Word-Wednesday for December 7, 2022

And here is the Wannaskan Almanac with Word-Wednesday for December 7, 2022, the forty-ninth Wednesday of the year, the eleventh Wednesday of fall, and the 341st day of the year, with 24 days remaining.

 
Wannaska Phenology Update for December 7, 2022
Full Cold Moon aaannd Occultation of Mars Today!
Wednesday’s Full Cold Moon or TSIOTHÓHRHA — a Mohawk name that conveys the frigid conditions of this time of year, when cold weather truly begins to grip us, is also known as the:

Drift Clearing Moon manito kîsikan pîsim (Cree), 

Frost Exploding Trees Moon or pawâcakinisîsipîsim / ᐸᐚᒐᑭᓂᓰᓯᐲᓯᒼ (Cree), 

Moon of the Popping Trees Tȟahé Kapšúƞ Wí (Oglala), 

Hoar Frost Moon or THITHIKOPIWIPISIM (Cree), 

Snow Moon or vsgiyi (Haida, Cherokee), 

Winter Maker Moon or Pebonkas ala Kchikizos (Western Abenaki), 

Long Night Moon or Kwne tpoʔkut Neepãʔk (Mohican, as this full moon is often associated with the winter soltice), 

Moon When the Deer Shed Their Antlers or Tahecapsun Wi (Dakota), 

Eccentric Moon or washilatha kiishthwa (Shawnee), and 

Little Spirit Moon or Manidoo-Giizisoons (Anishninaabe).

As a special treat tonight, the full moon will occult (eclipse) the planet Mars.
occultation: /ˌä-ˌkəl-ˈtā-shən/ n., the interruption of the light from a celestial body or of the signals from a spacecraft by the intervention of a celestial body.

The International Occultation Timing Association (IOTA) has kindly prepared a table of occultation times (Universal Time, which is six hours ahead of Central Standard Time) by location, for your occult viewing pleasure. While Wannaska, Warroad, and Roseau are not listed the on the IOTA table, the table lists occult times for Grand Forks, North Dakota, Winnipeg, Canada, and Fort Riley, Kansas.

 Sorry, Boston. Maybe next time...

December 7 Fickle Pickle Wednesday Menu Special: Potato Dumpling


December 7 Nordhem Wednesday Lunch: Updated daily by 11:00am, usually.


Earth/Moon Almanac for December 7, 2022
Sunrise: 8:03am; Sunset: 4:28pm; 1 minutes, 17 seconds less daylight today
Moonrise: 3:53pm; Moonset: 7:45am, full moon, 99% illuminated.
Lunar Occultation of Mars in Wannaska: 8:59pm


Temperature Almanac for December 7, 2022
                Average            Record              Today
High             22                    46                      0
Low               5                   -34                     -5


December 7 Celebrations from National Day Calendar

• National Cotton Candy Day
• National Illinois Day
• National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day
• International Civil Aviation Day

December 7 Word Riddle

As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives,
Each wife had seven sacks,
Each sack had seven cats,
Each cat had seven kits:
Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,
How many were there going to St. Ives?*

December 7 Word Pun
Monique thought that Sven spoiled his grandson, but Sven thought most kids just smell that way.


December 7 Walking into a Bar Grammar
A typographical error walked into a bra.


December 7 Etymology Word of the Week
moon
/mo͞on/ n., the natural satellite of the earth, visible (chiefly at night) by reflected light from the sun, from "heavenly body which revolves about the earth monthly," Middle English mone, from Old English mona, from Proto-Germanic menon- (source also of Old Saxon and Old High German mano, Old Frisian mona, Old Norse mani, Danish maane, Dutch maan, German mond, Gothic mena "moon"), from Proto-Indo-European me(n)ses- "moon, month" (source also of Sanskrit masah "moon, month;" Avestan ma, Persian mah, Armenian mis "month;" Greek mene "moon," men "month;" Latin mensis "month;" Old Church Slavonic meseci, Lithuanian mėnesis "moon, month;" Old Irish mi, Welsh mis, Breton miz "month"), from root me- "to measure" in reference to the moon's phases as an ancient and universal measure of time.

A masculine noun in Old English. In Greek, Italic, Celtic, and Armenian the cognate words now mean only "month." Greek selēnē (Lesbian selanna) is from selas "light, brightness (of heavenly bodies)." Old Norse also had tungl "moon," ("replacing mani in prose"), evidently an older Germanic word for "heavenly body," cognate with Gothic tuggl, Old English tungol "heavenly body, constellation," of unknown origin or connection. Hence Old Norse tunglfylling "lunation," tunglœrr "lunatic" (adj.).

Extended 1665 to satellites of other planets. Typical of a place impossible to reach or a thing impossible to obtain, by 1590s. Meaning "a month, the period of the revolution of the moon about the earth" is from late 14th century.

To shoot the moon "leave without paying rent" is British slang from circa 1823 (see shoot); the card-playing sense perhaps was influenced by gambler's shoot the works (1922) "go for broke" in shooting dice. The moon race and the U.S. space program of the 1960s inspired a number of coinages, including, from those skeptical of the benefits to be gained, moondoggle (based on boondoggle). The man in the moon "fancied semblance of a man seen in the disk of the full moon" is mentioned since early 14th century; he carries a bundle of thorn-twigs and is accompanied by a dog. Some Japanese, however, see a rice-cake-making rabbit in the moon. The old moon in the new moon's arms (1727) is the appearance of the moon in the first quarter, in which the whole orb is faintly visible by earthshine.


December 7 Historic Events, Literary or Otherwise, from On This Day

• 1732 The Royal Opera House opens at Covent Garden, London.
• 1842 First concert of the New York Philharmonic.
• 1972 Apollo 17 launched, the final manned lunar landing mission where the crew takes the famous "blue marble" photo of the entire Earth. 

By NASA/Apollo 17 crew; taken by either Harrison Schmitt or Ron Evans

December 7 Author/Artist/Character Birthdays, from On This Day

• 521 Saint Columba, Irish Christian missionary to Scotland.
• 967 Abū-Sa'īd Abul-Khayr, Persian mystic and poet.
• 1598 Bian Lorenzo Bernini, Italian sculptor.
• 1784 Allan Cunningham, Scottish poet.
• 1863 Svetolik Ranković, Serbian writer.
• 1873 Willa Cather, American author.
• 1878 Akiko Yosano, Japanese poet.
• 1879 Rudolf Friml, Czech-American concert pianist and composer.
• 1888 Joyce Cary, Anglo-Irish writer.
• 1891 Vito Corleone, from The Godfather.
• 1904 Clarence Nash, American voice of Donald Duck.
• 1915 Leigh Brackett, American science fiction author.
• 1918 Jórunn Viðar, Icelandic pianist and composer.
• 1920 Tatamkhulu Afrika, South African poet.
• 1928 Noam Chomsky, American linguist.
• 1943 James Tate, American poet, Pulitzer Prize winner, 1992.
• 1949 Tom Waits.
• 1954 Mike Nolan, Irish singer.
• 1958 "Ravishing" Rick Rude, American professional wrestler, born in St. Peter, Minnesota.

Words-I-Looked-Up-This-Week Writer's Challenge
Make a single sentence (or poem or pram) from the following words:

• akrasia: /ə-ˈkrāZH-(ē)-ə/ n., the state of mind in which someone acts against their better judgment through weakness of will.
• bockety: /ˈbɑk-ə-ti/ adj., Irish English, of a person: unable to walk without difficulty; infirm, lame. Also of a body part: injured, impaired; that has fallen into a state of disrepair; likely to fall apart or break down; rickety, ramshackle.
• carbonado: /ˌkärb-ə-ˈnā-dō/ n., a dark opaque diamond, used in abrasives and cutting tools; a piece of meat or fish scored across and grilled over coals.
• ethology: /ē-ˈTHäl-ə-jē/ n., the science of animal behavior.
• fainéant: /ˈfā-nē-ənt/ n., an idle or ineffective person.
• holophrase: /ˈhäl-ə-ˌfrāz/ n., a single word expressing a complex of ideas, used mainly by young children when they are learning to talk.
• macaronic: /ˌmak-ə-ˈrän-ik/ adj., denoting language, especially burlesque verse, containing words or inflections from one language introduced into the context of another.
• pottage: /ˈpä-dij/ n., soup or stew.
• terrene: /tə-ˈrēn/ adj., of or like earth; earthy; occurring or inhabiting dry land; of the world, secular rather than spiritual.
• wyvern: /ˈwī-vərn/ n., a winged two-legged dragon with a barbed tail.

December 7, 2022 Word-Wednesday Feature
scribe
/skrīb/ n., a person who copies out documents, especially one employed to do this before printing was invented; v., write, from late 12th century, "professional interpreter of the Jewish Law" (late 11th century as a surname), from Church Latin scriba "teacher of Jewish law," used in Vulgate to render Greek grammateus (corresponding to Hebrew sopher "writer, scholar"). It is a special use of Latin scriba "keeper of accounts, secretary, writer," an agent noun from the past-participle stem of scribere "to write" (from Proto-Indo-European root skribh- "to cut"). Noun forms of scribe have infiltrated our language as the suffix script, and verb forms abound as follows:

• ascribe: /ə-ˈskrīb/ v., attribute something to (a cause).
• circumscribe: /ˈsər-kəm-ˌskrīb/ v., restrict (something) within limits.
• conscribe: /kən-ˈskrīb/ v., to force into military service; conscript; to restrict or limit.
• describe: /dəˈskrīb/ v., give an account in words of (someone or something), including all the relevant characteristics, qualities, or events.
• escribe: /ih-ˈskrīb/ v., to draw a circle outside of a triangle tangent to one side of the triangle and to the extensions of the other two sides.
• excribe: /ˈek-ˈskrīb/ v., to copy; to transcribe.
• indescribable: /ˌin-də-ˈskrīb-ə-b(ə)l/ adj., too unusual, extreme, or indefinite to be adequately described.
• inscribe: /in-ˈskrīb/ v., write or carve (words or symbols) on something, especially as a formal or permanent record.
• prescribe: /prə-ˈskrīb/ v., state authoritatively or as a rule that (an action or procedure) should be carried out.
• proscribe: /prō-ˈskrīb/ v., forbid, especially by law.
• rescribe: /rə-ˈskrīb/ v., to write in reply.
• scribble: /ˈskrib-əl/ v., write or draw (something) carelessly or hurriedly.
• subscribe: /səb-ˈskrīb/ v., express or feel agreement with (an idea or proposal).
• superscribe: /ˈso͞o-pər-skrīb/ v., write or print (an inscription) at the top of or on the outside of a document.
• transcribe: /tran(t)-ˈskrīb/ v., put (thoughts, speech, or data) into written or printed form; transliterate (foreign characters) or write or type out (shorthand, notes, or other abbreviated forms) into ordinary characters or full sentences; arrange (a piece of music) for a different instrument, voice, or group of these.

Closer inspection reveals interesting parallels between the word scribe and love, particularly in terms of the differences in their evolving definitions as nouns and verbs. The OED vapidly defines love as noun this way: an intense feeling of deep affection; a great interest and pleasure in something. The dictionary's definition of love as verb is perhaps even more disappointing: feel deep affection for (someone). Ambrose Bierce defines love more cogently in The Devil's Dictionary:

LOVE
-n.
A temporary insanity curable by marriage or by removal of the patient from the influences under which he incurred the disorder. This disease, like caries and many other ailments, is prevalent only among civilized races living under artificial conditions; barbarous nations breathing pure air and eating simple food enjoy immunity from its ravages. It is sometimes fatal, but more frequently to the physician than to the patient.

Fortunately, poets, other artists, and even some scientists have attempted different ways to capture the doing and feeling of love. Some of the best newer definitions we've found here at Word-Wednesday include three definitions from influential scholars where love is a verb:

Love means to commit oneself without guarantee, to give oneself completely in the hope that our love will produce love in the loved person. Love is an act of faith, and whoever is of little faith is also of little love.

Eric Fromm, The Art of Loving

I define love thus: The will to extend one's self for the purpose of nurturing one's own or another's spiritual growth.

M. Scott Peck, The Road Less Traveled

When we are loving we openly and honestly express care, affection, responsibility, respect, commitment, and trust.

bell hooks, all about love

Wannaskan Almanac scribes can hardly not write, so for us, scribe is a verb and a form of loving. So, too, it seems was writing for Henry Miller, who wrote about his experiences in The Waters Reglitterized, where he pens the following observations:

How wonderful that feeling, as happens sometimes, when coming home about midnight, the place extremely quiet, the light giving just the right glow about my work table, my senses keenly alive, yet not so sharp as to push me on to further writing, (a sort of sifting-of-the-ashes feeling, the fire warm but dying), I sit down before the little pad, determined to do just one water color in peace and harmony. To paint in this way is like communing with oneself — and with all the world too.

The greatest joy, and the greatest triumph, in art, comes at the moment when, realizing to the fullest your grip over the medium, you deliberately sacrifice it in the hope of discovering a vital hidden truth within you. It comes like a reward for patience — this freedom of mastery which is born of the hardest discipline. Then, no matter what you do or say, you are absolutely right and nobody dare criticize you. I sense this very often in looking at Picasso’s work. The great freedom and spontaneity he reveals is born, one feels, because of the impact, the pressure, the support of the whole being which, for an endless period, has been subservient to the discipline of the spirit. The most careless gesture is as right, as true, as valid, as the most carefully planned strokes. Picasso here is only demonstrating a wisdom of life which the sage practices on another, higher level.

I see that my steadfast desire was alone responsible for whatever progress or mastery I have made. The reality is always there, and it is preceded by vision. And if one keeps looking steadily the vision crystallizes into fact or deed. There is no escaping it. It doesn’t matter what route one travels — every route brings you eventually to the goal.

A scribe after our own hearts here at Wannaskan Almanac. Should you also be a fan of squibs and squibbing — another form of writing from the heart — stay tuned for an exciting announcement sometime in the coming weeks.


From A Year with Rilke, December 7 Entry
The Life Being Lived, from The Book of Hours II, 12

And yet, though we strain
against the deadening grip
of daily necessity,
I sense there is this mystery:

All life is being lived.

Who is living it, then?
Is it the things themselves,
or something waiting inside them,
like an unplayed melody in a flute?

Is it the winds blowing over the waters?
Is it the branches that signal to each other?

Is it flowers
interweaving their fragrances,
or streets, as they wind through time?

Is it animals, warmly moving,
or the birds, that suddenly rise up?

Who lives it, then? God, are you the one
who is living life?

The Dance
by  Marc Chagall

Be better than yesterday,
learn a new word today,
try to stay out of trouble - at least until tomorrow,
and write when you have the time.







*one.