I think I will
declare a month of holidays, of holy days. May Day, Cinco de Mayo—already in place. But today I’m celebrating the Second of
May, a little-observed day of meditation and feasting. (I’ll feast on barbequed shrimp salad;
pork loin roasted with garlic and bay leaves and shallot—like the Lady of
Shallot.) I celebrate the ascension
of the flowers, the blessing of the wrens, the 122nd day of the
Gregorian Calendar.
I’ll light some
candles on this birthday of Italian architects and Dutch economists, of
diplomats and water polo players, Empresses and Earls, the odd English
historian and the inventor of the magic lantern.
I’ll mark with a
moment of silence Anne Boleyn’s imprisonment, and the escape (not to last long)
of Mary, Queen of Scots. The dear
departed King James Bible,
published today, the Second Day of May.
The first ascent of Shishapangma, the fourteenth highest mountain in the
world. The death of Leonardo da
Vinci, he who painted those glorious angels with their wings aerodynamically
correct.
Appropriate that
today is the feast day of St. Athanasius of Alexandra, student of the Classics
and perhaps the patron saint of those waiting for letters, who said (as I just did!) “Brethren,
how fine a thing it is to move from festival to festival, from prayer to
prayer, from holy day to holy day.”
images: flowers, The Beauty of Arts
Leonardo da Vinci, Angel
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment