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Word-Wednesday for June 21, 2023

And here is the Wannaskan Almanac with Word-Wednesday for June 21, 2023, the twenty-fifth Wednesday of the year, the first Wednesday of summer, and the one-hundred seventy-second day of the year, with one-hundred ninety-three days remaining.

 
Wannaska Phenology Update for June 21, 2023
Vetches are Flowering
/ˈvech/ n., a widely distributed scrambling herbaceous plant of the pea family, which is cultivated as a silage or fodder crop. One of Wannaska's wild flowering plants, the Pale vetchling (Lathyrus ochroleucus), Marsh vetchling (Lathyrus palustris), Veiny pea (Lathyrus venosus), and American vetch (Vicia americana) are now coming into full, beautiful bloom.

 

Other emerging sights include mushrooms, raspberry flowers, wild plum tree fruits.


Star uplook:


Be on the lookup for aurora borealis activity in the coming nights.


June 21 Fickle Pickle Wednesday Menu Special: Potato Dumpling


June 21 Nordhem Wednesday Lunch: Updated daily by 11:00am, usually.


Earth/Moon Almanac for June 21, 2023
Sunrise: 5:19am; Sunset: 9:30pm; 1 second less daylight today
Moonrise: 8:13am; no Moonset today, waxing crescent, 7% illuminated.
Today is the summer solstice at 9:57am.

Summer Solstice
by Rose Styron

Suddenly,
there's nothing to do
and too much—
the lawn, paths, woods
were never so green
white blossoms of every
size and shape—hydrangea,
Chinese dogwood, mock orange
spill their glistening—

Inside, your photographs
and books stand guard
in orderly array. Your
half of the bed is smooth,
the pillows plump, the phone
just out of reach beyond it.

No one calls early—they
remember your late hours.
The shades are down, so
sunlight's held at bay
though not the fabulous winged
song of summer birds
waking me as ever, always in our
favorite room, our season.
Yesterday's mail on the desk
newspaper, unread. Plans for the day
hover bright out all our doors—

Don't think of evening.



Temperature Almanac for June 21, 2023
                Average            Record              Today
High             74                     91                     86
Low              53                    34                     66

Rain in the forecast for tonight.

Summer Rain
by Amy Lowell

All night our room was outer-walled with rain.
Drops fell and flattened on the tin roof,
And rang like little disks of metal.
Ping!—Ping!—and there was not a pin-point of silence between
    them.
The rain rattled and clashed,
And the slats of the shutters danced and glittered.
But to me the darkness was red-gold and crocus-colored
With your brightness,
And the words you whispered to me
Sprang up and flamed—orange torches against the rain.
Torches against the wall of cool, silver rain!



June 21 Celebrations from National Day Calendar

  • World Hydrography Day
  • National Smoothie Day
  • World Peace and Prayer Day
  • International Day of Yoga
  • World Humanist Day
  • World Giraffe Day
  • National Arizona Day
  • National Seashell Day
  • National Day of the Gong
  • Go Skateboarding Day
  • National Daylight Appreciation Day
  • Anne & Samantha Day
  • National Peaches and Cream Day
  • International Surfing Day
  • National Selfie Day


June 21 Word Riddle
Vhy does Sven’s frog have more lives than his cat?*


June 21 Word Pun

Vincent van Gogh Family Tree
  • Tang Gogh, ballroom dancing aunt
  • Gotta Gogh, brother who ate too many prunes
  • Verti Gogh, dizzy aunt
  • Stop N. Gogh, brother who owned Frances' first convenience store
  • Wells Far Gogh, nephew who owned local coach service
  • U. Gogh, grandfather from Yugoslavia
  • Where Diddy Gogh, magician uncle
  • Gring Gogh, Mexican cousin
  • A. Mee Gogh, Mexican cousin's half brother
  • Cannot Gogh, constipated uncle
  • Wayto Gogh, aunt who taught positive thinking to Ginny's ancestors
  • Poe Gogh, bouncy nephew
  • Lum Bay Gogh, brother with lower back pain
  • Winnie Bay Gogh, niece who loved to travel



June 21 The Devil’s Dictionary Word-Pram
OUT-OF-DOORS, n. That part of one’s environment upon which no government has been able to collect taxes. Chiefly useful to inspire poets.

I climbed to the top of a mountain one day
     To see the sun setting in glory,
And I thought, as I looked at his vanishing ray,
     Of a perfectly splendid story.

’Twas about an old man and the ass he bestrode
     Till the strength of the beast was o’ertested;
Then the man would carry him miles on the road
     Till Neddy was pretty well rested.

The moon rising solemnly over the crest
     Of the hills to the east of my station
Displayed her broad disk to the darkening west
     Like a visible new creation.

And I thought of a joke (and I laughed till I cried)
     Of an idle young woman who tarried
About a church-door for a look at the bride,
     Although ’twas herself that was married.

To poets all Nature is pregnant with grand
     Ideas— with thought and emotion.
I pity the dunces who don’t understand
     The speech of earth, heaven and ocean.

                                                                    Stromboli Smith


June 21 Etymology Word of the Week

privilege
/ˈpriv-lij/ n., a special right, advantage, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group, from mid-12th century "grant, commission" (recorded earlier in Old English, but as a Latin word), from Old French privilege "right, priority, privilege" (12th century) and directly from Latin privilegium "law applying to one person, bill of law in favor of or against an individual;" in the post-Augustine period "an ordinance in favor of an individual" (typically the exemption of one individual from the operation of a law), "privilege, prerogative," from privus "individual" (see private (adj.)) + lex (genitive legis) "law" (see legal (adj.)).

From circa 1200 as "power or prerogative associated with a certain social or religious position." Meaning "advantage granted, special right or favor granted to a person or group, a right, immunity, benefit, or advantage enjoyed by a person or body of persons beyond the common advantages of other individuals" is from mid-14c. in English. From late 14th century as "legal immunity or exemption."

Formerly of such things as an exemption or license granted by the Pope, or special immunity or advantage (as freedom of speech) granted to persons in authority or in office; in modern times, with general equality of all under the law, it is used of the basic rights common to all citizens (habeas corpus, voting, etc.).

Middle English also had pravilege "an evil law or privilege" (late 14c.), from Medieval Latin pravilegium, a play on privilegium by substitution of pravus "wrong, bad."


June 21 Historic Events, Literary or Otherwise, from On This Day

  • 1869 William James passes his medical examination at Harvard Medical School.
  • 1893 First Ferris wheel opens at Columbian Exposition in Chicago, Illinois.
  • 1913 Tiny Broadwick is first woman to parachute from an airplane.
  • 1933 First Great Lakes-to-Gulf of Mexico barge trip completed.
  • 2001 Mexican artist Frida Kahlo is the first Hispanic woman to be honored on a US postage stamp.
  • 2003 Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, the fifth book of the series by J. K. Rowling is published worldwide in English.



June 21 Author/Artist/Character Birthdays, from On This Day

  • 1577 Giovanni Del Turco, Italian composer.
  • 1640 Abraham Mignon, Dutch still life painter.
  • 1730 Motoori Norinaga, Japanese writer.
  • 1732 Johann Christoph Friedrich Bach, composer and fifth son of Johann Sebastian Bach.
  • 1798 Wolfgang Menzel, German writer.
  • 1832 Joseph Rainey, American politician, first African American in US House of Representatives.
  • 1839 Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis, Brazilian writer.
  • 1851 Daniel Carter Beard, American author.
  • 1859 Henry Ossawa Tanner, American artist.
  • 1863 Sarah Cecilia Harrison, Irish artist.
  • 1873 H. M. Tomlinson, British writer.
  • 1879 Umberto Brunelleschi, Italian cartoonist and illustrator.
  • 1882 Rockwell Kent, American artist, painter and illustrator.
  • 1893 Alois Hába, Czech composer.
  • 1894 Milward Kennedy, British mystery writer.
  • 1899 Pavel Haas, Czech composer.
  • 1905 Jean-Paul Sartre, French writer.
  • 1912 Mary McCarthy, American novelist.
  • 1934 Wulf Kirsten, German writer.
  • 1935 Françoise Sagan [Quoirez], French novelist.
  • 1942 Henry S. Taylor, American writer and poet.
  • 1945 Adam Zagajewski, Polish poet.
  • 1948 Andrzej Sapkowski, Polish writer.
  • 1948 Ian McEwan, English writer.
  • 1950 Anne Carson, Canadian poet.
  • 1957 Berkeley Breathed, American cartoonist.
  • 1957 Glenn Meade, Irish writer.
  • 1965 Saša Britvić, Croatian conductor.
  • 1972 Alon Hilu, Israeli writer.



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

  • agnate: /ˈag-ˌnāt/ adj., related through male descent or on the father's side; n., a relative whose kinship is traceable exclusively through males, a paternal kinsman.
  • banderole: /ˈban-də-ˌrōl/ n., a long narrow forked flag or streamer; a long scroll bearing an inscription or a device.
  • duology:/dū-ˈä-lə-jē/ n., a pair of related novels, plays, or movies.
  • ecotone: /ˈē-kə-ˌtōn/ n., a transition area between two adjacent ecological communities, such as between prairies and forests.
  • fritillary: /ˈfri-tə-ˌler-ē/ n., any of numerous nymphalid butterflies (Argynnis, Speyeria, and related genera) that usually are orange with black spots on the upper side of both wings and silver spotted on the underside of the hind wing; a Eurasian plant of the lily family, with hanging bell-like flowers.
  • inesculent: /(ɪn-ˈɛs-kjʊl-ənt/ adj., not suitable for eating; inedible.
  • janky: /ˈjaŋ-kē/ adj., of extremely poor or unreliable quality.
  • katabatic: /ˌka-tə-ˈba-tik/ adj., (of a wind) caused by local downward motion of cool air.
  • panivorous: /pa—NIV-er-uhs/ adj., subsisting on bread; bread-eating.
  • twattle: /ˈtwätᵊl/: intrans. v., to talk idly, chatter, prate, twaddle.


June 21, 2023 Word-Wednesday Feature

Organic Words
/ȯr-ˈga-nik/ adj., of, relating to, or derived from living organisms, from the 1510s, "serving as a means or instrument," from Latin organicus, from Greek organikos "of or pertaining to an organ, serving as instruments or engines," from organon "instrument" (see organ). The sense of "from or characteristic of organized living beings" (objects that have organs) is attested from 1778. The sense of "forming a whole with a systematic arrangement or coordination of parts" is by 1817. The meaning "free from pesticides and fertilizers" is attested by 1942. Organic chemistry is attested from 1831. Earlier was organical "relating to the body or its organs" (mid-15c.) and Middle English had organik, of body parts, "composed of distinct substances, possessing distinct properties" (circa 1400).

The word organic clearly applies to life, but what of so-called "dead" words that have fallen out of common usage? A home to words of all sorts — living, dead, and undead — this week Word Wednesday revives some words that are all organic in nature, but otherwise mothballed from disuse. Even formerly living forms become hosts for new life. As we transition from spring to summer, what better time to revive such colorful words about various life forms or the products thereof?

anatiferous: /ˌan-ɐ-'tɪf-ə-ɹəs/ adj., producing geese.


bulbitate: /ˈbəlb-ə-ˌtāt/ v., to defecate in one's pants.


bubulcitate: /bə-'būl-sə-ˌtāt/ v., cry like a cowboy.


caprylic: / kə-ˈpri-lik/ adj., suggestive of an animal in rank pungency.


crociate: /ˈkrō-sē-ˌāt/ v., cry like a raven.


cucubate: /kū-kū-bāt/ v., cry like an owl.


desticate: /'dəs-tə-kāt/ v., cry like a rat.


glacitate: /'gla-sə-tāt/ v., cry like a gander.


glaucitate: /glaw-sə-ta-t/ v., cry like a whelp.


hircinous: /'hər-sə-nəs/ adj., smelling like a goat.


jumentous: /jū-'mən-təs/ adj., urine, resembling that of a horse in odor.


materteral: mə-tə-'tər-nəl/ adj., suggestive or relating to an aunt.


nidorosity: /nī-də-'rä-sə-tē/ n., burp that smells like meat.


peristeronic: /pə-ˌrɪst-ə-ˈrɒ-nɪk/ adj., of or relating to pigeons.


pupillate: /ˈpju-pɪ-ˌleɪt/ v/. cry like a peacock.


Svenciate: /'svən-sē-ˌāt/ v., cry like a Norwegian.


Ulaciate: /ˈūl-yə-ˌlāt/   v., cry like an Irishman.


vulpeculated: /ˌvəl-ˈpe-kyə-lā-ted/  v., robbed by a fox.



From A Year with Rilke, June 21 Entry
Constellation, from Sonnets to Orpheus I, 11

Look at the sky. Is there no constellation called Rider?
For the image is imprinted on the mind:
this arrogance made from Earth and a second one astride,
driving him and holding him back.

Hunted, then harnessed: isn’t this
the sinewy nature of our being?
Path and turning, a touch to guide.
New distances. And the two are one.

But are they? Or is it only the going
that unites them? When they stop
they belong again to table or pasture.

The story pattern fools us, too. Still,
it pleases us for a moment
to believe in them. That is all we need.



Lovers in the Moonlight
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.



*Sven’s frog croaks every day.

Comments

  1. I'm going to write a pram, but I couldn't resist the following additions to the family:

    Gogh-Gogh - bleach blond aging boomer aunt who never took off her white boot

    Sloe Gogh - alcoholic cousin

    Dough Gogh - rich uncle who makes bread in his spare time

    Flow Gogh - space cadet sister

    No-Gogh - non-binary relative

    Full of Woe Gogh - adopted Wednesday’s child; obsessed logophile; figurative precursor to Word Wednesday

    Yo Yo Gogh - cello playing brother

    So so Gogh - least favorite relation

    ReplyDelete

  2. The ecotone is the place for me
    Between the woods and the broad prairie
    Where I grow my grain yet I'm not panivorous
    The woodland fruits keep me full omnivorous
    Some call inesculent the fritillary
    That just pure twattle, though the legs are hairy
    Some turn down crickets as being janky
    I lick the bowl, then say thankee
    My agnate line goes to Plymouth Rock
    It was tough back then, they dined on sock
    To keep my meals from getting stodgy
    Volumes 1&2 of Julia's duology
    As dinner cooks, a katabatic breeze
    Spreads my banderole: Emporium of Cheese

    Ecotone: pine to prairie
    Panivorous: subsisting on baked goods
    Fritillary: butterfly
    Inesculent: inedible
    Twattle: nonsense
    Janky: of poor quality
    Agnate: paternal line
    Duology: a pair of related books
    Katabatic: wind
    Banderole: forked flag

    ReplyDelete
  3. Just Like Home
    the banderole read.
    Every time she’d drive by
    she’d sneer at the flag that trailed
    like a forked tongue
    from the rooftop
    of that assisted living place.

    Today,
    at the urging of her otherwise distant,
    now anxious,
    guardian, agnate nephew,
    she agreed to visit.
    Just to appease.

    At the sound of the twattle
    coming from the front parlor
    her ears rankled.
    Plates of janky, inesculent food
    spurred her walk through the
    room where indolent residents dined.
    It was easy for her to turn on her heel and go.

    Later, as she leaned against her kitchen counter,
    (after she brewed her afternoon tea)
    she took panivorous pleasure at the runny, red
    syrup of jam that sweetened the dry of her toast.

    Life and death, the dire duology,
    she laughed to herself,
    and little me all alone
    caught in an ecotone between the eerie two!

    In the aftermath of that katabatic chill,
    she thought to grab her sweater
    as she took herself outside
    to bask among the fritillary and the flowers;
    all things that sustain
    in her wait for the promised garden.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. teapoetry is giving us a Gogh for our stanzas with her excellent prams

      Delete
    2. Awwww. I love you, too, JPS!

      Delete

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