Days of 47 Samba

Everybody dance now!

Preserving Summer

Sylt
Originally uploaded by Simon Gate

Many Northern European languages have compound words for strawberry jam. In Swedish (as we see in this photo from Simon Gate on flickr) it is "jordgubbssylt." The other Scandinavian languages are similar with the Norwegian "jordbærsyltem," the "refined" Danish "jordbærsyltetøj" and the decidedly Scando-archaic and non-compound Icelandic "jarðarber sultu."

Moving south, the Dutch offer us something closer to English with "aardbeienjam." The "jam" figuring prominently in that construction rather than the Scandinavian "sylt." The Germans take a decidedly European spin on Strawberry Jam by offering "Erdbeermarmelade" which, as you can see, is closely related to the Dutch in the "Erd" part, but take a decidedly Spanish spin by calling "jam" "marmelade." Many of the the southern Romance languages, you see, call any kind of jam a marmalade. Witness, Spanish: "mermelada de fresa,"

The French and the Italians are much more fancy in their naming of strawberry jam. The French say "confiture de fraises," and the Italians offer us "confettura di fragole." If you pretend you can speak either French or Italian, both of those phrases sound particularly high class and extra-sweet. Champagne comes to mind. Somehow I think the common folk of France and Italy have another word for strawberry jam that the official dictionaries compiles by snoots and even snootier snoots would have us see. You can sort of see that in the Spanish version of strawberry jam, mermelada de fresa, although it is still too uncompound. The Portuguese offer us "geléia de morango." While "morango" relates to the Basque/Finnish/Estonian Marrubizko/mansikka/maasikas, it still insists on making strawberry jam as a process, rather than a product.

Sure they all call the berry something unique, but only a few languages call the thing a compound thing "jordgubbssylt." Is one thing. "Strawberry jam" is two things.

One.

Two.

What is my point?

Look at it this way: Northern climes experience about two months of summer at best. You have just a few weeks to collect and preserve those precious summer berries like strawberries. Those fruit are rare. The come and then go as equally as fast. No forgiveness for missing them.

So what do you do as a resourceful human? You find a way of preserving them. For berries, funny enough, it means putting them in more sugar, I've heard that sugar is, despite its smashing nutritional value, a remarkable preservative and antibiotic. Like our friend salt, bacteria can't seem to do much with food items preserved in desiccated sugar.

This is why we have ham.

This is why beehives survive unmolested by bacteria.

As you can see, the English word for "jam" is much more closely related to Dutch. The Dutch, however, kept their term for strawberry jam to be one word.

Strawberry is a lovely word.

Strawberry Jam. Imagine that.

Pioneer Heritage

Pioneer Heritage
Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner

I'm ramping up to celebrate my Old West pioneer heritage this week. Here in Utah we have "Pioneer Day" on July 24, and it consequently gives us one more 3 day weekend then the rest of the country gets in the summer. This oil lamp is one of the few heirlooms that I got from my family. All I know is this one came from my Mom's family. I don't know much else about it, but I've posted a pic of the burner before. It was made by the White Flame Lamp Company in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

After processing the photo it struck me that at least I could have dusted the damn thing. My Mom would be very unhappy.

The chimney shattered awhile ago when I lit it. It wasn't the original chimney, by any means, as I remember my mom buying them all the time. I have no idea how the rest of the lamp survived all these years, given that it is glass and my brothers and I pretty much broke every piece of glass my mother ever acquired. I proudly carry on this familial tradition.

Keep an eye out for the annual re-posting of Dancing Brigham--so good it made the Cold Cold North cry!

Let it go

Let it go
Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner

I think this cactus is done for, but I still keep it around. It is such a good photography model.

Mobile Poetry #5: from Grim Fandango

Snyder Mahler offers up an unexpected spin to the mobile poetry project:  an excerpt from the LucasArts video game Grim Fandango primarily written by Tim Schafer.

Mobile Poetry #4: "Jabberwocky"

Ethan Millard gives us Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky."  Brillig!

Mobile Poetry 3: "At the Seven-Mile Ranch, Comstock, Texas"

Friend Cordelia offers Naomi Shihab Nye's "At the Seven-Mile Ranch, Comstock, Texas" for your consideration.

Mobile Poetry #2: The Vacuum

Come on people! I've done two now. Pump up the volume and add your own poem or favorite poem. Dial +18019300674. Identify the author of your poem and its title, even if it is by you. You might want to identify yourself too.

Winged Ants

Winged Ants
Originally uploaded by Clint Gardner

The life of ants was much improved when they re-discovered their wings.

Mobile Poetry #1: The Death of See

A new SigNo feature for you: mobile poetry! Join the revolution and call in the poem of your choice to 801-930-0674. It can be your own work or a favorite of yours. Be sure to identify the author (even if it is your own) and the title. I reserve the draconian right to exclude any submission I see fit. The submissions will be featured here on SigNo.

Ok, Megastore, Dr.Write, Middlebrow, Snyder Mahler, Counterintuitive, Cordelia, Kendrakoo, Antistrophe, & Sleepy E I'm calling you out in particular. Don't be some kind of poetic wimp and flake on the mobile project!

The price: oiled wildlife

The Economy is Impoving?...

The Economy is Impoving?...
Originally uploaded by catinlap

Sign of the time. (Taken by Friend Catinlap. q.v. flickr.)

In these tough economic times

I've accrued many blog side-projects over the years, most of which I've started and abandoned with little fanfare.  Because I am probably going to merge my "professional" online identity with whatever the hell everything else I do online is, I've decided to merge several of my side projects directly into signifyingnothing.com.  These projects include (right now) "The Silence Project" (that did have submissions from friend Snyder and are suitably noted), my unplugged experiment, "Signifying nothing Uplugged," and "The land of lost notes."  I am leaving "disc-a-rama" as a side-project, since I have hopes that other disc golfers may decide to join in the fun of it.  "eye or orris" will also survive as an independent blog, since it is a useful reference blog for me to find pictures I've found interesting over the years.

I haven't made a decision as to when I will leave signifyingnothing.com in the dust yet, or if I ever will.  I moved my professional site away from a server from the place I work mostly for several technical reasons, but, I will admit, there is also a need to "own" my online professional self, as opposed to it being owned by the place where I work, I suppose.  The same goes for Signifying nothing, ultimately.  I've purposefully used a pseudonym here and will continue to do so in other media simply because, in some ways, my professional online identity is not really "owned" by me.  I know we all wish to believe that we are all free to do what we wish or write what we wish, but that is clearly not the case. My professional identity is owned by various entities out there.  In any case, the whole notion from the very first post of Signifying nothing was to explore online identity.  I guess I'm at a crux right now.

Ultimately I see signifyingnothing.com as an art piece.  I've been slapping away at it for many years now.  Yes, it is mundane, at best, but what I put here is intentional.  In any case, given that I've chosen to have signifyingnothing.com as a sort of pseudonym, it does get in the way of stuff (like my photography) that I want to own with with the Clint Gardner identity.  That's why you will see that I've changed all the flickr stuff over to my real name.

Of course I realize all of this could be seen as a massive exercise in ego management, and that is somewhat why I wish to avoid the aforementioned "professional site" identification. I am very leery of anyone who has the audacity to have their name as a web site.  Perhaps that why signifyingnothign.com will survive.

I am still really fond of what Signifying nothing is supposed to do, after all.  In any case, it has even more bloggity goodness, having been merged with several side projects.

It all just boils down to a rhetorical decision.  How do I want the world to see me, and how the hell can I let what I really want to say sneak out?

There you go.

[The land of lost notes] Note 39: O ring

Found near Beacon Heights Elementary, Salt Lake City, Utah.

Ways of Seeing #3: Better living through technology!

For your consideration in celebration of the new issue of Signifying nothing:

The Limbourg Brothers.  February, from the Very Rich Book of Hours of the Duke of Berry. c. 1415.  Manuscript Illumination.  Musée Condé, Chantilly.

Items to consider:  oil spills, nuclear power resurgence, climate change, power lawn mowing equipment, class-consciousness, food-source disconnection, sustainability, and fear*.

I won't grade responses this time.

*You will note that the people in the Limbourg Brothers' illumination probably had a great deal to fear, despite the relative security of the  trio in the house.  Note the wild birds eating seed, the broken wagon, and the hole in the roof of their sheep pen.  The machinations of the heavens above them need to be taken into consideration.

Momento mori

Momento mori
Originally uploaded by Theorris

That's spray cheese. that is

nice video shame about the song

Before our late film Car Wash

Sliding past yesterday

Sliding past yesterday
Originally uploaded by Theorris

This might make it into my video essay for a workshop lead by the inestimable Hightoughmegastore (q.v.).

Walking schmalking. I'm going bus.

Gardening

Gardening
Originally uploaded by Theorris

Prelude to Summer: Our friend the dandelion

Our friend the dandelion
Originally uploaded by Theorris

Summer Prelude: Perfect Day

Perfect Day
Originally uploaded by Theorris

We're getting there, people. I suggest just enjoying the high 70 degree temperatures, and remember them fondly when we hit the low 100s in July.

Prelude to Summer 5: Baseball!

Baseball!
Originally uploaded by Theorris

Yeah--I know, another repeat, but summer is about repeats. Oh yeah.

Summer Prelude 4: How Sweet It Is

How Sweet It Is
Originally uploaded by Theorris

Look at that sky, god damn it.

What snow? aka Tom Collins

Tom Collins
Originally uploaded by Theorris

My summer prelude series is apparently going to be interrupted by snow this evening/tomorrow. Cheers!

Prelude to summer: Pineapple Cocktail

Pineapple Cocktail
Originally uploaded by Theorris

Summer Prelude: Grilled Asparagus

Grilled Asparagus
Originally uploaded by Theorris

Valediction

April Snow #1
Originally uploaded by Theorris

After a long end of the semester event-filled day at my place of employment, a colleague offered to give me a ride home--well that is stretching it a bit, given that I asked her to give me a ride home since I am "on her way."

"Sure," she said without hesitation. In retrospect, I don't think I offered enough thanks for her kind agreement, given that instead of arriving home as early as I did, I would have had to face the evening mass-transit schedule, that has been hit hard by our tough economic times, and might get me home just in time to go to bed.

As it was, I was dropped at my door step in ample time to actually get some things done.

While we were on the highway, however, I received a text from my sister: "Wow mom died 9 yrs ago today." I felt the phone in my pocket vibrating this message to me, but given that my colleague and I were involved in conversation about Michael Saffran Foer's book Eating Animals, I didn't check it.

Moments later, as I got out of my colleague's car at my house, I felt the vibration again, this time accompanied by my ring tone: an Elk Call.

The elk call on my phone never ceases to bring attention from people when my phone goes off. "Nice!" I often get, or "What the hell is that?" which gives me a chance to tell people about elk, replete with my various elk encounters--all the way from being in Rocky Mountain National Park and hearing their eery call through the darkness, while I was safe in my tent with 5 millimeters of fabric protecting me from Nature, to the sheer silent joy of watching a herd of elk at midnight in the backyard of a good friend many years ago.

My colleague didn't hear my phone, but my salutation and valediction stopped me from pulling the device out of my pocket.

And then the voice mail came as I unlocked my door and unpacked myself.

It was from my sister. "Uncle R--- just died," she began and asked me to call her. Of course you always expect calls like this, but they tend to take you aback. It took me all the way back to when my father, the brother of R--- died, since that is just about what my mother called out to my brother and I in the early morning.

"L----- you're Dad's dead."

I called her back, of course.

The next morning we had a late April storm. I tried to tell myself as I was leaving my house that it was because I was living at a higher elevation now that caused for the snow to stick. Later, I realized, that this wasn't anything typical. This was a full-on storm.

The coincidence of deaths bothers me.

My mother, some nine years ago. My uncle--my father's only surviving brother.

As I walked down the hill, wrapping myself in the void, I came upon a pair of daffodils bowed down in snow.

Later, when I was safe on the bus, I wrote the following in my notebook:

Bowing to the ground
Daffodils shed the spring snow
They rise tomorrow

Ways of Seeing #2: Ugolino & his sons

Ugolino & his sons
Originally uploaded by Theorris
Discuss...

Grades for #1:

Cordelia: A

Kendra: B

Everyone else: F