Word-Wednesday for March 12, 2025

And here is the Wannaskan Almanac with Word-Wednesday for March 12, 2025, the twenty-first Wednesday of the year, the twelfth Wednesday of winter, the second Wednesday of March, and the seventy-first day of the year, with two-hundred ninety-four days remaining. Brought to you by Bead Gypsy Studio, 101 Main Avenue North, Roseau, featuring a Mad Marchness Sale: purchase any bracelet or necklace at full price, and get a pair of earrings 50% off.

 
Wannaska Phenology Update for March 12, 2025
blood moon

/bləd mo͞on/ n., the phenomenon whereby the moon in total eclipse appears reddish in color as it is illuminated by sunlight filtered and refracted by the earth's atmosphere. Ancient civilizations (Mesopotamia, Hupa, Luiseño, Turkish) often viewed lunar eclipses as omens, with some cultures seeing the blood moon as a sign of ill fortune or even an assault on their rulers. The Babylonian holy book, Enuma Anu Enlil, (The Gods Anua and Enlil) declared that the lunar eclipse — such as we’re experiencing this weekend — portended the death of a king. The Book of Joel mentions the moon turning into blood before the "great and terrible day of the Lord". Christopher Columbus used his knowledge of a lunar eclipse to influence the Arawak people, claiming it was a sign of God's anger at their lack of provisions. We're going to see a Blood Moon this Friday morning; what could possibly go wrong?

Bracketed by penumbral (outer part of the shadow) phases starting at 10:57pm on March 13 and ending 5:00am, March 14, which bracket partial eclipse phases beginning 12:09am, March 14 and ending 3:47am, March 14, the totality (moon is in the darkest part of Earth's shadow) occurs from 1:26m to 2:31am on March 14. As it happens, Wannaska falls pretty much smack, dab in the middle of the totality field.

March 12, 2025 Hummingbird Migration Update
Back on Earth, here are the most recent sightings of Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds so far this year.

March 12 Fickle Pickle Wednesday Menu Special: Potato Dumpling


March 12 Nordhem Wednesday Lunch: Updated daily, occasionally.


Earth/Moon Almanac for March 12, 2025
Sunrise: 7:43am; Sunset: 7:24pm; 3 minutes, 36 seconds more daylight today
Moonrise: 3:53pm; Moonset: 7:21am, waxing gibbous, 96% illuminated.


Temperature Almanac for March 12, 2025
                Average            Record              Today
High             31                     50                     40
Low               8                    -18                      26

Blood And The Moon
by William Butler Yeats

I
Blessed be this place,
More blessed still this tower;
A bloody, arrogant power
Rose out of the race
Uttering, mastering it,
Rose like these walls from these
Storm-beaten cottages -
In mockery I have set
A powerful emblem up,
And sing it rhyme upon rhyme
In mockery of a time
Half dead at the top.

II
Alexandria's was a beacon tower, and Babylon's
An image of the moving heavens, a log-book of the sun's journey and the moon's;
And Shelley had his towers, thought's crowned powers he called them once.

I declare this tower is my symbol; I declare
This winding, gyring, spiring treadmill of a stair is my ancestral stair;
That Goldsmith and the Dean, Berkeley and Burke have travelled there.

Swift beating on his breast in sibylline frenzy blind
Because the heart in his blood-sodden breast had dragged him down into mankind,
Goldsmith deliberately sipping at the honey-pot of his mind,

And haughtier-headed Burke that proved the State a tree,
That this unconquerable labyrinth of the birds, century after century,
Cast but dead leaves to mathematical equality;

And God-appointed Berkeley that proved all things a dream,
That this pragmatical, preposterous pig of a world, its farrow that so solid seem,
Must vanish on the instant if the mind but change its theme;

Saeva Indignatio and the labourer's hire,
The strength that gives our blood and state magnanimity of its own desire;
Everything that is not God consumed with intellectual fire.

III
The purity of the unclouded moon
Has flung its atrowy shaft upon the floor.
Seven centuries have passed and it is pure,
The blood of innocence has left no stain.
There, on blood-saturated ground, have stood
Soldier, assassin, executioner.
Whether for daily pittance or in blind fear
Or out of abstract hatred, and shed blood,
But could not cast a single jet thereon.
Odour of blood on the ancestral stair!
And we that have shed none must gather there
And clamour in drunken frenzy for the moon.

IV
Upon the dusty, glittering windows cling,
And seem to cling upon the moonlit skies,
Tortoiseshell butterflies, peacock butterflies,
A couple of night-moths are on the wing.
Is every modern nation like the tower,
Half dead at the top? No matter what I said,
For wisdom is the property of the dead,
A something incompatible with life; and power,
Like everything that has the stain of blood,
A property of the living; but no stain
Can come upon the visage of the moon
When it has looked in glory from a cloud.

March 12 Celebrations from National Day Calendar

• National Skin Barrier Day
• National Working Moms Day
• National Registered Dietitian Nutritionist Day
• National Baked Scallops Day
• National Plant a Flower Day
• National Girl Scout Day
• National Alfred Hitchcock Day
• National Genealogy Day
• International Fanny Pack Day

March 12 Word Pun

March 12 Word Riddle
In what town does the owl know everyone’s name?*

a Chairman Joe original

March 12 The Devil’s Dictionary Word-Pram
COOKERY, n. A household art and practice of making unpalatable that which was already indigestible.

    The husband threw a hateful look—
    A kind of optic snarl and
    Growl—on wifey's cookery book,
    By Marion Harland.

    "Some of these recipes, I see,
    Begin with crosses sable;
    The meaning please explain to me
    If you are able."

    "She thus marks those that she has tried
    And finds them nicely fitted
    For dinner use," the wife replied,
    And hubby's dulness pitied.

    "I thought those crosses, now," said he,
    With brutal sneer and vicious,
    "Erected to the memory
    Of men who ate those dishes."


March 12 Etymology Word of the Week
place
/plās/ n., a particular position or point in space; a portion of space available or designated for or being used by someone, from circa 1200, "space, dimensional extent, room, area," from Old French place "place, spot" (12th century) and directly from Medieval Latin placea "place, spot," from Latin platea "courtyard, open space; broad way, avenue," from Greek plateia (hodos) "broad (way)," fem. of platys "broad," from Proto-Indo-European root plat- "to spread."

Replaced Old English stow and stede. From mid-13th century as "particular part of space, extent, definite location, spot, site;" from early 14th century as "position or place occupied by custom, etc.; precedence, priority in rank or dignity; social status, position on some social scale;" from late 14th century as "inhabited place, town, country," also "place on the surface of something, portion of something, part." Meaning "a situation, appointment, or employment" is by 1550s. Meaning "group of houses in a town" is from 1580s.

Also from the same Latin source are Italian piazza, Catalan plassa, Spanish plaza, Middle Dutch plaetse, Dutch plaats, German Platz, Danish plads, Norwegian plass. The word appears via the Bible in Old English (Old Northumbrian plaece, plaetse "an open place in a city"), but the modern word is a reborrowing.

Sense of "a mansion with its adjoining grounds" is from mid-14th century.; that of "building or part of a building set apart for some purpose is by late 15th century (in place of worship). Meaning "a broad way, square, or open space in a city or town," often having some particular use or character (Park Place, Waverly Place, Rillington Place) is by 1690s, from a sense in French. Its wide application in English covers meanings that in French require three words: place, lieu, and endroit. Cognate Italian piazza and Spanish plaza retain more of the etymological sense.

To take place "happen, come to pass, be accomplished" (mid-15th century, earlier have place, late 14th century), translates French avoir lieu. To know (one's) place "know how to behave in a manner befitting one's rank, situation, etc." is from circa 1600, from the "social status" sense; hence the figurative expression put (someone) in his or her place (1855). In in the first place, etc., it has the sense of "point or degree in order of proceeding" (1630s). Out of place "not properly adjusted or placed in relation to other things" is by 1520s. All over the place "in disorder" is attested from 1923.


March 12 Historic Events, Literary or Otherwise, from On This Day

• 1365 University of Vienna founded.
• 1455 First record of Johannes Gutenberg's Bible, letter dated this day by Enea Silvio Piccolomini refers to the bible printed a year before.
• 1572 Poet Luís Vaz de Camões publishes the epic poem Os Lusíadas.
• 1794 Theatre Royal in London's Dury Lane opens after being rebuilt.
• 1832 The ballet La Sylphide first premieres at the Opéra de Paris.
• 1837 British poet laureate Robert Southey writes in reply to 20 year-old Charlotte Brontë: "Literature cannot be the business of a woman's life, and it ought not to be."
• 1857 Giuseppe Verdi's opera Simon Boccanegra premieres.
• 1891 Clara Schumann plays Johannes Brahms's Variations on a Theme by Haydn for two pianos, with James Kwast in her last public concert.
• 1919 George Bernard Shaw's comedy play Augustus Does His Bit premieres.
• 1934 Paul Hindemith's symphony Mathis der Maler premieres.
• 1951 Comic strip Dennis the Menace first appears.
• 1957 Random House and Houghton-Mifflin co-publish The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss.

March 12 Author/Artist/Character Birthdays, from On This Day

• 1515 Caspar Othmayr, German composer.
• 1613 André Le Nôtre, French landscape architect.
• 1626 John Aubrey, English antiquary and writer.
• 1672 Richard Steel, Irish writer and playwright.
• 1685 George Berkeley, Irish philosopher.
• 1710 Thomas Arne, British composer.
• 1768 Carolus Antonius Fodor [Carel Anton Fodor], Dutch pianist, conductor, and composer.
• 1788 Pierre-Jean David d'Angers, French sculptor.
• 1808 Gerrit van der Linde, "The Schoolmaster", Dutch poet.
• 1832 Charles Boycott, Irish estate manager (whose workers refused to work for him amid Irish rent and land issues, origin of the term "boycott").
• 1837 Alexandre Guilmant, French organist, composer.
• 1855 John White, American organist and composer.
• 1859 Josef Cyril Sychra, Czech composer.
• 1860 Salvatore Di Giacomo, Italian poet.
• 1863 Gabriele D'Annunzio, Italian poet, writer.
• 1874 Edmund Eysler, Austrian composer.
• 1875 Juli Garreta, Spanish-Catalan composer.
• 1878 Joseph Gustav Mraczek, German violinist, conductor, composer.
• 1883 Judge Jackson, American sacred harp composer.
• 1888 Hall Johnson, American composer.
• 1889 Þórbergur Þórðarson, Icelandic author.
• 1890 Evert Axel Taube, Swedish ballad singer and composer.
• 1890 Vaslav Nijinsky, Ukrainian ballet dancer.
• 1896 Jesse Fuller, American one-man blues band.
• 1900 Zoltán Vásárhelyi, Hungarian violinist.
• 1908 Rita Angus, New Zealand painter.
• 1912 Irving Layton, Romanian-Canadian poet.
• 1912 Kylie Tennant, Australian novelist.
• 1913 Agathe von Trapp, Austrian-born American singer (oldest von Trapp child).
• 1914 Jan Kapr, Czech composer.
• 1915 Alberto Burri, Italian abstract painter.
• 1917 Googie Withers, English dancer.
• 1918 Elaine de Kooning, American artist.
• 1921 Ralph Shapey, American composer.
• 1922 Jack Kerouac, American poet and writer.
• 1922 Thomas Hugh Eastwood, British composer.
• 1925 Harry [Maxwell] Harrison, UK, science fiction author.
• 1926 John Clellon Holmes, American beat poet and writer.
• 1926 Rolv Berger Yttrehus, Minnesota classical music composer.
• 1928 Aldemaro Romero, Venezuelan pianist, composer.
• 1928 Edward Albee, American playwright.
• 1929 Francisco Pulgar Vidal, Peruvian musicologist and composer.
• 1930 Stanko Horvat, Croatian composer.
• 1930 Wardell Quezergue, American jazz, blues, and funk composer.
• 1935 Helga Pilarczyk, German soprano.
• 1937 Elizabeth Vaughan, Welsh opera soprano.
• 1938 Dimitri Terzakis, Greek composer.
• 1940 M.A. Numminen, Finnish avant-garde singer-songwriter and author.
• 1947 Kalervo Palsa, Finnish artist.
• 1948 James Taylor, American singer-songwriter.
• 1951, Homer Simpson, American icon.
• 1952 Naomi Shihab Nye, Arab-American poet.
• 1954 Anish Kapoor, Indian born British sculptor.
• 1967 Jenny Erpenbeck, German writer.
• 1970 Dave Eggers, American writer.

Words-I-Looked-Up-This-Week Writer's Challenge
Write a story or pram from the following words:

• boop: /bo͞op/ n., a gentle or playful tap or strike, especially on the nose.
• collogue: /ke-LOUG/ verb. talk confidentially or conspiratorially.
• concessation: /kahn-seh-SAY-shun/ n., the act or practice of loitering; v., to remain in an area when you do not have a particular reason to be there; yo linger or hang around in a public place or business where one has no particular or legal purpose; to loiter.
• grama: /GRA-mə/ n., any of several pasture grasses (genus Bouteloua) of the western U.S.
• hanafuda: // 花札, JAPANESE, literally, "flower cards", karuta (playing cards) used to play a wide variety of games, similarly to the standard Western playing card. Unlike Western playing cards, which consist of 4 suits of 13 cards each, the standard hanafuda deck consists of 12 suits of 4 cards each.
• isolophilia: /Eye-suh-loh-FIL-ee-uh/ n., a strong preference for solitude or being alone; a deep appreciation for isolation, often associated with individuals who find comfort, peace, or fulfillment in solitude rather than social interaction.
• mimbo: /MIM-bō/ n., a very good looking male who either is or acts like he is extremely stupid.
• mot: /mät/ n., IRISH, the girl or woman with whom one is relationship.
• pilcrow: / PIL-kroh/ n., a symbol marking the start of a paragraph; ¶.
• travois: /trə-VOI/ n., a type of sledge formerly used by North American Indians (especially of the Great Plains) to carry goods, consisting of two joined poles pulled by a horse or dog.

March 12, 2025 Word-Wednesday Feature
Grammar of Animacy
We here at Word-Wednesday headquarters have been reading Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants, by Robin Wall Kimmerer, an author, director of the Center for Native Peoples and the Environment at the State University of New York College of Environmental Science and Forestry, botanist, and member of the Potawatomi people. As a scientist and a Native American, Kimmerer is informed in her work by both Western science and Indigenous environmental knowledge.

One of the most intriguing portions of this book for word-fans — the sixth chapter, "Learning the Grammar of Animacy" — discusses the Potawatomi language in terms of how this language reflects the elements of place in which those speaker-inhabitants live: "To be native to a place we must learn to speak its language." The Potawatomi speak Bodewadmimwin (otherwise known as Potawatomi), an Anishinaabe language. A few years prior to writing her book, published in 2013, Kimmerer by chance slipped into a tent at a yearly tribal gathering in which a language class was being offered by all nine of the remaining fluent speakers in the tribe. “The language is the heart of our culture; it holds our thoughts, our way of seeing the world. It’s too beautiful for English to explain,” said one of the teachers. For example, there's Puhpowee: /puh-POH-wee/ n., the force which causes mushrooms to push up from the earth overnight. While dwelling on keeping her native language alive, she marvels at the ways her "new" language differently reflects the plant-life she has studied for years:

Listening in wild places, we are audience to conversations in a language not our own. I think now that it was a longing to comprehend this language I hear in the woods that led me to science, to learn over the years to speak fluent botany. A tongue that should not, by the way, be mistaken for the language of plants. I did learn another language in science, though, one of careful observation, an intimate vocabulary that names each little part. To name and describe you must first see, and science polishes the gift of seeing. I honor the strength of the language that has become a second tongue to me. But beneath the richness of its vocabulary and its descriptive power, something is missing, the same something that swells around you and in you when you listen to the world. Science can be a language of distance which reduces a being to its working parts; it is a language of objects. The language scientists speak, however precise, is based on a profound error in grammar, an omission, a grave loss in translation from the native languages of these shores.

Only thirty per cent of English words are verbs, but verbs make up seventy per cent of words in Potawatomi. Verbs must often be learned in the context of speech with another person, as they are conjugated - voice, mood, tense, number, and person. Potawatomi references objects as either animate or inanimate. "Pronouns, articles, plurals, demonstratives, verbs—all those syntactical bits I never could keep straight in high school English are all aligned in Potawatomi to provide different ways to speak of the living world and the lifeless one. Different verb forms, different plurals, different everything apply depending on whether what you are speaking of is alive." Saturday, hill, red, and sandy stretch of beach are all verbs in Potawatomi, where the definitions each begin with the words, "to be". At first, her English-based, botanist-trained mind rebelled in frustration. Then...

I swear I heard the zap of synapses firing. An electric current sizzled down my arm and through my finger, and practically scorched the page where that one word lay. In that moment I could smell the water of the bay, watch it rock against the shore and hear it sift onto the sand. A bay is a noun only if water is dead. When bay is a noun, it is defined by humans, trapped between its shores and contained by the word. But the verb wiikwegamaa—to be a bay —releases the water from bondage and lets it live. “To be a bay” holds the wonder that, for this moment, the living water has decided to shelter itself between these shores, conversing with cedar roots and a flock of baby mergansers. Because it could do otherwise—become a stream or an ocean or a waterfall, and there are verbs for that, too... Water, land, and even a day, the language a mirror for seeing the animacy of the world, the life that pulses through all things, through pines and nuthatches and mushrooms. This is the language I hear in the woods; this is the language that lets us speak of what wells up all around us. Of an inanimate being, like a table, we say, “What is it?” And we answer Dopwen yewe. Table it is. But of apple, we must say, “Who is that being?” And reply Mshimin yawe. Apple that being is.

So, the Potawatomi people conjugate verbs differently if the entity is animate or non-animate. The Potawatomi animate verb for to be is yawe, /YAH-way/ — an interesting linguistic confluence of reverence with the Old Testament Yahweh. Is English capable of reflecting an animate being should the speaker wish to do so? Probably not by verb conjugation, but English speakers are already in the process of expanding the utility of pronouns. Perhaps, when on a spruce walk and noticing tracks in the ground, rather than saying, "Something's already been here this morning", Sven might say, "Someone's already been here this morning". Try expanding your mind and your world by conjugating your self in the first-person plural with each of the animate beings you encounter today. In the spirit of verbing, if you find your self at a loss for words, simply bow.

From A Year with Rilke, March 12 Entry
The Loner, from Book of Images

Like one who has traveled distant oceans
am I among those who are forever at home.
The crowded days are spread across their tables,
but to me the far-off holds more life.

Behind my face stretches a world
no more lived in, perhaps, than the moon.
But the others leave no feeling alone
and all their words are inhabited.

The things I brought back with me
seem strange here and out of place.
In their own land they moved like animals,
but here they hold their breath in shame.

Plaster Sculpture of Balzac
by Rodin
photographed in moonlight
by Edward Steichen

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







*Whoville.