Things are heating up at the manor for the big night.

Just in case you haven't caught the fever, here's a little teaser...

willowy songs, first installment

willow pattern, William Morris

"Willow" always leaps out and grabs me, for obvious reasons. The other night, I was surprised to hear The Duke (that's John Wayne, Lorenzo, not Duke Ellington, by the way) actually sing "Willow, Tit Willow" in The Shootist. It's amazing how many songs have been written about the magical, mystical weeping willow tree. I thought it might be kinda fun to do a series of posts on willow songs. So, without further ado...

You know I adore opera, so the series must kick off with "The Willow Song" from the opera Otello, by Rossini. It's sung by Desdemona, the night before she is murdered by her jealous husband, Otello, the Moor. Mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato sings the song in this cool monochrome video montage, made from some of her opera performances. (outclick on her name for her blogspot blog)

In the 1995 film adaptation of Shakespeare's Othello, the lovely Irene Jacob sings a completely different version of the willow song, known as "The Willow Song" or "Desdemona's Song", the earliest version being found in a lute book dated 1583.

The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree

Sing all a green willow

Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee

Sing willow, willow, willow, willow.

Sing willow, willow, willow, willow.

My garland shall be;

Sing all a green willow, willow, willow, willow

Sing all a green willow my garland shall be.

The fresh streams ran by her, and murmer'd her moans

Sing willow, willow, willow

Her salt tears fell from her and soft'ned the stones.

Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve

Sing willow, willow, willow

He was born to be fair, I to die for his love,

I call'd my love false love but what said he then?

Sing willow, willow, willow

If I court more women, you'll couch with more men.

So, there you have it, my bloggy friends....more wickedly willow songs coming up next week.

valentine

Make me a willow cabin at your gate,

And call upon my soul within the house;

Write loyal cantons of contemned love

And sing them loud even in the dead of night;

Halloo your name to the reverberate hills

And make the babbling gossip of the air

Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest

Between the elements of air and earth,

But you should pity me!
.
.
William Shakespeare

from Twelfth Night, Act I, Scene V

.

.

.

photo google images

goodbye, summer

Fisherman's Cottage, Harald Sohlberg, 1907

.

Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth,
But you should pity me!

.

.

William Shakespeare
from Twelfth Night, Act I, Scene V

a bloody piteous corse

I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,

-- God save the mark!--here on his manly breast:

A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;

Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood,

All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight.

Romeo and Juliet, Act 3, Scene 2

Bwahahaha!! Just kidding. I'm only pitting cherries for this

scrumptious plum-cherry crumble. Sometimes it's just plum crumble,

which is less messy. But if you've got fresh cherries laying around,

throw some of those luscious babies in there, too, but be sure to dig

the pits out first!

Plum-Cherry Crumble

fruit filling:

2 pounds plums, halved, pitted, each cut into 6 wedges

(2 cups pitted fresh cherries, optional)

1/2 cup sugar (you may want to increase a bit if adding cherries)

1/2 tsp cinnamon

topping:

1 cup flour

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup old fashioned oats

1 stick unsalted butter, cut into pieces

1/4 cup sliced almonds, coarsely chopped (also good with walnuts)

Toss plums, sugar and cinnamon in baking dish. Mix topping and

sprinkle over top. Bake 35 minutes at 350 or until bubbly in center

and lightly browned. Serve warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Devineness.

the best dad

Experiencing this particular dad's loving "hands on" approach
firsthand, I came to realize being a dad is much more than taking
part in bringing a child into the world and demanding their respect.
He has always, from the first diaper, been a vibrant and essential
part of our children's lives.

.

Even though we've only been empty nesters for eight months, (and

not completely, since the youngest is home for summer break) he

has bemoaned the fact that he misses the kids, nearly every single

day. He calls them, emails them, sends them silly things in the mail,

and arranges his international trips so he can stop on the way out of

the country for a visit. He gives them the biggest bear hugs, known

to mankind, every time he sees them, even when it is every day.

.

They are truly loved, and in return, he has earned their dearest love

and respect. I am proud to say the best dad in the whole world is

father to my children. And you know what? His grandchildren are

going to be the luckiest kids on earth.

It is a wise father that knows his own child.

William Shakespeare

A Dying Art?

Back in the '70s I was intrigued with graphology, the study of and analysis of handwriting, and still have several books on the subject. It is a controversial method of personality evaluation. Results of most recent surveys on the ability for graphology to assess personality and job performance have been negative. I still, however, find the uniqueness of individual handwriting fascinating. It's a very personal extension of one's self, and I think it reveals quite a lot.

Remember the old Zaner Bloser style of cursive we learned in grade school? I always earned high marks in penmanship because of my artistic ability to copy the letters. I actually would have had a great career as a forger. Have you noticed most young people today don't even use cursive writing? They print. I suppose this is because the keyboard is now used more than the old pen and paper method. Even my own handwriting is a curious mix of printing and cursive.

The romantic side of me cringes at the notion of handwriting, as we know it, becoming totally obsolete. I adore the process, as well as the personal touch, of old fashioned letter writing with ink, pen and paper. It truly is an art form, which I hope we can preserve. I am first to

admit, the internet has certainly played a part in the decline of my own hand written correspondence.

This document above is William Shakespeare's last will and testament, written in his own handwriting. It's in a cursive style called "secretary hand", which was commonly used in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It's interesting to note our handwriting today hasn't changed all that much in the last five hundred years. And I hope it continues for at least another five hundred.

top photo: quote from Janet Frame's novel, Towards Another Summer, in

my handwriting

A Pound of Flesh

WT and I were chatting the other night about a particular person

who, if given the choice, would rather have their pound of flesh than

any other type of remuneration. The Collins English Dictionary

explains the phrase "pound of flesh" as "something that is one's legal

right, but is an unreasonable demand".

A pound of flesh alludes to the scene in Shakespeare's The Merchant

of Venice, 1596, Act IV, scene i, where the Jewish moneylender,

Shylock, demands the pound of flesh promised him in payment for a

loan. Portia, disguised as a young doctor of the law, responds that he

may have it, but without an ounce of blood, since blood was not

promised. In the famous speech, Portia begs Shylock to show mercy

and take twice the money owed, but he refuses, insisting on his

pound of flesh, instead.

The Merchant of Venice is primarily a play about hatred and

revenge. It has been one of Shakespeare's most controversial plays

and analysts have long debated whether it is an anti-Semitic play or

simply a play about anti-Semitism that reflects the prevalent view of

Christian society in Elizabethan England. I, for one, consider Shylock

an ambiguous figure. There are many indications that Shakespeare

views his flaws as human failings, not specifically Jewish ones.

The theme of mercy verses revenge is still very applicable today.

Could the pain inflicted by extracting a pound of flesh ever truly be

rewarding? Aren't we far better people for embracing the giving and

receiving of mercy?

.

Al Pacino brilliantly portrays Shylock in the 2004 film version of

The Merchant of Venice, directed by Michael Radford. The video

clip below shows Lynn Collins, as Portia, delivering this famous

mercy speech.

.

.

The quality of mercy is not strained.

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven,

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed.

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

.

It is mightiest in the mighty,

It becomes the throned monarch better than his crown.

His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,

An attribute to awe and majesty.

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings.

.

But mercy is above this sceptred sway,

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,

It is an attribute to God himself.

And earthly power dost the become likest God's,

Where mercy seasons justice.

.

Therefore Jew,

Though justice be thy plea, consider this,

That in the course of justice we all must see salvation,

We all do pray for mercy

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy.

I have spoke thus much to mitigate the justice of thy plea,

Which if thou dost follow,

This strict court of Venice

Must needs give sentence against the merchant there.

A favorite vintage etching of the trial scene hangs in Willow Manor.

Happy Thanksgiving from Willow Manor

.

O Lord that lends me life,

Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness.

William Shakespeare

Make me a willow cabin...

Fisherman's Cottage, Harald Sohlberg 1907

William Shakespeare (1564-1616),

from Twelfth Night, Act I, Scene V.

Make me a willow cabin at your gate,

And call upon my soul within the house;

Write loyal cantons of contemned love

And sing them loud even in the dead of night;

Halloo your name to the reverberate hills

And make the babbling gossip of the air

Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest

Between the elements of air and earth,

But you should pity me!

Sing Willow, Willow, Willow

Speaking of willows, that is a perfect segue into Othello! I just watched Anthony Hopkins in the role in the 1981 BBC production. He was, as he always is, fabulous!! This 1981 version is extremely well done. The whole series of Shakespeare productions are available in DVD sets, grouped in Tragedy, Comedy and History. I checked out the single DVD from our library. I am partial to this Shakespeare play because my world traveler performed a condensed version in a college recital, way back in 1976! ;) The 1995 film is great, too. I love the part where Irene Jacob, who plays the part of Desdemona, sings The Willow Song. It is a very touching scene, since she is completely unaware of her impending doom. Here's the lyrics:

A poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all the green willow,
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow.

The fresh streams ran by her and murmur'd her moans,
Her salt tears ran from her and soften'd the stones,
Sing willow, willow, willow.
Sing all a green willow must be in my garland,
Sing willow, willow, willow.

The fresh streams ran by her and murmur'd her moans,
Her salt tears ran from her and soften'd the stones,
Sing willow, willow, willow.
Sing all a green willow must be in my garland,
Sing willow, willow, willow.