Showing posts with label peacocks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peacocks. Show all posts

Monday, January 25, 2016

Peacocks are blue, dilly-dilly, peacocks are green

One green peacock may be beautiful:



But two blue peacocks are downright gorgeous:



These are Mrs. RWP's fifth and sixth creations since she began enjoying her new hobby of using artist's pencils to complete adult-difficulty coloring books. She chooses her own combinations.

Thanks to Sue in Australia who blogs as Elephant's Child, I was introduced today to an Australian poet, Dorothea Mackellar, who was born in 1885 and died in 1968. In my next post I will share with you her best-known poem, but today I want to share her poem "Colour" because it gives me, a non-artist, insight into how Mrs. RWP must experience things:

Colour

The lovely things that I have watched unthinking,
Unknowing, day by day,
That their soft dyes have steeped my soul in colour
That will not pass away -

Great saffron sunset clouds, and larkspur mountains,
And fenceless miles of plain,
And hillsides golden-green in that unearthly
Clear shining after rain;

And nights of blue and pearl, and long smooth beaches,
Yellow as sunburnt wheat,
Edged with a line of foam that creams and hisses,
Enticing weary feet.

And emeralds, and sunset-hearted opals,
And Asian marble, veined
With scarlet flame, and cool green jade, and moonstones
Misty and azure-stained;

And almond trees in bloom, and oleanders,
Or a wide purple sea,
Of plain-land gorgeous with a lovely poison,
The evil Darling pea.

If I am tired I call on these to help me
To dream -and dawn-lit skies,
Lemon and pink, or faintest, coolest lilac,
Float on my soothed eyes.

There is no night so black but you shine through it,
There is no morn so drear,
O Colour of the World, but I can find you,
Most tender, pure and clear.

Thanks be to God, Who gave this gift of colour,
Which who shall seek shall find;
Thanks be to God, Who gives me strength to hold it,
Though I were stricken blind.

--Dorothea Mackellar (1885 - 1968)

P.S. - Peacocks can also be white:


Thursday, January 21, 2016

Have you heard the one about the nine ladybugs, the peacock, and the Guernsey cow who walk into a bar?




Neither have I.

There isn't a Guernsey cow. I made up that part.

Actually, the photographs in this post are the two latest masterpieces from Mrs. RWP's new coloring book.

Survey: Which is funnier, a Guernsey cow, a St. Bernard, or a big, black tarantula? Give reasons.

This post makes absolutely no sense because the full moon once again approaches. Accordingly, I am dedicating it (the post, not the moon) to our old friend Putz (David Barlow of Tooele, Utah) who hasn't posted since January 16, 2014. His innovative spelling and indecipherable punctuation are sorely missed in this little corner of Blogland.

All in favor say "Aye"....

Monday, January 18, 2016

This, that, and the other, plus an essay by Flannery O'Connor

Today is the observance of the birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in the United States (although his actual birth date was last Friday, January 15th), tomorrow is the birthday of General Robert E. Lee, and so it goes from day to day, observance to observance, ad infinitum, ad nauseam. Before you know it, it will be National Pickle Day. It's not until November, but, hey, time flies when you're having fun.

Although the sun is shining brightly, today (Monday, January 18, 2016) is the coldest day of the 2015-2016 winter so far hereabouts. Tomorrow morning's low temperature is expected to be even colder; the weatherman is predicting 18 degrees Fahrenheit ( -7.77777778 degrees Celsius) . We've seen no snow yet this winter, but a "light dusting" of the stuff was reported yesterday in the mountains around Blairsville, near the border with North Carolina.

Mrs. RWP completed a page of ladybugs from her coloring book over the weekend and now is working on a page featuring a peacock.

Speaking of peacocks, Georgia's own Flannery O'Connor once wrote an essay many people know as "The King Of The Birds" but which was published originally in the September 1961 issue of Holiday magazine as "Living With A Peacock" -- you can read it in its entirety right here.

Or you could skip over it altogether, but I recommend that you do not.

Afterward, if you become as much of a fan of Flannery O'Connor's writings as I did, and if you are very brave, you may want to settle down for a long winter's nap with some of her short stories such as "The Enduring Chill" or "The Displaced Person" or "A Good Man Is Hard To Find" or "Good Country People" or "Everything That Rises Must Converge" or "Revelation" but you may not have pleasant dreams.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Why I am glad John Masefield wrote “Cargoes” before the New International Version of the Bible (NIV) was produced.

A few days ago I saw John Masefields’s poem “Sea Fever” on someone’s blog, and as one thing often leads to another, it made me think of “Cargoes,” another of John Masefield’s poems with which you may be familiar. Here it is:

Cargoes
by John Masefield


Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
With a cargo of diamonds,
Emeralds, amythysts,
Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.

Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
With a cargo of Tyne coal,
Road-rails, pig-lead,
Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.

[Editor’s note. From SALT-WATER POEMS AND BALLADS, edited by John Masefield, published by The Macmillan Co., New York, US, © 1944, p. 124; first published in SALT-WATER POEMS, © 1902. --RWP]

If Edward Gibbon had written that poem he might have called it “The Decline and Fall of the Shipping Industry” or “The Decline and Fall of Civilization In General” or even, in an attempt to give the final stanza’s dreariness a positive spin, “Rule, Brittania!”

“Cargoes” is lovely and conjures up all sorts of intriguing images, but I’m glad John Masefield wrote it before the New International Version of the Bible (NIV) was produced.

Here’s why:

In the King James Version (KJV) of 1611, speaking of King Solomon, I Kings 10:22 says, “For the king had at sea a navy of Tharshish with the navy of Hiram : once in three years came the navy of Tharshish, bringing gold, and silver, ivory, and apes, and peacocks.” In keeping with the tradition that the Bible says everything twice, II Chronicles 9:21 says “For the king’s ships went to Tarshish with the servants of Huram: every three years once came the ships of Tarshish bringing gold, and silver, ivory, and apes, and peacocks.”

In the Revised Standard Version (RSV) of 1952,
I Kings 10:22 says, “For the king had a fleet of ships of Tarshish at sea with the fleet of Hiram. Once every three years the fleet of ships of Tarshish used to come bringing gold, silver, ivory, apes, and peacocks.” and II Chronicles 9:21 says, “For the king’s ships went to Tarshish with the servants of Huram; once every three years the ships of Tarshish used to come bringing gold, silver, ivory, apes, and peacocks.”

Please note that after 341 years, the English is virtually unchanged. Let us pat the translators on their heads. They done good.

But in the New International Version (NIV), for which we have the last quarter of the twentieth century to thank, I Kings 10:22 and II Chronicles 9:21 say something startlingly different (I’ll show it to you just once because if you’re anything like me you’re probably getting tired of reading everything twice):
“The king had a fleet of trading ships at sea along with the ships of Hiram, and once every three years it returned, carrying gold, silver and ivory, and apes and baboons.”

Yes, you read that correctly.

Not peacocks. Baboons.

As they are wont to say in the British Isles, I’m gobsmacked.

Solly, we hardly knew ye.

John Masefield’s finger wrote, and having writ, moved on. We, however, are left behind to pick up the pieces and try to make sense of it all.

Here’s what an English clergyman named N. T. Wright has to say: “When the New International Version was published in 1980, I was one of those who hailed it with delight. I believed its own claim about itself, that it was determined to translate exactly what was there, and inject no extra paraphrasing or interpretative glosses.... Disillusionment set in over the next two years, as I lectured verse by verse through several of Paul’s letters, not least Galatians and Romans. Again and again, with the Greek text in front of me and the NIV beside it, I discovered that the translators had another principle, considerably higher than the stated one: to make sure that Paul should say what the broadly Protestant and evangelical tradition said he said....[I]f a church only, or mainly, relies on the NIV it will, quite simply, never understand what Paul was talking about.”

I don’t know about Paul’s letters, but in the case of I Kings and
II Chronicles, we started out with peacocks and ended up with baboons. Talk about disillusioned.

But wouldn’t it be a hoot if the original Hebrew really means baboons?

[Editor’s note. This just in -- the passage from I Kings chapter 10 in Hebrew (the Masoretic text) is:

כִּי אֳנִי תַרְשִׁישׁ לַמֶּלֶךְ בַּיָּם עִם אֳנִי חִירָם
אַחַת לְשָׁלֹשׁ שָׁנִים תָּבֹוא אֳנִי תַרְשִׁישׁ
נֹֽשְׂאֵת זָהָב וָכֶסֶף שֶׁנְהַבִּים וְקֹפִים וְתֻכִּיִּֽים׃

and in Greek (the Septuagint text) it is:

ὅτι ναῦς Θαρσις τῷ βασιλεῖ ἐν τῇ
θαλάσσῃ μετὰ τῶν νηῶν Χιραμ μία διὰ
τριῶν ἐτῶν ἤρχετο τῷ βασιλεῖ ναῦς ἐκ
Θαρσις χρυσίου καὶ ἀργυρίου καὶ λίθων
τορευτῶν καὶ πελεκητῶν

and even though (a) worldlingo has been heretofore my favorite online translator and (b) it purports to be able to translate from both Hebrew and Greek, the sad truth is (c) its talents do not extend to ancient Hebrew or Koine Greek. Therefore, (d) it gave me no help whatsoever in getting to the bottom of the peacock/baboon mystery. Still, I’m hoping (e) that you will be impressed no end with my researching skills.--RWP]

My research has also revealed the following:

Peacock:








Baboon:














Gibbon:

Friday, May 9, 2008

Flannery O'Connor writes of peacocks


That Flannery O'Connor was clearly interested in, preoccupied with, and loved peafowl has not escaped the literary critics. Indeed, these mysterious and magnificent creatures (the peafowl, not the critics) have become to some a metaphor for the author herself and for her work. This is seen in such titles as The Voice of the Peacock (Kathleen Feeley, 1972) and The Invisible Parade (Miles Orvell, 1973).

Here are four short excerpts from her story, The Displaced Person, that mention her favorite creatures:

The peacock stopped just behind her, his tail--glittering green-gold and blue in the sunlight--lifted just enough so that it would not touch the ground. It flowed out on either side like a floating train and his head on the long blue reed-like neck was drawn back as if his attention were fixed in the distance on something no one else could see....

"What a beauti-ful birrrrd!" the priest murmured.
"Another mouth to feed," Mrs. McIntyre said, glancing in the peafowl's direction.
"And when does he raise his splendid tail?" asked the priest.
"Just when it suits him," she said. "There used to be twenty or thirty of those things on the place but I've let them die off. I don't like to hear them scream in the middle of the night."
"So beauti-ful," the priest said. "A tail full of suns," and he crept forward on tiptoe and looked down on the bird's back where the polished gold and green design began. The peacock stood still as if he had just come down from some sun-drenched height to be a vision for them all....

“Where is that beautiful birrrrd of yours?” [the priest] asked and then said, “Arrrr, I see him?” and stood up and looked out over the lawn where the peacock and the two hens were stepping at a strained attention, their long necks ruffled, the cock's violent blue and the hens' silver-green, glinting in the late afternoon sun....

The priest let his eyes wander toward the birds. They had reached the middle of the lawn. The cock stopped suddenly and curving his neck backwards, he raised his tail and spread it with a shimmering timbrous noise. Tiers of small pregnant suns floated in a green-gold haze over his head. The priest stood transfixed, his jaw slack. Mrs. McIntyre wondered where she had ever seen such an idiotic old man. “Christ will come like that!” he said in a loud gay voice and wiped his hand over his mouth and stood there, gaping....

and here are three more from her essay, The King of the Birds:

“...seven or eight screams in succession as if this message were the one on earth which needed most urgently to be heard.”

“To the melancholy this sound is melancholy and to the hysterical it is hysterical. To me it has always sounded like a cheer for an invisible parade.”

“When the peacock has presented his back, the spectator will usually begin to walk around him to get a front view; but the peacock will continue to turn so that no front view is possible. The thing to do then is to stand still and wait until it pleases him to turn. When it suits him, the peacock will face you. Then you will see in a green-bronze arch around him a galaxy of gazing, haloed suns.”

Perhaps you will see my French blogger friend's photo in a new light:

<b> Don’t blame me, I saw it on Facebook</b>

...and I didn't laugh out loud but my eyes twinkled and I smiled for a long time; it was the sort of low-key humor ( British, humour) I...