Violet - the gentlest corner of the rainbow

Roses are red,
violets are blue.
That's what they say,
but it just isn't true.

Roses are red,
and apples are too.
But violets are violet,
violets aren't blue.

An Orange is an orange,
But Greenland's not green.
A pinky's not pink,
so what does it mean?

To call something blue
when it's not, we defile it.
But what the heck,
it's hard to rhyme violet.

from The Animaniacs


Orphaned at the coolest end of the rainbow, as vulnerable to frost as an April flower, distant from the passion and power of red, the colour violet remains misunderstood and fragile, suffering, through no fault of its own, for the sin of not being purple.
But it is its ineluctable confusion with purple that torments violet the most.

True violet can not be concocted by mixing red and blue.

The colour violet has long been associated with spirituality. In ancient times, when alchemists sought to change base metals into gold, violet was seen as a key to spiritual transformation.

The Count of St Germain, an 18th century courtier, adventurer and alchemist, used the violet flame for enlightenment and for achieving a state of unity with the Divine.

Leonardo da Vinci claimed his meditative powers increased tenfold when sitting under a a violet light coming through stained glass.

Richard Wagner used violet light in his surroundings when composing his operas.

Simple happiness seems to elude all who are tinted by it:

"Violet! Sweet Violet! Thine eyes are filled with tears.
Are they wet, even yet, with the thought of other years"

"A violet on the meadow grew

that no-one saw, that no-one knew..."

*********************************************

This post stolen and excerpted from AVENUE COLOURS

nationalpost.com/colours to read more of the 7 part series on the exploration of colour

sometimes

Sometimes
on a sunny, breezy day I will do an extra laundry and throw in my clean bed linen just so I can have fresh air scented sheets to lie in.

Sometimes
instead of doing laundry, I will buy new socks or underwear. I'll need to buy them eventually.

Sometimes
I will simply throw the cat food at her dish if she doesn't get out of my way. The bits on the floor are just as tasty as the ones in the bowl.

Sometimes
I will put 1/4" of Nutella on a piece of bread that also has a good portion of butter. It's even tastier than straight out of the jar.

Sometimes
though not usually in summer, I will have only candles burning for light all evening, in every room I'm using.

Sometimes
the glow from the television and computer screen is the only light I use to get around the room.

Sometimes
I need more light to see.

Sometimes
I will spend an evening watching TMZ, Entertainment Tonight and ET Canada.

Sometimes
I will spend an evening not recognizing, or knowing who those people are on TMZ, Entertainment Tonight or ET Canada.

Sometimes
I don't bother closing the balcony door, even when I'm sleeping.

Sometimes
other wildlife will wander in through the open balcony door.

A Cat's Love

Pet me, pet me.

Right here, right behind the ear. Oh that's good. Don't stop. Under the chin, oh yessss. Keep going. Keep.... okay, that's enough.

Jumps off lap, shakes herself vigorously to let loose hair fly. Rubs herself down along side of chesterfield to get rid of more hair then turns around to deal with the other side.

Nice kitty.

Jumps back up on lap.

Pet me, pet me. [Pulls hand toward forehead with paws.]

Right there, on top of my head. Oohh, that's lovely. Here, let me give you a hug and drape as much of my hot, heavy, furry body around you as possible in gratitude.

Oh dear, is that a bead of sweat I see?

Let me get that for you. And there's more. I'll just lick it all off, shall I? Move your arm a bit and let me in.

What? What did I do?

Pet me. Pet me.

Not there. Oh, nevermind. I'll just go back to bed and sleep for a bit.

Monday AMuse

Pigeon Talk

I was out wandering around a favourite Lebanese bakery/grocery store yesterday when "Frozen Egyptian Pigeons" caught my eye. Right beside the frozen quail. Intriguing, I thought. Is this a mis-translation? It was a little too expensive for my pocket to experiment and I had no idea what to do with it.

Besides, the pigeons that were making a summer camp on my balcony have returned.

In the local news there is a story about the collapse of a local pigeon breeding enterprise that has left thousands of pigeons likely to be gassed.

Brian Caldwell
RECORD STAFF
WATERLOO
Documents were seized from a Waterloo office this week as officials try to determine the scope of a collapsed pigeon-breeding operation. Darren Grandel, regional manager for the Ontario SPCA, got a court order to search Pigeon King International for information on the number and location of birds. "Our main concern is that they aren't starving to death," he said.
Company founder Arlan Galbraith has said he signed up 1,000 breeders on farms in Canada and the United States, fuelling estimates there could be 400,000 pigeons in Ontario alone. What will happen to them all has been unclear since Galbraith, 61, sent breeders a letter last week telling them the controversial business is "dead in the water."

Starting in 2001, Galbraith recruited farmers -- many of them Amish and Mennonite -- to buy pigeons and breed them under 10-year contracts. He promoted the business as a salvation for family farms, selling pairs of breeding pigeons for up to $500, but promising to buy back their offspring at lucrative prices. Once a huge breeding network was established, Galbraith said, he would set up processing plants and develop food markets for squab -- young pigeon meat -- at reasonable prices. Critics, however, alleged Pigeon King was an elaborate Ponzi, or pyramid, scheme and several U.S. states blocked Galbraith from recruiting unless he could prove it was a viable business. Breeders who invested up to $200,000 now have nowhere to sell the offspring, although one area group is exploring ways to sell the birds for food on its own.

So, I looked it up - isn't the internet a wonderful resource for a late Sunday night?
What I discovered is that this is indeed a delicacy in Egypt.

I have enclosed two recipes for your collection.
Has anyone travelled to Egypt and sampled this?
Is anyone willing to try this with a local pigeon?
Is it even legal to eat pigeon?



Hamam Meshwi
(Char-grilled Pigeon)

A traditional Egyptian dish of marinated char-grilled pigeons (though poussin works well as a substitute).

4 plump pigeons (or poussin)
2 large handful of flat-leaf parsley leaves

For the Marinade
Juice of 2 lemons
2 onions, roughly chopped
6 cloves garlic
6 tbsp olive oil
sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper to taste

Method:
First make the marinade by placing all the ingredients in a blender and purée into a liquid. Meanwhile cut the pigeons in half through the breast and snip the body at the leg and wing joints (this allows them to flatten when cooking). Place the birds in a dish and cover with the marinade. Leave them for an hour, turning occasionally to ensure they are evenly covered.

Heat the barbecue until the embers are glowing. Oil the grill and place the birds on top. Allow the birds to become brown before turning. Cook until the meat is rosy in colour but still tender. Arrange on a plate, sprinkle the chopped parsley over the top and serve.



Hamam Mahshy
(Stuffed Pigeon)

4 pigeons (1 lb each) - pigeon giblets, chopped - onion, chopped - butter - salt - pepper - cornmeal - mint - cooked rice

Preheat oven (200°C/400°F).
Heat the butter and add the onion, salt, pepper and giblets.
Then, toss the giblets in cornmeal and mint until golden brown.
Clean the pigeons and rub them inside and out with salt and pepper.
Stuff each pigeon with the giblets and the previously cooked rice.
Place the pigeons in a casserole.
Add enough hot water to cover the bottom of the casserole.
Pour the remaining butter over the pigeons.
Roast in preheated oven for 50 minutes.
Add additional water when needed.
Put some of the pigeon stock in a saucepan with the remaining cornmeal.
Cover and simmer for about 30 minutes.
Serve with the roast pigeons.

Snowflake Medal

So, I was going to be all irrelevant and just post funny comics, if I felt like posting, since most people are off on some holiday. Or enjoying the damn fine weather we're having. Or wondering about Nadal vs Federer or Williams, V vs Williams, S. to be wanting to think or read about anything serious and thought provoking as honours and abortions and knickers twisting.

And yet, the Canadian media has certainly helped whip up a frenzy this past week over the recent awarding of Dr Henry Morgentaler to the Order of Canada.

For all of you non Canadians, a primer:
Henry Morgentaler is 84 years old, born in Ludz, Poland and was a family doctor who gave up his practice in Montreal to open his first abortion clinic in defiance of the laws of 1968. He endured several trials, assassination attempts, protests, firebombing of his clinic in Toronto and eventually 10 months in jail in his unwavering "committment to increased health care options for women, his determined efforts to influence Canadian public policy and his leadership in humanist and civil liberties organizations." [from the Governor General's website on the award]

This is and always was and will continue to be a very explosive and emotional issue.
I will not wade in with my personal opinion.
The awarding of such honours are not a personal choice of individual Canadians.

Here are some samplings of opinions from people who waded in anyway:

Yay: "Mr Morgentaler ensured the rights of Canadian women to safe and legal abortions without the interference of church, state or pro forma hospital committees. For that reason alone - for the right of all women to be regarded as capable of making a decision whether to bear children - Morgentaler merits the Order of Canada." [Catherine Ford, Calgary Herald]

Nay: "It's not like he did it in a volunteer spirit. He was running for-profit clinics." [Robert Thibeault, MP]

On the fence: "I guess my preference, to be frank, would be to see the Order of Canada be something that really unifies, that brings Canadians together." [Stephen Harper, PM]

The Order of Canada is our country's highest civilian honour. It is meant to recognize a "lifetime of outstanding achievement and dedication to community". Forty-three names are included in the list of Members and 26 as Officers on July 1st. Those have all been overshadowed by this one appointment. In fact, by now, at least one person officially and a few others in letters to the editor have stated they would like to return their medal as they "do not want to be associated" with such a member. One man out of the 4,000 or so other members.

Created in 1967, the order was established to recognize the lifetime contributions made by Canadians who made a major difference to Canada. The first level, Member of the Order of Canada, is awarded for "a lifetime of distinguished service in or to a particular community, group or field of activity." One man, who asked to remain unnamed to avoid media publicity, told LifeSiteNews.com that, although he had been named as a recipient for his volunteer activities, he would ask the committee to remove his name from the list. "At first I thought it was a great honour. But right now I'm not sure I'm a proud Canadian. Honour dropped down quite a bit today," he said. [from LifeSiteNews.com website]


Now, this is just me, but I admit that out of those 70 names, I only recognised three.
So, I ask of any Canadians out there not watching Wimbledon this weekend, can you name 10 Order of Canada recipients off the top of your heads?
Without cheating?
Who are NOT former Prime Ministers?

The cynical side of me will now list these illustrious few:

1. CONRAD BLACK - crook
2. CELINE DION - diva
3. SUE JOHANSON - sex talker
4. WAYNE GRETZKY - great one
5. ELIZABETH BOWES LYON - Queen Mum
6. PIERRE TRUDEAU - loved and hated PM
7. H SANFORD RILEY - who?
8. JOE CLARK - Joe Who
9. MONTY HALL - come on down
10. JOHN A MACNAUGHTON - Canada Pension Plan Investment Board (look how well that turned out)

A Friday Funny

If you are like me, you may want to click on the comic to make BIG

bees knees

It seemed such a lovely way to spend an afternoon. Sitting by the water partaking of the Strawberry Social. My friend Jan was even willing to share most of the cream in the bowl of strawberries and cream we had together. She ate her tart on her own. Now, I know that I am allergic to strawberries, but have managed to be able to eat maybe two or three at a sitting if each bite is surrounded by cream or yoghourt or, my personal fave - custard. But not this time. This years crop is not liking me as much. I haven't felt like this since the summer of 1994, when even a hint of a strawberry, or tomato, or kiwi would set my mouth on fire with tiny pimply boil like eruptions. Most unpleasant, to put it mildly.

I am feeling better today. Less fire, but certainly a lot of tenderness. The roof of my mouth and the insides of my cheeks and my lower lip are a bit raw. I thought the yoghourt would help. It seems to have the most pleasing consistency to gently coat and cool and soothe. Then I got hungry and last night thought maybe some honey would be good. After all it is good for sore throats.

Big mistake. Having it on a slice of freshly baked, very soft bread with 1/4 inch of butter also a mistake. Sigh. I was really looking forward to that.

Honey slides down your throat much easier than off the roof of your mouth.
I tried to move it along with my tongue, which only moved the pimply skin on the roof of my mouth - agony. Next instinctual move is to SUCK it off the surface. So now I am pulling all this tender, loose, pimply skin. I held my face in one of those isometric exercises for as long as I could until the suction finally released and I fell to my knees. I found a hand mirror to check that I still had skin on the inside of my mouth. It was not a pretty sight. All white and puffy. I felt very sorry for myself.

But it made me think about honey. Anything to distract. Another blogger mentioned that her son was taking a beekeeping class. Sounds intriguing. Then I read about a truck that turned over on a highway in NB spilling its load of 12 million bees. The bees were being shared by Ontario to help pollinate their blueberries as there are not enough around. And there is the Honey Moon Suite on top of the Royal York Hotel that is now home to 3 beehives after a bit of a struggle with the city. There are various laws that govern keeping hives within certain distances of residential areas, even at 16 storeys above. You wouldn't think there'd be enough for the bees to live on, but along with the rooftop garden for them to play in, there is a buffet feast in the ravines and the islands for them to gorge on. I've learned that bees travel about in 12 km range, so whatever is grown in that specific area is found in the honey they produce. You cannot get more local than that. And I'll bet most people walking along Front, or King or Queen or coming out of Union Station aren't even aware of them.

I used to drive past an apiary almost every day when I lived farther away, and I loved to stop by their roadside stand and try out their different honeys. When I was growing up, we only had Billy Bee Honey. Usually creamed. Sometimes, if my mother felt adventurous it might be buckwheat honey. What a sheltered life we had in the 60's. The first time I ever tasted anything more decadent than Clover honey was in New Zealand - their honey rivals their ice cream and would warrant a return visit just for that if my carbon footprint wouldn't put the buying spree through the roof. Now it is possible to find honey of many hues and textures and flavours. From many different countries. Local is good. But so is honey from every part of the world. And, amazingly, honey is one product that can be made naturally in every climate. Every jar is subtly different. Every taste an experience like no other. What I have in my cupboard now is a Blueberry and a Pear Blossom. At $7.95 a jar it is not to be wasted.

Therefore, I sucked all that honey from the inside of my mouth and shed a tear.

red and white

It's that time of year again.

Plump. Fresh. Juicy. Red.

Strawberries.

The Strawberry Social.

A Canada Day Tradition.

What could be more Red and White than Strawberries and Cream.

Seems my allergy to strawbs is in full force.

Am off to get more yogourt to cool my mouth.

Happy Birthday Canada

um, are all the beer stores closed, then?