Monthly Archives: May 2018

May 13 2018
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Mother's Day

Our Mothers

It was Pizza Night on Saturday––homemade pizza that my mom and sister made from scratch. My grandma used to do this when I was a boy and it was a very big production back then: I would watch as Grandma measured the flour and salt out onto the wooden board and form it into a well; the yeast, proofed in warm water, would go into the well, and then Grandpa would hold the board steady while Grandma mixed and kneaded the dough, by hand. It took muscle and strength. It seemed every baking project began this way, whether it was pizza or taralli or macaroni or the crustilli at Christmas.

Nowadays the dough-making is easier––my mom and sister use the big stand mixer on the kitchen counter. One result, maybe, is we have these things more often. But still it’s special anytime there is homemade pizza or homemade anything. My family truly uses food as an expression of love. Sitting down for a meal––especially a Sunday dinner, as we will today, for Mother’s Day––comes with an understanding that it is an event that will last for hours. There is always abundance and we are always well fed and fully loved. I’m sure there are psychologists who will find this unhealthy, but this is the way of my family. And when you get right down to it, it is the core of the Convivio way of doing things. Mangia is our mantra.

Mother’s Day here will revolve around the table, which is no surprise. We will gather and we will celebrate all of the mothers in our lives, being thankful for each of them, whether they are with us now or not, and whether they are mothers we were given or mothers that we chose. The definition can be very open. Certainly all of the women who took part in raising me––mother, grandmothers, sister, aunts, and more––all have played their part. How wonderful to be part of that community.

Image: India, Luisa, Marietta, Carmela––mothers and daughters––at Saturday night’s pizza party.

 

May 10 2018
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Ascension Day

Tissington’s Well Dressing

Today is the moveable feast of the Ascension of the Lord, which is of Book of Days interest mainly for a quirky tradition in one part of the world: The dressing of water wells in England, particularly at Tissington. And by dressing we mean fancy dressing, dressing to the nines, as they say. At various times over the course of the summer, wells throughout England are decked out in flowers, moss, and other plant life in beautiful scenes… but at Tissington, it is always at Ascension Day. Clay is used to set flower petals and other items from nature into beautiful scenes. Traditionally they were biblical scenes, but nowadays the wells are decked out in all manner of interesting imagery.

The Feast of the Ascension is traditionally celebrated on the 40th day of Easter, and so it is always on a Thursday. It marks the day of the bodily ascension of the risen Christ into heaven. No particular connection to that event seems to connect to the Tissington well dressings, which some say go back to a 17th century drought in England, for throughout the fearful drought of 1615, the wells of Tissington flowed, and it is thought that the custom of Ascension Day well-dressing began then in thanksgiving for clean water. Others suggest the practice goes back much further, back to the days of Roman rule in England, suggesting more Pagan origins to the custom. As with most customs that go back a long, long ways, no one really knows how the custom began. Its origins are a watery mystery.

“In consequence of this questionable origin, whether Pagan or Popish,” wrote the Chambers Brothers in their 19th century Book of Days, “we have heard some good but straightlaced people in Derbyshire condemn the well-dressing greatly, and express their astonishment that so many should give it their countenance, by assembling at Tissington.” Straightlaced people, however, are rarely very interesting. Luckily, the dressing of wells at Tissington is, to this day, a spectacular local event that begins on the eve of Ascension Day, lasting for but a week or so. Like so many good lessons, it is a celebration of nature and the ephemeral.

Image: One of the water wells at Tissington dressed for Ascension Day last year.

 

May 01 2018
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Beltane, Book of Days Calendar, May Day

Robert Herrick, and Your May Book of Days

Welcome May! Here’s your Convivio Book of Days Calendar for the month. It looks a bit different than usual, but it still prints on standard US Letter size paper. I was in an analog mood when I designed this month’s calendar: I wrote it out with pen and ink. You get my less-than-stellar handwriting and you get a misspelling or two to boot.

And since it is May Day, Margaret next door asked me to share this with you. She says you should read it aloud.

Corinna’s Going a-Maying
by Robert Herrick

Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morn
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.
See how Aurora throws her fair
Fresh-quilted colours through the air :
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
The dew bespangling herb and tree.
Each flower has wept and bow’d toward the east
Above an hour since : yet you not dress’d ;
Nay ! not so much as out of bed?
When all the birds have matins said
And sung their thankful hymns, ’tis sin,
Nay, profanation to keep in,
Whereas a thousand virgins on this day
Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch in May.

Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen
To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green,
And sweet as Flora. Take no care
For jewels for your gown or hair :
Fear not ; the leaves will strew
Gems in abundance upon you :
Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,
Against you come, some orient pearls unwept ;
Come and receive them while the light
Hangs on the dew-locks of the night :
And Titan on the eastern hill
Retires himself, or else stands still
Till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying :
Few beads are best when once we go a-Maying.

Come, my Corinna, come ; and, coming, mark
How each field turns a street, each street a park
Made green and trimm’d with trees : see how
Devotion gives each house a bough
Or branch : each porch, each door ere this
An ark, a tabernacle is,
Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove ;
As if here were those cooler shades of love.
Can such delights be in the street
And open fields and we not see’t ?
Come, we’ll abroad ; and let’s obey
The proclamation made for May :
And sin no more, as we have done, by staying ;
But, my Corinna, come, let’s go a-Maying.

There’s not a budding boy or girl this day
But is got up, and gone to bring in May.
A deal of youth, ere this, is come
Back, and with white-thorn laden home.
Some have despatch’d their cakes and cream
Before that we have left to dream :
And some have wept, and woo’d, and plighted troth,
And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth :
Many a green-gown has been given ;
Many a kiss, both odd and even :
Many a glance too has been sent
From out the eye, love’s firmament ;
Many a jest told of the keys betraying
This night, and locks pick’d, yet we’re not a-Maying.

Come, let us go while we are in our prime ;
And take the harmless folly of the time.
We shall grow old apace, and die
Before we know our liberty.
Our life is short, and our days run
As fast away as does the sun ;
And, as a vapour or a drop of rain
Once lost, can ne’er be found again,
So when or you or I are made
A fable, song, or fleeting shade,
All love, all liking, all delight
Lies drowned with us in endless night.
Then while time serves, and we are but decaying,
Come, my Corinna, come, let’s go a-Maying.

 

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