mater, uncle, auntie
Let's call the whole thing off

I like bananas and you like banahnahs
I say Havana and I get Havahnah
Bananas, banahnahs, Havana, Havahnah
Go your way, I'll go mine

So if I go for scallops and you go for lobsters
So, all right, no contest, we'll order lobseter
For we know we need each other so we
Better call the calling off off
Let's call the whole thing off

 CPW

A Place for (of) Joy

He who binds to himself a joy

Does the winged life destroy

He who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in eternity’s sunrise

            William Blake (1757-1827)

This photo of Joy hugging Eva is a moment captured in time. Even as we gaze at it, the beauty inherent in it makes an imprint on our minds, and the memory of it begins to fade.  Five minutes from now, that memory will have changed, thus is the nature of joy and beauty.  But is that imprint on our minds captured for eternity? Are all memories gathered on a great grid of collective consciousness that at the final moment of omnipotence (the Omega Point) Heaven is achieved?

Endymion

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways 
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
Against the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

            -John Keats (1795-1821)

Enjoy!

CPW

A Place for Purple

Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple

Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple
Leaping like Leopards to the Sky
Then at the feet of the old Horizon
Laying her spotted Face to die
Stooping as low as the Otter's Window
Touching the Roof and tinting the Barn
Kissing her Bonnet to the Meadow
And the Juggler of Day is gone

                                    -Emily Dickinson

I have noticed at Merry Mount that Mother Nature seems to paint her canvas with selected colors related to season. Spring tends to be a time of dominance for vibrant greens and occasional purples.  Summer is a time for yellows; Autumn is filled with red, orange, brown, and olive; and Winter is a time of white, grey, and charcoal.

Politically speaking, we have become an extremely polarized nation symbolically represented by red and blue.  Purple is sometimes used to designate regions that have mixed loyalties. 

At Merry Mount, we (and most of our visitors) strongly lean toward blue, but we live in Madison county, which is predominately red.  In order to keep an open mind, I must be willing to listen to an opposing argument and if it is convincing enough, be willing to “wear purple”.

There once was a man named Merkle

Whose political views were “a-slurple”

He leaned toward red,

Recovered his head,

Then decided he’d settle on Purple.

            -CPW

But I have digressed, and should be brought back to an ideal world by Emily Dickinson.

Purple Cover

There is a flower that bees prefer,
And butterflies desire;
To gain the purple democrat
The humming-birds aspire.

And whatsoever insect pass,
A honey bears away
Proportioned to his several dearth
And her capacity.

Her face is rounder than the moon,
And ruddier than the gown
Of orchis in the pasture,
Or rhododendron worn.

She doth not wait for June;
Before the world is green
Her sturdy little countenance
Against the wind is seen,

Contending with the grass,
Near kinsman to herself,
For privilege of sod and sun,
Sweet litigants for life.

And when the hills are full,
And newer fashions blow,
Doth not retract a single spice
For pang of jealousy.

Her public is the noon,
Her providence the sun,
Her progress by the bee proclaimed
In sovereign, swerveless tune.

The bravest of the host,
Surrendering the last,
Nor even of defeat aware
When cancelled by the frost.

            -Emily Dickinson

Have an opinion!

CPW

A Place for Seeds

Chaos is a field

In which every kind of seed is sown.

From this field of consciousness

Grows all manifestations of order.

                        C. Patrick Woliver

May is planting season in central Ohio and Rett and I have started to plant seeds. Actually, Rett began planting some seeds indoors, under the “grow light” back in February, and presently our upstairs is full of various 6-inch tomato plants ready to put in the garden once the dirt becomes dry and warm enough to sustain the plants.

A “successful” garden takes planning, organization, and a lot of time and work.  Sometimes it seems as if there is a battle going on between the gardener and Mother Nature.  Ordered rows of selected plants “compete” against the endless onslaught of Nature’s weeds (one definition of weed is: a plant that is growing in an unwanted place).   If one walks into a patch of woods, one discovers all types of plants randomly spread throughout in what seems to be a chaotic display.  

On the contrary, we gardeners attempt to bring order to our arrangement of plants either for easy harvest or for a specific display.

Isn’t one’s life like the attempt to grow a garden?  How much order can one carve out of chaos?  When does one “give over”?

ARCHIBALD:

A bit of earth

She wants a little bit of earth

She'll plant some seeds

The seeds will grow

The flowers bloom

But is their bounty

What she needs?

How can she chance

To love a little bit of earth?

Does she not know?

The earth is old

And doesn't care if

One small girl wants things to grow

A bit of earth

She wants a little bit of earth

She'll plant some seeds

The seeds will grow

The flowers bloom

Their beauty just the thing she needs

She'll grow to love the tender roses

Lilies fair, the iris tall

And then in fall, her bit of earth

Will freeze and kill them all!

            -lyrics by Marsha Norman from The Secret Garden

"The Buddhist tradition [uses] seeds to convey teachings. The first line of the Dhammapada states, “Our life is shaped by our mind; we become what we think.” The idea is that thoughts are the seeds that give rise to actions, habits, and character. The seeds of unskillful or harmful behaviors lie in the mind. With awareness and practice, we can begin to dig up undesirable seeds (jealousy, anger, ignorance), and can even begin to plant new seeds for a happier future (by practicing the six paramita: generosity, ethics, patience, joyful effort, meditation, and wisdom).

Over time, with effort, your Buddha nature (enlightened consciousness) expresses itself more and more fully. This aspect of interior knowing (which goes by many names- Christ consciousness, Messiah, Atman, etc.) is lying there in wait, like a seed in the ground. Spiritual practice helps that seed to emerge and blossom."

from: http://www.chooseyourmetaphor.com/wiki-metaphor-seed/

Let’s go and grow.

CPW