It's February and I feel the onset of winter frustration rising in me. This is always a hard month for me. My birthday is in this month, but moving my age marker another year higher isn't as exciting as it used to be. And then there's Valentine's Day, a lovely little holiday, but still not enough to offset my growing discontent. By the time February arrives, I'm tired of winter. I know it's silly. It's February. It's always cold. I should resign myself to accepting that. Despite being the shortest month, it always feels very, very long. Today is Groundhog Day, the calendrical midpoint of winter. We're only halfway? I just want to get it over with and move on to March, when I know there is a slightly better chance of seeing some sign of the earth waking from its winter sleep. I tend to get moody in February. Can you tell?
 |
| Morning on the first of February. |
With winter so thoroughly entrenched, and a foot of snow on the ground, I feel cabin fever setting in. I can't remember the last time I walked in the orchard. The snow is too deep out there for me to want to try. The flower beds are buried. The only sign of their existence are the brown and tattered stalks of last year's flowers. It seems impossible that under the snow there are crocuses and snowdrops waiting. The first thaw will start them off. If a thaw ever comes. Will a thaw ever come? I have to distract myself to keep from fretting too much.
My current literary distraction is as much about art as it is words. Miriam has become interested in medieval illuminated manuscripts, which delights me. The medieval period has always fascinated me. In our conversations, I told Miriam about the Très Riches Heures du Duc de Barry, one of the most beautiful books ever made. After describing it to her and looking at some photos online, I did some exploring and found what I thought was a paperback facsimile of it for sale and I ordered it. It cost around $10. When it came, I was surprised to find that it is a hardbound book with full color plates and explanatory text. The Très Riches Heures was created by the Limbourg brothers between 1412 and 1416. It is a book of hours, a collection of prayers to be said at the canonical hours, Matins, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, Nones, Vespers, and Compline. It also contains a calendar with depictions of each month, some of the Psalms, and other devotional texts. It was commissioned by John, Duke of Barry (1340-1416), who was the brother of King Charles V of France (1338-1380). It is a small book, only twelve by eight and a half inches. The illuminations are amazingly detailed. I've spent hours devouring it.
 |
| February from the Très Riches Heures. |
 |
| Three pages from the Très Riches Heures. |
There is an oft misquoted proverb that "music hath charms to soothe the savage beast." The real quote is "music hath charms to soothe the savage breast." It comes from a play, The Mourning Bride, by William Congreve (1670-1729). I don't know the play, just the quote. And being possessed of an increasingly savage breast as winter drags on and on, I know the power of music to soothe.
I moved through quite a few composers on my alphabetical binge last week. Tuesday was "C" day. There were three "C" composers on my favorites list, Chopin, Cantaloube, and Copland. That's an eclectic mix. Chopin is near the top of my all time favorite composers list, maybe number three after Bach and Mozart, my lineup changes from time to time. During most of my teenage years, Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849) was my composer of choice when I was "in a mood." Chopin actually ruined my chances of becoming a proficient pianist. When I was taking lessons, I wanted to play Chopin. I didn't have the patience to keep slogging through all those silly songs in the John Schaum books, so I quit out of frustration at the age of fourteen. But I still love Chopin, every single bit, the ballades, etudes, mazurkas, polonaises, waltzes, concertos, and especially the nocturnes. I listened to some of each on Tuesday morning. At noon I switched to the lovely Songs of the Auvergne by Joseph Cantaloube (1870-1957) sung by the incomparable Kiri Te Kanawa. After that I turned to Copland. I discovered Aaron Copland (1900-1990) when I was at BYU in the fall semester of 1976. I tuned in KBYU on my radio in my dorm room in time to hear a beautiful piece of music that I did not know. When it ended, the announcer said it was Appalachian Spring by Aaron Copland. I went straight to the BYU Bookstore and used my last $7.00 to buy an album that had suites from Copland's ballets Appalachian Spring, Billy the Kid, and Rodeo on it. That began my love of Copland's music. I listened to those three suites that afternoon.
 |
| Tuesday's lineup: Chopin, Cantaloube, and Copland. |
Wednesday was "V" day. Again, I only had three "V" composers on my list, Vivaldi, Verdi, and Vaughan Williams. It was a snowy morning, perfect for an escape to baroque Venice with some Vivaldi. The music of Antonio Vivaldi (1678-1741) is all brightness and romance to me. I listened to his Four Seasons and several other concertos that morning. Later in the morning I turned to Verdi. Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901) is not one of my favorite opera composers (in my opinion, no one rivals Puccini), but I do like some of his most famous arias. After an hour of Verdi, I went on to spend the rest of the day with Vaughn Williams. Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) is another composer I found later in my musical explorations. I first heard him while listening to KUSC classical music radio station in the early 1980s. My first encounter with him was his exquisite Five Variants on Dives and Lazarus. I immediately headed to the Tower Record store on Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks, California, and went on a Vaughan Williams buying spree. Exploring an unknown composer and discovering that I love the music is exciting. As I listened to recording after recording of his symphonies, fantasias, rhapsodies, and other works, I came to feel that he and I were kindred spirits. On Wednesday, I listened to a few of my favorite of his works, the Five Variants on Dives and Lazarus, Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis, An Oxford Elegy, Symphony No. 3 "Pastoral," and Symphony No. 5. The third movement of that symphony, marked "Romanza, Lento," is one of the pieces I love most by any composer.
You might think, reading this, that all I do is sit and listen to music all day. Some days you might be correct. But not really. Depending on what the music is, I do other things while listening. I do household tasks. I read. I work at family history. I tend the wood stove. I go out and do the chores. But some music demands my full attention and when that music is playing, I do just sit and listen.
Thursday I didn't have time to listen to music. I had an appointment with a new doctor in Port Allegany that morning, almost and hour away. My visit turned out to be better than I anticipated. This new doctor is very positive and I have a good feeling about the course of treatment he has prescribed for me. By the time I got home from that, it was time to eat lunch and do late chores. Then I had to pick Miriam up from school. So no music that day.
It actually warmed to above freezing on Friday. We hit 37° at noon and it rained. That made the snow on the ground more icy and treacherous, a nasty parting shot from January. To counteract the ugly weather, I looked through my list of "P" composers and selected Poulenc, Prokofiev, and Puccini. I only have one recording of the music of Francis Poulenc (1899-1963), his Concerto for Organ, Timpani, and Strings. I first encountered it while I was working for KM Records in Burbank in the early 80s. I had a great job at KM Records. I did sound checking where I sat in a room with a fabulous stereo system and listened to recordings on the metal discs used to press the vinyl. I had to make sure there were no ticks or pops before they began pressing. One of the recordings I reviewed was that concerto by Poulenc and I loved it so much, I bought a recording of it. It is exciting music. After listening to Poulenc, I went on to Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953). I chose my favorite of his works, his ballet Romeo and Juliet—but not the full performance, which is over two hours long. I chose one of the orchestral suites taken from it that's only half an hour long. It was turbulent, dark, and romantic. And then it was time for Puccini. It took me a while to appreciate Italian opera. I didn't really try to understand it until the early 1990's. When I did begin my explorations, I was lucky to find Giacomo Puccini (1858-1924) first. And even luckier to start with La bohéme. It was love at first listen. I went on from there to his other operas, Tosca, Madama Butterfly, Gianni Schicci, Manon Lescaut, Turandot, and the rest. I love them all. Friday afternoon was filled, first with La bohéme in its entirety, and then arias from the other operas. It was glorious.
 |
| Poulenc, Prokofiev, and Puccini. |
Miriam and Hannah left on Friday afternoon to go down to the Thayn's house, so Stacey and I spent a quiet weekend together. Not that Miriam and Hannah generate a lot of noise, but with just the two of us here, things seem muted. After January's last minute and feeble attempt at a thaw, the first of February, true to form, was arctic. It was 10° when I went down to the barn that morning. The snow, once slushy from the previous day's rain, was frozen hard as concrete. We'd burned all the wood from the back porch, so after the morning chores, I brought in more from the woodpile on the west side of the house. I didn't fill the porch. It was too cold to work that long outdoors. I brought in just enough to get through the weekend. It's supposed to be a little warmer tomorrow. I'll bring in more then.
 |
| Sunset on the first of February. |
Stacey and I ran errands most of the morning on Saturday. We took a delivery of ice-melt up to the chapel. We went to Runnings for sunflower seeds. I'd run out and the birdfeeders were empty. Several times last week we had crows at the birdfeeders, which is rare. They are usually too skittish to come that close to the house. I guess they were hungry enough to overcome their fear. I love crows. That afternoon we went down to Foster's house for lunch and then stayed to play a game. We got home in time for me to do the afternoon chores. Then we did some pre-Sabbath house tidying, did laundry, mopped floors, and then spent the rest of the day relaxing.
Today was Groundhog Day. The official word out of Punxsutawney is that Phil saw his shadow and so we will have six more weeks of winter. No surprise there. Here in cold Gold, it would be nice if we only had six weeks of winter left. Normally it goes on for about twelve weeks after Groundhog Day. I don't hold much with Phil's predictions anyway. He is not a normal groundhog, especially for this part of Pennsylvania. It was 8°, overcast, and frosty this morning and our groundhogs are in deep hibernation and will be until April.
We are home from church now. We had good meetings. Today is Fast Sunday so I'm really looking forward to breaking my fast soon. Stacey is cooking up some bratwurst from our own pigs. Later this evening Miriam and Hannah will be home. This week I will be here by myself from Tuesday morning until Thursday night. The rest of the family is traveling to Georgia to attend our nephew Aaron's retirement ceremony from the Army Rangers. I'm staying behind to take care of our and the Foster's animals. I don't mind. The car ride was fifteen hours one way and I don't think I'd handle that too well. I'll be okay here by myself. It's only for a few days. And I'll have the Foster's dog Maverick to keep me company. And a bunch more composers to listen to. And plenty of books. And episodes of Gardener's World. I'll be fine. Really.
