This weekend the internet radio station I’m involved with in Second Life will be playing English Country Dance music from a band I’ve danced to!
Bare Necessities began playing professionally in 1978 for the Country Dance Society Boston Centre , and they are now known worldwide for their unique presentation of English country dance music.
Heather at Cabinet of Wonders has written a beautiful post about the seasons where she lives (particularly the one just beginning): All That the Rains Bring.
It may not be frozen, but it can be tiresome, being wet for a whole season; sometimes I envy people in the deep cold, who stay dry in their low temperatures. There is something about cold water trickling into your inner clothing, and the constant presence of mud, which can get to you after awhile.
I’ll just quote here the comment I left there:
Thank you for a wonderful, evocative post! I grew up in the desert in Southern California, but went to college in Davis and lived afterwards in San Francisco before coming East. (I now live in that mythical home-world, Massachusetts.)
Oddly enough, of the seasons here winter reminds me most of the desert—the trees are bare and skeletal, so you can see the ground and the hills that are obscured by green much of the year. And the weather itself is dangerous. Having grown up in the desert, I’m ambivalent about moisture, and I do indeed prefer, if it’s going to be cold and wet, that it be cold enough for the wet to be snow. 28 and snowing is preferable to 38 and rain–and far preferable to 33 and freezing rain!
I describe the seasons of Northern California to my friends as being three: Green, Gold, and Brown. Green, of course, is the season you so beautifully describe just beginning. Gold is the shortest season, but beautiful. And Brown is that dry and sometimes worrisome season when the reservoirs and the fires need an eagle eye.
It’s an untitled page, and words cannot describe these photos of eyes. (Hat tip to Kottke.)
Edit: The site is more properly viewed here, under special projects, eyescapes.
The irony, of course, is that I hardly ever get around to sending Christmas cards. But my Second Life alter-ego, Otenth Paderborn, is part of a neo-Victorian community where it is an absolute must to send greetings, so I hunted around and found this graphic to make a card. (Click the image for a larger view. The graphic is from the December 1888 issue of Harper’s New Monthly Magazine.)
A really cool project in the UK: The Woodland Trust | Ancient Tree Hunt
Help us to find and map all the old, fat trees across the UK.
Well, I’ve cherry-picked the best part of Paul’s post: Showers of Blessings: La Natividad: Year 2
The most touching part for me happens at St. Paul’s when, through a nice bit of stagecraft, the masked José y Maria are replaced with a flesh-and-blood couple holding a real baby. The switcheroo can’t be seen by the audience until the right moment when the adoring animals and wise men part, and when they realize what’s happened and see the living actors and baby there’s a spontaneous “ohhhh” that fills the church. I tear up every time. I realized tonight that this is what happens whenever we are able to break through the masquerade of religion and illusion and encounter the Living God on the other side.
But how better to note his beautiful image of breaking through illusion to the Living God.
I’ve just finished the last two Anthony Trollope novels set in the ecclesiastical environs of Barsetshire: The Small House at Allington and The Last Chronicle of Barset. Repeating the pattern I found in earlier volumes, these two novels complement one another, although the Last Chronicle, as befits a novel by that name, does bring back some beloved (and not so beloved) characters from earlier tales. I shed a tear or two as I discovered heroes in unexpected places, felt for dashed hopes, and said goodbye to what felt like old friends.
I find myself quite satisfied with the experience of reading these books, and intend to continue with Trollope’s Palliser novels.
The Nation has a review of Liberty and the News by Walter Lippmann. It (the book!) was written in 1920, but it sounds like it has a lot to say for today.
“There can be no higher law in journalism than to tell the truth and shame the devil.”
One of the engaging things about Second Life is meeting people and learning new things. Somewhat to my surprise, I am part of a radio station, for which I serve as an event host and occasional music presenter. At about midnight tonight I will begin broadcasting Radio Riel: From the Library . . . Luciafest on http://music.radioriel.org. You can listen in iTunes or any other streaming audio player. The broadcast includes about nine hours of music, set on shuffle, and will conclude early tomorrow evening.
The most recent blog meme has been going through Second Life like a wildfire, and I was tagged earlier today at Tenth Life. I thought it was potentially interesting enough to cross-post here.
First, it was the Defender of Murdann; then my web-friend Marion Rickenbacker, whose photography I love; and now I’ve discovered that Lady Edwina Heron has joined the fray. (And I suppose I should also count Miss Achariya Maktoum, who tagged “all of Caledon”).
The rules of tagging are simple, and as follows.
- Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
- People who are tagged need to write a post on their own blog (about their eight things) and post these rules.
- At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
- Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog
Now, really, who’s left to tag? This thing has spread faster than any noxious blog meme I’ve ever seen, so I refuse to check to see if I’m repeating people: nox Pinion, and via Twitter, cala, Kirakitty, Lactose, rikomatic, Gloire, SinTrenton, ZoeConnolly.