YHN has been finding great joy in the snow that presently covers so much of Caledon & Winterfell, as it does the reaches of That Other Place where he currently keeps his erstwhile Terpsichorean Amanuensis, Boswell. The gentle sculpting of the landscape, the exquisite highlighting of every branch and twig when a fresh fall has bedecked the barren trees, the "sweep of easy wind and downy flake" and all the other appurtenances appertaining thereto are a distinct pleasure.
It is particularly during a stroll...or a hike.... through a snow frosted terrain, the ground alternately crunching and ringing under his boots, that he is invariable reminded of Miss Rossetti's fine verse, the which he here presents for the pleasure of his readers, if any.
In the bleak midwinter
In the bleak midwinter,
frosty wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron,
water like a stone;
snow had fallen, snow on snow,
snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter,
long ago.
In the bleak midwinter,
frosty wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron,
water like a stone;
snow had fallen, snow on snow,
snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter,
long ago.
YHN invariably hears this, upon his interior gramophone, in the setting by Holst, the which may be heard in the Aether, Here: http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/i/n/intbleak.htm (warning: Aethericly gluey locale)
He is, in particular, extraordinarily fond of the interpretation performed by those musickers of note, Bare Necessities, on their cylinder entitled Modern Treasures.
As YHN is currently disposed to think much of music and dance, he is apt to commence, when he hears this tune, to rehearse, in that private ballroom, the which is located somewhere in the unquiet confines of his skull, the evolutions of a dance, of the same name, set to this same tune. A perfectly delightful dance, it is, the notes for which may be seen here: In The Bleak Midwinter
And, in this, he is put in mind of one of the most beautiful dancers Boswell has the privilege to know, who has given the world the abovenamed dance.-- the Caller and Choreographer, Robin Hayden.
In her dancing, in the light elegance of her stance and the graceful and unhurried vigor of her motions, the music is interpreted to the eye, which it then delights quite as much as it already has the ear. That all this is accompanied by an expression of unfeigned delight, the which is crowned by a smile wherein merriment contends with gentle triumph, is an inducement not only to dance, but to dance well...for it shows us what is possible, when we dance.
Such a dancer, were she to find herself in Caledon, would surely be joining us at (ahem) The Snowflake Ball, that Loch Avie will give us, this very weekend, and where YHN will hope to have the pleasure of greeting his readers (if any.)
Gentlebeings, your servant
JJD
He is, in particular, extraordinarily fond of the interpretation performed by those musickers of note, Bare Necessities, on their cylinder entitled Modern Treasures.
As YHN is currently disposed to think much of music and dance, he is apt to commence, when he hears this tune, to rehearse, in that private ballroom, the which is located somewhere in the unquiet confines of his skull, the evolutions of a dance, of the same name, set to this same tune. A perfectly delightful dance, it is, the notes for which may be seen here: In The Bleak Midwinter
And, in this, he is put in mind of one of the most beautiful dancers Boswell has the privilege to know, who has given the world the abovenamed dance.-- the Caller and Choreographer, Robin Hayden.
In her dancing, in the light elegance of her stance and the graceful and unhurried vigor of her motions, the music is interpreted to the eye, which it then delights quite as much as it already has the ear. That all this is accompanied by an expression of unfeigned delight, the which is crowned by a smile wherein merriment contends with gentle triumph, is an inducement not only to dance, but to dance well...for it shows us what is possible, when we dance.
Such a dancer, were she to find herself in Caledon, would surely be joining us at (ahem) The Snowflake Ball, that Loch Avie will give us, this very weekend, and where YHN will hope to have the pleasure of greeting his readers (if any.)
Gentlebeings, your servant
JJD