Join Alexis and Kit, lifelong friends who now live on opposite coasts, as they explore poetry, music, and sound on a journey through the rhythm of nature expressed by the seasons.
Spring Equinox Rediscovered
Mar 22, 2024
Show notes
March 20 - April 4In this reflective episode, Alexis and Kit joyfully welcome brighter days, remember springs past amid wildflower meadows and cherry blossoms, and look forward to the shining future. Hiroaki Sato leaves “Hiro’s Corner” to join our co-hosts for an interview about haiku. Spring Equinox Rediscovered Alexis & Kit Listen and subscribe on Apple and Spotify. Spring Equinox Companion Playlist Poems Featured in this Podcast“One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one's head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one's heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun--which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so. And one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in some one's eyes.“And it was like that with Colin when he first saw and heard and felt the Springtime inside the four high walls of a hidden garden. That afternoon the whole world seemed to devote itself to being perfect and radiantly beautiful and kind to one boy. Perhaps out of pure heavenly goodness the spring came and crowned everything it possibly could into that one place.”– Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden***"March bustles in on windy feetAnd sweeps my doorstep and my street.She washes and cleans with pounding rains,Scrubbing the earth of winter stains.She shakes the grime from carpet greenTill naught but fresh new blades are seen.Then, house in order, all neat as a pin,She ushers gentle springtime in."— Susan Reiner, Spring Cleaning***From a court ladyI get some Botamochi -spring equinox – Buson***Rice cake with bean pastefor the crossroads Buddha...spring breeze– Issa***Sparkling, the blue boat in the shining wind– Junko Tamaki***In the shining wind, white flowers bloom in the handkerchief– Sachiko Hagiya***Lively talking About local lore and legendShining wind– Atsuko Oyanagi***Do I hear the sound of spring dawn rain? – Kazuhiko Endo***Pulled From my dream, the spring dawn. – Kazuo Hosoka***The thrush singsIn spring dawnA star remains– Akio Nagata***Spring peace--a mountain monk peeksthrough the hedge– Kobayashi Issa***Spring peace– After rain, a gang warGarden sparrows.– Kobayashi Issa***I do not grieve that the willow catkins have flown awayBut that, in the Western Garden,The fallen red cannot be gathered.When dawn comes and the rain is over,Where are the traces they have left?A pond full of brock duckweeds!Of all the clors of springtime,Two thirds have gone with the fustAnd one-third with the flowing water!When you look closely,These are not willow catkins,But, drop after drop, parted lovers’ tears!— Su Shih***Up to your crown, O willow, dressed in the green of jades,Myriads of twigs so verdant, droop like your silken braids.Who knows who the tailor is, who’s cut your leaves so fine? It’sThe vernal winds past February, sharp as the scissors’ blades.— He Zhizhang***“No, you don't understand, naturally' said the second swallow. 'First, we feel it stirring within us, a sweet unrest; then back come the recollections one by one, like homing pigeons. They flutter through our dreams at night, they fly with us in our wheelings and circlings by day. We hunger to inquire of each other, to compare notes and assure ourselves that it was all really true, as one by one the scents and sounds and names of long-forgotten places come gradually back and beckon to us...'I tried stopping on one year,' said the third swallow. 'I had grown so fond of the place that when the time came I hung back and let the others go on without me. For a few weeks it was all well enough, but afterwards, O the weary length of the nights! The shivering, sunless days! The air so clammy and chill, and not an insect in an acre of it! No, it was no good; my courage broke down, and one cold, stormy night I took wing, flying well inland on account of the strong easterly gales. It was snowing hard as I beat through the passes of the great mountains, and I had a stiff fight to win through; but never shall I forget the blissful feeling of the hot sun again on my back as I sped down to the lakes that lay so blue and placid below me, and the taste of my first fat insect. The past was like a bad dream; the future was all happy holiday.”― Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows***The first sparrow of spring!The year beginning with younger hope than ever!The faint silvery warblingsheard over the partially bare and moist fields fromthe bluebird, the song sparrow, and the red-wing,as if the last flakes of winter tinkled as they fell!***“Just listen to them birds – th’ world seems full of ‘em – all whistlin’ an’ pipin’,” he said. “Look at ‘em dartin’ about, an’ hearken at ‘em callin’ to each other. Come springtime seems like as if all th’ world’s callin’. The leaves is uncurlin’ so you can see ‘em – an’, my word, th’ nice smells there is about!”***Like warbling pure haikumountaincuckoo— Issa***"When April scatters charms of primrose goldAmong the copper leaves in thickets old,And singing skylarks from the meadows rise,To twinkle like black stars in sunny skies;When I can hear the small woodpecker ringTime on a tree for all the birds that sing;And hear the pleasant cuckoo, loud and long --The simple bird that thinks two notes a song."— William Henry Davies, April's Charms***The canola flowers,And the tide goes backThe small stream.– Kawahigashi Hekigoto***The impact of canola flowerseverywhere obscures the Rivers of Yodo and Katsura— Gonsui*** Bitter green, sweet goldWith this sip, I rememberRiverside flowers– Alexis***This tidy tea roomBrightened by these golden buds -the warm light of spring— Kit***It's better to be a buttercup out in the grassWhere a hundred children pass,And at evening drink the dew,Than be you,Poor little rich flower,Shut up in a lady's bower.Does the lady look your wayAny day?Ever stoop to you and bless?Give your head a soft caress?You are such a tiny partOf all her things. Her heartA crowded palace is; but O, to know the blissOf being meadow-glad—like this—You should be out in the grassWhere the happy children pass—We would like to welcome youTo our sunshine, rain, and dew,Flower, in a lady's bower.***The Seedling by Paul Laurence DunbarAs a quiet little seedlingLay within its darksome bed,To itself it fell a-talking,And this is what it said:"I am not so very robust,But I'll do the best I can;"And the seedling from that momentIts work of life began.So it pushed a little leafletUp into the light of day,To examine the surroundingsAnd show the rest the way.The leaflet liked the prospect,So it called its brother, Stem;Then two other leaflets heard it,And quickly followed them.To be sure, the haste and hurryMade the seedling sweat and pant;But almost before it knew itIt found itself a plant.The sunshine poured upon it,And the clouds they gave a shower;And the little plant kept growingTill it found itself a flower.Little folks, be like the seedling,Always do the best you can;Every child must share life's laborJust as well as every man.And the sun and showers will help youThrough the lonesome, struggling hours,Till you raise to light and beautyVirtue's fair, unfading flowers.***“Putting in the Seed”You come to fetch me from my work to-nightWhen supper’s on the table, and we’ll seeIf I can leave off burying the whiteSoft petals fallen from the apple tree.(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea;)And go along with you ere you lose sightOf what you came for and become like me,Slave to a springtime passion for the earth.How Love burns through the Putting in the SeedOn through the watching for that early birthWhen, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,The sturdy seedling with arched body comesShouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.***“To-day is very beautiful — just as bright, just as blue, just as green and as white and as crimson as the cherry-trees full in bloom, and the half-opening peach-blossoms, and the grass just waving, and sky and hill and cloud can make it, if they try. How I wish you were here … you thought last Saturday beautiful, yet to this golden day 't was but one single gem to whole handfuls of jewels…” – Emily Dickinson***A lovely spring nightsuddenly vanished while weviewed cherry blossoms– Matsuo Basho***Gazing at them, immersed,I become so intimatewith the blossoms;and with the falling away and separationcomes sorrow— Saigyo (1118-1190)***Are we to look at cherry blossoms only in full bloom, the moon only when it is cloudless? To long for the moon while looking on the rain, to lower the blinds and be unaware of the passing of spring—these are even more deeply moving. Branches about to blossom or gardens strewn with faded flowers are worthier of our admiration.– Yoshida Kenko, Essays in Idleness (1330-1332)***If there were no such thingas cherry blossomsin this world,in springtime how untroubledour hearts would be!— Ariwara no Narihira***"Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now" by A. E. HousmanLoveliest of trees, the cherry nowIs hung with bloom along the bough,And stands about the woodland rideWearing white for Eastertide.Now, of my threescore years and ten,Twenty will not come again,And take from seventy springs a score,It only leaves me fifty more.And since to look at things in bloomFifty springs are little room,About the woodlands I will goTo see the cherry hung with snow. Seasonal RecipesOhagi / Botamochi recipeForaging wild mustardPreserved cherry blossomsSakura mochi Music Featured This EpisodeBeethoven, Symphony No. 9Aourourou, Blue Dot SessionsSal’s Place, Blue Dot SessionsString Quartet No. 6 in B Flat Major, BeethovenPour les agreements, Claude DebussyVerdigris, Blue Dot SessionsHebrides Overture, Fingal’s Cave, Felix MendelssohnShade Ways, Blue Dot SessionsOn Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring, Frederick DeliusThe Derricks, Blue Dot SessionsPasture, Blue Dot SessionsJog to the Water, Blue Dot SessionsConvergence, Pictures of the Floating WolrdCycles, Pictures of the Floating WorldCircadian, Pictures of the Floating WorldMemories, Pictures of the Floating World Works Cited/Further ResearchEast Wind Melts the Ice by Liza Dalby Visual Examples of Seasonal Words spring meadow tsukushi / field horsetail mustard flower willow Two Barn Swallows in Flight, Willow Branch and Flowering Cherry above swallow sparrow nanohana / canola flower botamochi wildflowers full moon over cherry blossoms at night Kit's yozakura / cherry blossom evening sakura / cherry blossoms cherry blossoms Alexis' creek Thank you for being a part of our seasonal journey.See you in another season!
Wintering Insects Awake Rediscovered
Mar 04, 2024
Show notes
March 5 -20In this invigorating episode, "Wintering Insects Awake," Alexis and Kit are swept away by March winds to the mountains and the seaside as they traverse this season of awakenings. Our co-hosts reflect on a year of Season by Season, while looking forward to the seasons still to come. In Hiro's Corner, a trio of fragrant plants are on the menu: ninniku, nira, and nobiru.Listen and subscribe on Apple and Spotify. Wintering Insects Awake Rediscovered Alexis & Kit Wintering Insects Awake Spotify Companion Playlist Poems Featured in this EpisodeTo March by Emily DickinsonDear March, come in!How glad I am!I looked for you before.Put down your hat —You must have walked —How out of breath you are!Dear March, how are you?And the rest?Did you leave Nature well?Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,I have so much to tell!I got your letter, and the birds’;The maples never knewThat you were coming, — I declare,How red their faces grew!But, March, forgive me —And all those hillsYou left for me to hue;There was no purple suitable,You took it all with you.Who knocks? That April!Lock the door!I will not be pursued!He stayed away a year, to callWhen I am occupied.But trifles look so trivialAs soon as you have come,That blame is just as dear as praiseAnd praise as mere as blame.***March Poem by William Cullent Bryant The stormy March is come at last,With wind, and cloud, and changing skies,I hear the rushing of the blast,That through the snowy valley flies.Ah, passing few are they who speak,Wild stormy month! in praise of thee;Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak,Thou art a welcome month to me.For thou, to northern lands, againThe glad and glorious sun dost bring,And thou hast joined the gentle trainAnd wear'st the gentle name of Spring.And, in thy reign of blast and storm,Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day,When the changed winds are soft and warm,And heaven puts on the blue of May.***The Mountains in March by Ada A. MosherHark, how in impotent rage old EuroclydonScourges the bare-shouldered mountains to-night!While their low laughter doth answer to mock the oneWielding the lash that the lash is so light.Laugh they as laughed in his slumber old Ymir,When the great Norse giant's ponderous maceSmote his bare forehead, low muttered the dreamer,"Breezes must blow, I feel leaves on my face."So these grim giants that, hoary and battle-proof,Guard this old pass, spurn Euroclydon's guage;Laugh him to scorn while his anger doth but behoofSport for these warriors who mock at his rage.Loose are his storm-steeds; the snap of his lariatMaddens to fury the pulse of their speed;Down the deep gorges on thunders his chariotHot in pursuit of each mane-tossing steed.***Quarreling water flows down The laughing mountains — Katsuo Sekimori***The sound of wings flappingAs they return to the skyLaughing mountain— Akira Horimai***The old shoji screensOpen to let in the lightOn the day the mountain laughs— Nojimia Shijin***Unveiled by Jessie Belle RittenhouseTo-day the hills put off their hazeAnd stand so green and clearThat every peak remote and strangeIs intimate and near.I can make out the very treesThat mass upon their sides,And look deep into the white cloudThat swift above them rides.But, oh, I would not have them standUnveiled by blowing air;Give me the blue, blue mists againThat make them far and fair!***Through clouds of spring mudThe mountain road— Nishijima Bakunan***The sun setsAnd the puddles of spring mudTurn gold— Ryōtei Fukuda***Splashingin the spring mudYou forget your age— Kimiko Kato ***Above ground and below groundthe air is ready for insects to stir.— Ishii Rogetsu ***The insects are astirin the gardenas I'm sweeping— Shimada Shige***wake up! wake up!and become my friendyou sleeping butterfly — Basho ***the dandelionsometimes wakes the butterfly from its dream— Chiyo-jo*** in my gardenthe flowering dandelionshave a feeling for poetry . . .— Masaoka Shiki ***First Dandelion by Walt WhitmanSimple and fresh and fair from winter's close emerging,As if no artifice of fashion, business, politics, had ever been,Forth from its sunny nook of shelter'd grass—innocent, golden, calm as the dawn,The spring's first dandelion shows its trustful face. ***Excerpt from "Queen Mab," by Percy Bysshe ShelleyThough storms may break the primrose on its stalk,Though frosts may blight the freshness of its bloom,Yet Spring’s awakening breath will woo the earth,To feed with kindliest dews its favourite flower,That blooms in mossy banks and darksome glens,Lighting the greenwood with its sunny smile.*** everything I pick upis alive -- ebb-tide— Chiyo-jo***firefly squid ...the Sea of Japan finally showswaves of springtime— Takaki Susu no Ie***A Light exists in SpringNot present on the YearAt any other period —When March is scarcely hereA Color stands abroadOn Solitary FieldsThat Science cannot overtakeBut Human Nature feels.It waits upon the Lawn,It shows the furthest TreeUpon the furthest Slope you knowIt almost speaks to you.Then as Horizons stepOr Noons report awayWithout the Formula of soundIt passes and we stay —A quality of lossAffecting our ContentAs Trade had suddenly encroachedUpon a Sacrament.— Emily Dickinson*** The Rainbow by Walter de la MareI saw the lovely archOf Rainbow span the sky,The gold sun burningAs the rain swept by.In bright-ringed solitudeThe showery foliage shoneOne lovely moment,And the Bow was gone.***The Rainbow (excerpt) by Felicia HemansE'en now full many a blossom's bellWith fragrance fills the shade;And verdure clothes each grassy dell,In brighter tints arrayed.But mark! what arch of varied hueFrom heaven to earth is bowed?Haste, ere it vanish, haste to viewThe Rainbow in the cloud.How bright its glory! there beholdThe emerald's verdant rays,The topaz blends its hue of goldWith the deep ruby's blaze.*** St. Patrick’s Day (excerpt) by Jean BlewettThere’s an Isle, a green Isle, set in the sea,Here’s to the Saint that blessed it!And here’s to the billows wild and freeThat for centuries have caressed it! A Seasonal Recipe: Chocolate Guinness Cake RecipeFor the cake:Butter for pan1 cup Guinness stout10 tablespoons (1 stick plus 2 tablespoons) unsalted butter¾ cup unsweetened cocoa2 cups superfine sugar¾ cup sour cream2 large eggs1 tablespoon vanilla extract2 cups all-purpose flour2 ½ teaspoons baking sodaFor the topping:1 ¼ cups confectioners' sugar8 ounces cream cheese at room temperature½ cup heavy creamsplash of Bailey's (optional, to taste)PreparationFor the cake: heat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 9-inch springform pan and line with parchment paper. In a large saucepan, combine Guinness and butter. Place over medium-low heat until butter melts, then remove from heat. Add cocoa and superfine sugar, and whisk to blend.In a small bowl, combine sour cream, eggs and vanilla; mix well. Add to Guinness mixture. Add flour and baking soda, and whisk again until smooth. Pour into buttered pan, and bake until risen and firm, 45 minutes to one hour. Place pan on a wire rack and cool completely in pan.For the topping: Using a food processor or by hand, mix confectioners' sugar to break up lumps. Add cream cheese and blend until smooth. Add heavy cream, and mix until smooth and spreadable.Remove cake from pan and place on a platter or cake stand. Ice top of cake only, so that it resembles a frothy pint of Guinness. Music Featured in this Episode Haru no Umi Redux by James Schlefer and Kenneth WoodsBWV 998 II Fugue, Johann Sebastian BachThe Wind by KumikuSymphony No. 1 by Gustav MahlerQuintet for Piano and Winds by Wolfgang Amadeus MozartGarden Tiger by Pictures of the Floating WorldSpring by Allister Thompson and Philippa DowdingConstellations by Siddhartha CorsusEmpire of Light by Siddhartha CorsusLute Concerto in D Major by Antonio VivaldiVisual Examples of Seasonal Words Yamawarau / Laughing Mountains Spring mists Dandelion Cowslip primrose Clam digging Spring Sea Hatsucho / First butterfly Rainbow Garlic Nira Nira Nobiru Spring mud
Snow Becomes Rain Rediscovered
Feb 20, 2024
Show notes
February 19 - March 4In this stirring episode, Alexis and Kit return to the garden just as it is re-awakening with early flowers, and eagerly expect the spring thaw. In Hiro’s Corner, a look at the peach blossom and the spring festival it inspired. Snow Becomes Rain Alexis & Kit Listen and subscribe on Apple and Spotify. Poems Featured in this PodcastIn Earliest Spring by William Dean HowellsTossing mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles,Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath,Through all the moaning chimneys, and 'thwart all the hollows and anglesRound the shuddering house, threatening of winter and death.But in my heart I feel the life of the wood and the meadowThrilling the pulses that own kindred with fibres that liftBud and blade to the sunward, within the inscrutable shadow,Deep in the oak's chill core, under the gathering drift.Nay, to earth's life in mine some prescience, or dream, or desire(How shall I name it aright?) comes for a moment and goes-Rapture of life ineffable, perfect-as if in the brier,Leafless there by my door, trembled a sense of the rose.***March Hares, by Andrew Young I made myself as a tree,No withered leaf twirling on me;No, not a bird that stirred the boughs,As looking out from wizard browsI watched those lithe and lovely formsThat raised the leaves in storms.I watched them leap and run,Their bodies hollowed in the sunTo thin transparency,That I could clearly seeThe shallow colour of their bloodJoyous in love’s full flood.I was content enough,Watching that serious game of love,That happy hunting in the woodWhere the pursuer was the more pursued,To stand in breathless hushWith no more life myself than tree or bush.***The snow on my hutMelted AwayIn a clumsy manner– Issa***The sun has setAnd the spring waterIncreased in volume? –Kito***Ice and waterTheir differences resolvedAre friends again– Teishitsu***March is the Month of Expectation by Emily Dickinson March is the Month of Expectation.The things we do not know—The Persons of prognosticationAre coming now—We try to show becoming firmness—But pompous JoyBetrays us, as his first BetrothalBetrays a Boy.***The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett (excerpt)As she came near the second of these alcoves she stopped skipping. There had once been a flowerbed in it, and she thought she saw something sticking out of the black earth—some sharp little pale green points. She remembered what Ben Weatherstaff had said and she knelt down to look at them.“Yes, they are tiny growing things and they might be crocuses or snowdrops or daffodils,” she whispered.She bent very close to them and sniffed the fresh scent of the damp earth. She liked it very much.“Perhaps there are some other ones coming up in other places,” she said. “I will go all over the garden and look.”She did not skip, but walked. She went slowly and kept her eyes on the ground. She looked in the old border beds and among the grass, and after she had gone round, trying to miss nothing, she had found ever so many more sharp, pale green points, and she had become quite excited again.“It isn’t a quite dead garden,” she cried out softly to herself. “Even if the roses are dead, there are other things alive.”***High Waving Heather by Emily BronteHigh waving heather, 'neath stormy blasts bending,Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars;Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending,Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending,Man's spirit away from its drear dongeon sending,Bursting the fetters and breaking the bars.All down the mountain sides, wild forest lendingOne mighty voice to the life-giving wind;Rivers their banks in the jubilee rending,Fast through the valleys a reckless course wending,Wider and deeper their waters extending,Leaving a desolate desert behind.Shining and lowering and swelling and dying,Changing for ever from midnight to noon;Roaring like thunder, like soft music sighing,Shadows on shadows advancing and flying,Lightning-bright flashes the deep gloom defying,Coming as swiftly and fading as soon.***This spring morning in bed I'm lying,Not to awake till the birds are crying.After one night of wind and showers,How many are the fallen flowers?— Meng Haoran***The plum tree bent under the winter freeze,With showers, all at once opens its budsThe moon, through mists, projects its shadow;In the dark, breezes carry its scentA few days back, the trunk was buried in snow;Now, branches bear flowers anew,Through hardship and the bitter cold—This dignity, at the forefront of spring.– Hounsai***Witch hazel (excerpt) by Elizabeth Akers AllenWhat wizard, wise in spells of drugs and gums,With weird divining-rodConjures this luminous loveliness that comesAs if by magic from the frozen sod?Fearless witch-hazel! braver than the oakThat dares not bloom till spring,Thus to defy the frost's benumbing strokeWith challenge of November blossoming!And yet it has an airy, delicate graceDenied all other flowers,And lights the gloom as some beloved faceDawns on the dark of melancholy hours.Miraculous shrub, that thus in frost and blightSmilest all undismayed,And scatterest from thy wands of golden lightA sudden sunshine in the chilly glade.***Crocuses by Hannah Flagg GouldDown in my solitude under the snow,Where nothing cheering can reach me;Here, without light to see how to grow,I’ll trust to nature to teach me.I will not despair–nor be idle, nor frown,Locked in so gloomy a dwelling;My leaves shall run up, and my roots shall run down,While the bud in my bosom is swelling.Soon as the frost will get out of my bed,From this cold dungeon to free me,I will peer up with my little bright head,And all will be joyful to see me.Then from my heart will young petals diverge,As rays of the sun from their focus;I from the darkness of earth shall emerge,A happy and beautiful Crocus!Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower,This little lesson may borrow,Patient today, through its gloomiest hour,We come out the brighter tomorrow.***The geese go north --today they see rice fieldsfull of water – Issa***Returning geese,have you completelygiven up on me? – Issa***March Poem (excerpt) by William Cullen BryantThe stormy March is come at last,With wind, and cloud, and changing skies,I hear the rushing of the blast,That through the snowy valley flies.Ah, passing few are they who speak,Wild stormy month! in praise of thee;Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak,Thou art a welcome month to me.***For thou, to northern lands, againThe glad and glorious sun dost bring,And thou hast joined the gentle trainAnd wear'st the gentle name of Spring. ***Those ten years of sweat:wash them awayin the hot springs of Dogo– Shiki***In the cold airFloat clouds from the second storyOnsen– Natsume Souseki***Entering the watersAlone in springThe onsen overflows– Tetsunosuke Matsuzeki***The rain begins to fallWe seek cover in the onsen– Shoha Kuroyanagi***Steam from the onsenIf the north wind quietedThe mountains would be hidden– Kenji Fukami***A train headed for onsen countryOne cherry blossom falls– Chiharu Yazaki***No hina dolls;you are the flower faceof peach blossom– Rogetsu***This old thatched hutwill change inhabitants now -a home with dolls– Basho***Unchanging dolls' faces --I've had no choice, exceptto grow old– Seifu***Let’s light the lanternsLet’s place the peach flowersFive court musicians are playing flutes and drumsToday is a joyful Hina Matsuri Works Cited / ResourcesJapanese American Cultural & Community Center's page on HinamatsuriHinamatsuri: Japan's Doll FestivalGirls' Day, or Hinamatsuri Seasonal RecipesChirashi Sushi CakeHishi MochiSakura Mochi What mini-season comes after Snow Becomes Rain?Wintering Insects Awake (March 5 - 19) Keichitsu 啓蟄 Visual Examples of Seasonal Words March Hare running streams heather blossoms crocuses spring melt returning geese quince blossoms witch hazel peach blossoms peach blossoms enjoying onsen Hina Matsuri doll display
The Beginning of Spring Rediscovered
Feb 03, 2024
Show notes
February 4 - 20
In this hopeful episode, "The Beginning of Spring," Alexis and Kit notice signs of winter's end among the scents of the trees, the songs of birds, and a special, perhaps romantic, feeling in the air. Hiro's Corner takes a look at a boggy perennial.
O thrush, is it true? Your song tells Of a world born anew, Of fields gold with buttercups, woodlands all blue With hyacinth bells; Of primroses deep In the moss of the lane, Of a Princess asleep And dear magic to do. Will the sun wake the princess? O thrush, is it true? Will Spring come again?
Will Spring come again? Now at last With soft shine and rain Will the violet be sweet where the dead leaves have lain? Will Winter be past? In the brown of the copse Will white wind-flowers star through Where the last oak-leaf drops? Will the daisies come too, And the may and the lilac? Will Spring come again? O thrush, is it true?
*** More than shadow Is the wind Returning cold
— Teiko Inahata
*** The return of cold Then the return of cold again Springtime
— Nishiyama Hakun
*** Two hoes hang on the wall Shallow Spring — Murakami Kijo
*** Shallow Spring is coming And already I'm in the garden — Sekitei Hara
***
He Knows No Winter by Sudie Stuart Hager He knows no winter, he who loves the soil, For, stormy days, when he is free from toil, He plans his summer crops, selects his seeds From bright-paged catalogues for garden needs. When looking out upon frost-silvered fields, He visualizes autumn's golden yields; He sees in snow and sleet and icy rain Precious moisture for his early grain; He hears spring-heralds in the storm's turmoil He knows no winter, he who loves the soil.
***
As evening deepens The scent of burning fields Rises in the air — Inahata Teiko *** The morning’s blue sky of Aso Eagerly await The burning fields - Matuso Basho
*** February by Jane [Goodwin] Austin
I thought the world was cold in death; The flowers, the birds, all life was gone, For January's bitter breath Had slain the bloom and hushed the song. And still the earth is cold and white, And mead and forest yet are bare; But there's a something in the light That says the germ of life is there.
***
Evening In A Sugar Orchard by Robert Frost From where I lingered in a lull in march outside the sugar-house one night for choice, I called the fireman with a careful voice And bade him leave the pan and stoke the arch: 'O fireman, give the fire another stoke, And send more sparks up chimney with the smoke.' I thought a few might tangle, as they did, Among bare maple boughs, and in the rare Hill atmosphere not cease to glow, And so be added to the moon up there. The moon, though slight, was moon enough to show On every tree a bucket with a lid, And on black ground a bear-skin rug of snow. The sparks made no attempt to be the moon. They were content to figure in the trees As Leo, Orion, and the Pleiades. And that was what the boughs were full of soon.
***
If not for the call of the bush warbler coming out of the valley, who then would be aware of the arrival of springtime?
— Ôe no Chisato, from the Kokinshū
***
Singing practice every morning with the warbler
— Issa ***
Even the warbler’s voice gets hoarse - snow still on Fuji
— Chiyo-jo
***
The warbler has been perching on that plum-tree for all eternity
— Onitsura
*** A warbler sings so sweet… and by the eaves… plum blossoms
— Buson
***
When the east wind blows, Send me your perfume, Blossoms of the plum: Though your lord be absent, Forget not the spring.
— Sugawara Michizane
*** As on the plum comes blossom after blossom, so comes the warmth of spring.
— Ransetsu
*** All the snow melts -- everywhere the fragrance of wild plum blossoms
— Tagami Kikusha
***
When everything has faded they alone shine forth, encroaching on the charms of smaller gardens. Their scattered shadows fall lightly on clear water, their subtle scent pervades the moonlit dusk.
— Lin Bu
***
Lover cat as a cat in love has its own way
— Nagata Koui
***
While hitting the heads of dandelions cats in love
— Issa
***
Love drunk Chasing after a chicken A male cat
— Issa ***
Plum blossom scent sends him off carousing... lazy cat
— Issa
***
Cats in love when they stop in my bedroom a hazy moon
— Basho
***
Hearts Were Made to Give Away by Annette Wynne
Hearts were made to give away On Valentine's good day; Wrap them up in dainty white, Send them off the thirteenth night. Any kind of heart that's handy— Hearts of lace, and hearts of candy, Hearts all trimmed with ribbands fine Send for good St. Valentine. Hearts were made to give away On Valentine's dear day.
***
1886 ST. VALENTINE'S DAY By Christina Rossetti
Winter's latest snowflake is the snowdrop flower, Yellow crocus kindles the first flame of the Spring, At that time appointed, at that day and hour When life reawakens and hope in everything. Such a tender snowflake in the wintry weather, Such a feeble flamelet for chilled St. Valentine,-- But blest be any weather which finds us still together, My pleasure and my treasure O blessed Mother mine.
***
Pancakes by Christina Rossetti
Mix a pancake, Stir a pancake, Pop it in the pan; Fry the pancake, Toss the pancake— Catch it if you can.
***
Another year is gone with the sound of the firecrackers. Spring is coming, we can feel the warm wind. It is time to drink the tu su wine. On this bright new year’s day, thousands of families are busy. Every family is busy with changing the old scrolls and putting up the new ones.
1/4 cup (25g) cocoa powder (I use Dutch-processed)
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1/3 cup (65g) granulated sugar
1 cup (240 ml) whole milk
3 tablespoons canola or vegetable oil (or 45g melted butter)
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup (85g) chocolate chips or chunks
butter or oil , for cooking
Chocolate Ganache Sauce
140 g (5 oz.) bittersweet or semisweet chocolate
1/2 cup (120 ml) heavy cream
Instructions
In a large bowl, sift together flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, and salt (or whisk well with a whisk). Set aside.
In a separate medium bowl, whisk together egg and sugar until well combined. Add milk, oil (or melted butter), and vanilla extract. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir just until combined and moistened. Do not over mix. Mix in chocolate chips or chunks. Set batter aside and make the chocolate sauce.
Chocolate sauce: In a medium heatproof bowl, combine chocolate and heavy cream. Microwave in 20- to 30-second increments, mixing in between, until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth. Set aside while making the pancakes. I like to pour it over the pancakes while it’s warm.
Cook the pancakes: Heat a griddle or skillet over medium heat. Coat with butter or oil. For each pancake, drop 1/4 cup of batter onto skillet. Cook 1-2 minutes, until surface of pancakes have some bubbles and the bottom appears to be done. Flip carefully and cook another 1-2 minutes. Transfer to a plate and if you want you can cover the plate loosely with aluminum foil to keep warm. Coat the skillet with butter or oil before every pancake or batch of pancakes to prevent sticking.
Serve immediately with chocolate sauce (rewarm sauce in the microwave for a few seconds if needed).
Visual Examples of Seasonal Words
Deep Cold Rediscovered
Jan 20, 2024
Show notes
January 20 - February 2In this fortifying episode, Alexis and Kit weather the coldest days of the year by taking part in indoor pleasures, admiring the austere beauty of the winter landscape, and looking forward to spring. Hiro’s Corner takes a deeper look at the seasonal phrase “big cold.” Deep Cold Rediscovered Alexis & Kit Listen and subscribe on Apple and Spotify. Poems Featured this EpisodeExcerpt from “The Invitation” by Percy Bysshe ShelleyBest and brightest, come away!Fairer far than this fair Day,Which, like thee to those in sorrow,Comes to bid a sweet good-morrowTo the rough Year just awakeIn its cradle on the brake.The Brightest hour of unborn Spring,Through the winter wandering,Found, it seems, the halcyon MornTo hoar February born.Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth,It kissed the forehead of the Earth,And smiled upon the silent sea,And bade the frozen streams be free,And waked to music all their fountains,And breathed upon the frozen mountains,And like a prophetess of MayStrewed flowers upon the barren way,Making the wintry world appearLike one on whom thou smilest, dear. ***Winter's Beauty by William Henry DaviesIs it not fine to walk in spring,When leaves are born, and hear birds sing?And when they lose their singing powers,In summer, watch the bees at flowers?Is it not fine, when summer's past,To have the leaves, no longer fast,Biting my heel where'er I go,Or dancing lightly on my toe?Now winter's here and rivers freeze;As I walk out I see the trees,Wherein the pretty squirrels sleep,All standing in the snow so deep:And every twig, however small,Is blossomed white and beautiful.Then welcome, winter, with thy powerTo make this tree a big white flower;To make this tree a lovely sight,With fifty brown arms draped in white,While thousands of small fingers showIn soft white gloves of purest snow.***I'm January by Annette WynneI'm January bringing youA year of days—all brand, brand new;I step upon the frosty ground.When chimes and sleighbells ring around;You welcome me and children sing,And joy comes into everything.I bring you love and lots of cheer,And work and friends for all the year.***The winter stormHide the bamboo groveAnd quieted away.– Basho***Winter solitude—In a world of one colorThe sound of wind.— Basho***Winter Dawn by Amos Russell WellsThe trees are still; the bare cold branches lieAgainst a waiting sky.Light everywhere, but ghostly light that seemsThe cast-off robe of dreams;And everywhere a hush that seems to harkAt the doorway of the dark.O fields, white-sheeted, desolate and dumb,—If you knew what's to come!***Night wind--the shrine's iciclesreflect the lights– Issa***The Thawing Wind by Robert FrostCome with rain, O loud Southwester!Bring the singer, bring the nester;Give the buried flower a dream;Make the settled snowbank steam;Find the brown beneath the white;But whate’er you do tonight,Bathe my window, make it flow,Melt it as the ice will go;Melt the glass and leave the sticksLike a hermit’s crucifix;Burst into my narrow stall;Swing the picture on the wall;Run the rattling pages o’er;Scatter poems on the floor;Turn the poet out of door.***Excerpt from The House on Pooh Corner by A.A.MilneThe more it snows (Tiddely pom)The more it goes (Tiddely pom)The more it goes (Tiddely pom)On snowingAnd nobody knows (Tiddely pom)How cold my toes (Tiddely pom)How cold my toes (Tiddely pom)Are growing***No fix place to livein my traveler's mind -this little kotatsu– Basho***Moving to a new homeit really fits perfectly,my old kotatsu . . . – Buson***My true lovenight after night --my hot water bottle — Kobayashi Issa***All I ask of the world,a hot water bottle -I'm cold!— Naito Meisetsu***Clicking of needles -the promise of warmth takes shapein my cold hands— Kit***Excerpt from The Winter’s Come, by John ClareTis Winter, and I love to read indoors,When the Moon hangs her crescent up on high;While on the window shutters the wind roars,And storms like furies pass remorseless by.How pleasant on a feather bed to lie,Or, sitting by the fire, in fancy soarWith Dante or with Milton to regions high,Or read fresh volumes we've not seen before,Or o’er old Burton's Melancholy pore.***After the Winter by Claude McKaySome day, when trees have shed their leavesAnd against the morning’s whiteThe shivering birds beneath the eavesHave sheltered for the night,We’ll turn our faces southward, love,Toward the summer isleWhere bamboos spire the shafted groveAnd wide-mouthed orchids smile.And we will seek the quiet hillWhere towers the cotton tree,And leaps the laughing crystal rill,And works the droning bee.And we will build a cottage thereBeside an open glade,With black-ribbed blue-bells blowing near,And ferns that never fade.***I Cannot Dance upon my Toes by Emily DickinsonI cannot dance upon my Toes—No Man instructed me—But oftentimes, among my mind,A Glee possesseth me,That had I Ballet knowledge—Would put itself abroadIn Pirouette to blanch a Troupe—Or lay a Prima, mad,And though I had no Gown of Gauze—No Ringlet, to my Hair,Nor hopped to Audiences—like Birds,One Claw upon the Air,Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,Nor rolled on wheels of snowTill I was out of sight, in sound,The House encore me so—Nor any know I know the ArtI mention—easy—Here—Nor any Placard boast me—It’s full as Opera—***The Poor Trees Stand and Shiver So, by Annette WynneThe poor trees stand and shiver so,Like ragged beggars in a row,Without a cloak in frost and snow.I think it's strange about the trees—In summer when there's little breezeThey all dress up rich as you please.No beggars then, but fine and grandLike Princes of a mighty landAcross the world in rows they stand.But now in cold they shiver soLike ragged beggars in a row—Without a cloak in wind and snow.***Firwood, by John ClareThe fir trees taper into twigs and wearThe rich blue green of summer all the year,Softening the roughest tempest almost calmAnd offering shelter ever still and warmTo the small path that towels underneath,Where loudest winds—almost as summer's breath—Scarce fan the weed that lingers green belowWhen others out of doors are lost in frost and snow.And sweet the music trembles on the earAs the wind suthers through each tiny spear,Makeshifts for leaves; and yet, so rich they show,Winter is almost summer where they grow.***A Dream of Summer, by John Greenleaf WhittierBland as the morning breath of JuneThe southwest breezes play;And, through its haze, the winter noonSeems warm as summer's day.The snow-plumed Angel of the NorthHas dropped his icy spear;Again the mossy earth looks forth,Again the streams gush clear.The fox his hillside cell forsakes,The muskrat leaves his nook,The bluebird in the meadow brakesIs singing with the brook."Bear up, O Mother Nature!" cryBird, breeze, and streamlet free;"Our winter voices prophesyOf summer days to thee!"So, in those winters of the soul,By bitter blasts and drearO'erswept from Memory's frozen pole,Will sunny days appear.Reviving Hope and Faith, they showThe soul its living powers,And how beneath the winter's snowLie germs of summer flowers! Artwork & Artists Featured in This Podcast Birds of Paradise by Laura Garcia Serventi Laura Garcia Serventi is an Argentinian painter and illustrator based in Brooklyn. Her paintings, deeply inspired by her love of the Botanical world, are also related to the memories of her childhood spent in Buenos Aires.Laura's work is always evolving and ranges from large scaled original paintings to affordable art prints, stationary products, editorial work, animation and collaborations with clients such as Pure Sunfarms, Buccellati, Patrizia Pepe, Anthropologie, LeSportSac, Cloudberries Puzzles, Bridgeman Images, Victionary and Charles and Keith, among others. Learn more about her and her artwork on her website. ELECTRIC DIAMOND is one of the longest-lived electronic performance ensembles - 40 years plus and going strong. It is a reimagining of the classical music chamber ensemble. The group first performed in 1979 playing concerts at Carnegie Recital Hall, Symphony Space, the Guggenheim Museum and other venues of the New York 1970s new music scene. In the mid 1980’s electronic wind player founder Stuart Diamond joined forces with the eclectic, electric keyboard innovator Don Slepian, whose credits and talents are legendary – from artist-engineer-in-residence at Bell Laboratories to the original ambient sound painter for “Music from the Hearts of Space.” Learn more on their website. What Season Comes After Deep Cold?Welcome spring with our 2020 episode: “The Beginning of Spring” Works Cited / ResourcesEhomaki: Unraveling the Giant Sushi Roll PhenomenonWhy Victorian People Loved Posing Next to Aspidistra PlantsFEDCO Seeds Seasonal RecipesEhomaki Roll Music Featured This EpisodeKetsa - Gentle Wave, A Box of Delights, Sorrow of the Sun, Soul Zone, Scattered, Silent Dreams, Forest FriendsFaurepieceSerge Quadrado - The River SongCrowander - OvertureLobo Loco - Mountain Bells Visual Examples of Seasonal Words February in California (with eucalyptus) snowstorms icicles frost bare branches evergreens reading and indoor pleasures knitting and knitwear kotatsu water bottle / yutanpo Kit's water bottle cover beans and oni for Setsubun oni and ehomaki Groundhog Day groundhog
In the first Season by Season episode of the New Year, Alexis and Kit prepare for the upcoming year while discussing the season of keeping resolutions, visits from snow crows, windy winter weather, and early growing plants that herald the coming spring. Hiro's Corner takes a closer look at the Japanese calendar and the naming of the month of January.
Little January Tapped at my door today. And said, "Put on your winter wraps, And come outdoors to play." Little January Is always full of fun; Until the set of sun. Little January Will stay a month with me And we will have such jolly times - Just come along and see.
*** The old calendar Fills me with gratitude Like a sutra
- Yosa Buson
***
First calendar sheet - When I turn it I almost feel The globe has moved
- Yaki Tsutomu
***
New Year’s Resolutions (excerpt), by Rudyard Kipling
I am resolved throughout the year To lay my vices on the shelf; A godly, sober course to steer And love my neighbors as myself— Excepting always two or three Whom I detest as they hate me. I am resolved—that vows like these, Though lightly made, are hard to keep; Wherefore I’ll take them by degrees, Lest my back-slidings make me weep.
***
I went to the mountain And found the fires burning After the Coming of Age festival
— Koji Yoshida
*** On Coming of Age Day The snow storm, too Celebrates — Kaga Hosokawa
*** Static electricity from my sweater Coming of Age Day Is here — Keiichi Makino
***
Plough the land, plough the land; Hold the handles with each hand; Furrows keep straight and deep, Firm and steady stand. Quickly turn around we may, Ploughing back the other way; Plough the land, plough the land— Farmers understand.
***
Snow by Adelaide Crapsey
Look up… From bleakening hills Blows down the light, first breath Of wintry wind…look up, and scent The snow!
***
Ode to the East Wind by C. Kingsley
“Welcome, wild nor-easter Shame it is to see Odes to every zephyr Ne’er a verse to thee.
Welcome, black Nor-easer Over the German foam Over the Danish moorland From thy frozen home
Sweep the golden reed-beds Crisp the lazy dyke Hunger into madness Every plunging pike.
Through the black fir-forest Thunder harsh and dry, Shattering down the snow-flakes Off the curdled sky
***
Gently Falling by Emma Louise Clapp Softly from the sky is falling Snowflakes white as lilies fair; Gently to each other calling As they float down through the air. Softly, softly, oh so softly! Do they come from dizzy heights; Gently, gently, oh, so gently! Do they lay a blanket white. Over all the many housetops, Over shrubs and tall, tall trees, Over hills and field and meadows, Hiding stones and restless leaves.
***
When Days Are Crisp and Bright by Annette Wynne
When days are crisp and bright And flakes are downward hurled, O, to wake up in the light And find a white, white world! O, to look out all around On fence, and bush, and hill, And see the snow piled on the ground And on the window sill! It's hard to sit in school all day And work and study hard, 'Twould be such fun to go and play At soldiers in the yard. And build a fort just like the one The picture has with flag unfurled; The summer's good, but O, the fun To have a white, white world!
***
“A Year’s Windfalls” by Christina Rosetti (excerpt)
On the wind of January Down flits the snow, Travelling from the frozen North As cold as it can blow. Poor robin redbreast, Look where he comes; Let him in to feel your fire, And toss him of your crumbs.
***
A crow Which I'd usually hate So beautiful in morning snow.
— Basho
***
Pounding the seven herbs Doesn't drown him out... Crow
— Issa
***
Shepherd’s Purse by Cecily Mary Barker
Though I’m poor to human eyes Really I am rich and wise. Every tiny flower I shed Leaves a heart-shaped purse instead. In each purse is wealth indeed— Every coin a living seed. Sow the seed upon the earth— Living plants shall spring to birth. Silly people’s purses hold Lifeless silver, clinking gold; But you cannot grow a pound From a farthing in the ground. Money may become a curse: Give me then my Shepherd’s Purse.
***
To a Snowdrop, by William Wordsworth
Lone Flower, hemmed in with snows and white as they But hardier far, once more I see thee bend Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend, Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day, Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, waylay The rising sun, and on the plains descend; Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue-eyed May Shall soon behold this border thickly set With bright jonquils, their odours lavishing On the soft west-wind and his frolic peers; Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snowdrop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
Music Featured in this Podcast
Béla Bartók - Romanian Folk Dances Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - Marriage of Figaro Overture Johann Sebastian Bach - Pythagorean Tuning, Prelude 1 Lobo Loco - Dear Happy New Year Claude Debussy - Toccata for Piano Gabriel Faure - Fantasie Franz Schubert - Octet No. 2 Unheard Music Concepts - Dakota Robert Schumann - A Tale of Distant Lands Johann Strauss II - Tales from the Vienna Woods
Visual Examples of Seasonal Words
Winter Solstice Rediscovered
Dec 21, 2023
Show notes
December 21 - January 5In this special double-length episode, Alexis and Kit celebrate the long Winter Solstice night with music, recipes, books, and joyful traditions of the holiday season. Together, they look forward to the coming new year: the Year of the Tiger. Winter Solstice Rediscovered Alexis & Kit Listen and subscribe on Apple and Spotify.The Winter Solstice Spotify Companion Playlist Poems Featured in this PodcastWinter by Louisa May AlcottThe stormy winter's come at last,With snow and rain and bitter blast;Ponds and brooks are frozen o'er,We cannot sail there any more.The little birds are flown awayTo warmer climes than ours;They'll come no more till gentle MayCalls them back with flowers.Oh, then the darling birds will singFrom their neat nests in the trees.All creatures wake to welcome Spring,And flowers dance in the breeze.With patience wait till winter is o'er,And all lovely things return;Of every season try the moreSome knowledge or virtue to learn.***So the shortest day came, and the year died,And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white worldCame people singing, dancing,To drive the dark away.— Susan Cooper***Excerpt from “Little Gidding,” by T.S. EliotMidwinter spring is its own seasonSempiternal though sodden towards sundown,Suspended in time, between pole and tropic.When the short day is brightest, with frost and fire,The brief sun flames the ice, on pond and ditches,In windless cold that is the heart's heat,Reflecting in a watery mirrorA glare that is blindness in the early afternoon.And glow more intense than blaze of branch, or brazier,Stirs the dumb spirit: no wind, but pentecostal fireIn the dark time of the year. …***Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren,Since o’er shady groves they hoverAnd with leaves and flowers do coverThe friendless bodies of unburied men.Call unto his funeral doleThe ant, the field-mouse, and the moleTo rear him hillocks that shall keep him warmAnd (when gay tombs are robb’d) sustain no harm;But keep the wolf far thence, that’s foe to men,For with his nails he’ll dig them up again.— John Webster***The north wind doth blow,And we shall have snow,And what will poor robin do then?Poor thing.He'll sit in a barn,And keep himself warm,And hide his head under his wing,Poor thing.***The Yule Cat (Jólakötturinn) - (Abridged)Adapted by Kit,from an Icelandic poem by Jóhannes úr Kötlum (1899-1972)Now listen, and learn of the Yule Catwhose legend is dark and grim;No one knew where he came fromNor what became of him.His whiskers are sharp as needles,His back arches with furious rage,His claws dart from his shaggy pawsAs he begins his yuletide rampage.Hungry and wild, he prowlsThrough the bitter Yuletide snow;Yet it was not the cold that made people shiverWherever the Yule Cat did go.Despair befell those who heard the yellOf that huge and vicious Yule Cat.‘Twas not mice but men he hunted -Everybody knew that.He preyed upon the very poorwho received no new clothes for Yule,Those whose lives were very hardWhen winter was especially cruel.So the mothers of the houses all would knitAnd work their spinning wheels,To make a dress, or scarf, or hat,Or socks with colorful heels.For you mustn’t let the CatGet hold of the innocent.The children must have something new to wearEach year, each parent is vigilant.So when candles were lit on Yule EveAnd the cat’s glowing eyes peered in,The little ones showed off their clothes proudlyAnd celebration at last could begin.Some might get new shoes,Or an apron with a ruffled hem,Whatever was needed, as long as it was new,That would be enough to save them.The Yule Cat could not eat them, you see,If they had new clothes to put on.He’d growl and he’d hiss, but after thisHe eventually had to move on.Is the Cat more than legend? I cannot say;But I can tell you this much is true:As long as each Yuletide you have new clothes to wearHe’ll never have to come visit you.Now you might be thinking of helpingWhere help is needed most each year.There are children with nothing, remember,Your gifts surely would bring great cheer.Those who live in a lightless worldSometimes need a little help, it’s clear -So help where you can, and I wish that you’ll haveA merry Yule, and a happy new year!***even dawn gets closerto the last day of the year -the sound of pounding mochi — Matsuo Basho***to my hut tooNew Year's arrives...the zoni vendor — Kobayashi Issa***with the poor manwho lives next doorI share some mochi . . .— Masaoka Shiki***The year ends fast -with the echo of rice-cake poundingI sleep alone. — Matsuo Basho***Every year, I pass the winter solstice alone in a foreign land,Every day, I suffer from depression and sorrow.In this place, I am the poorest and oldest one.Everywhere in the world, families get together this day.With my walking stick, I climb on the hill to watch the snowy scenery,Imagining myself in jade, leaving the palace after meeting with the Emperor.— Du Fu***The Winter Spiral by Nancy FosterDeep Mid-Winter drawing near, Darkness in our Garden here - - One small flame yet bravely burns To show a path which ever turns. Earth, please bear us as we go, Seeking Light to send a-glow: Branches green and moss and fern, Mark our path to trace each turn. Brother animals, teach us too To serve with patience as you do. We walk with candle toward the LightWhile Earth awaits with hope so bright: In the Light which finds new birth Love may spread o'er all the Earth. Deep Mid-Winter drawing near - - May Light arise in our Garden here.***Christmas Recipe by Amos Russell WittTake a cup of thoughtfulness,Take a cup of love,Take the herbs that cheer and bless,Drawn from stores above.Take a pinch or two of pains,And an ounce of wit,And of secrecy two grains,Just to flavor it.Cook it at the fire of zest,Seeking not your own;You will have the merriestChristmas ever known.****Excerpt from “The Candy Country” by Louisa May Alcott'Gingerbread,Go to the head.Your task is done;A soul is won.Take it and goWhere muffins grow,Where sweet loaves riseTo the very skies,And biscuits fairPerfume the air.***winter chrysanthemum--heating amazakein front of the window — Matsuo Basho***Picture-books in Winter by Robert Louis Stevenson from A Child’s Garden of VersesSummer fading, winter comes—Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,Window robins, winter rooks,And the picture story-books.Water now is turned to stoneNurse and I can walk upon;Still we find the flowing brooksIn the picture story-books.All the pretty things put by,Wait upon the children's eye,Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,In the picture story-books.We may see how all things are,Seas and cities, near and far,And the flying fairies' looks,In the picture story-books.How am I to sing your praise,Happy chimney-corner days,Sitting safe in nursery nooks,Reading picture story-books?***Lyrics by Alf PrøysenOne should have been four years old in Romjulawhen the Christmas lights were shining all day longand the world was a house with four walls,where the very bliss was a grandmother’s lap.***A winters nightO-soji completeA break, at last— Unknown***An argumentOver the one piece of paperWhich cannot be thrown away— Babu***The Tyger By William BlakeTyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes?On what wings dare he aspire?What the hand, dare seize the fire?And what shoulder, & what art,Could twist the sinews of thy heart?And when thy heart began to beat,What dread hand? & what dread feet?What the hammer? what the chain, In what furnace was thy brain?What the anvil? what dread grasp, Dare its deadly terrors clasp! When the stars threw down their spears And water'd heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see?Did he who made the Lamb make thee?Tyger Tyger burning bright, In the forests of the night: What immortal hand or eye,Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?***New Year’s DayWhat I feel, has been too much for wordsFor the words— Daio***New Years DayWhat luck! What luck! A pale blue sky— Issa***The first dream of the year I kept it a secretAnd smiled to myself— Sho-U ***The New Year by Anon I am the little New Year, ho, ho ! Here I come tripping it over the snow.Shaking my bells with a merry din –So open your doors and let me in!Presents I bring for each and all –Big folks, little folks, short and tall;Each one from me a treasure may win –So open your doors and let me in!Some shall have silver and some shall have gold,Some shall have new clothes and some shall have old;Some shall have brass and some shall have tin – So open your doors and let me in!Some shall have water and some shall have milk,Some shall have satin and some shall have silk!But each from me a present may win – So open your doors and let me in! Musicians & Music Featured this Episode American ensemble Calliope Brass collaborates with the world’s most prominent creatives to build evocative, story-driven concert experiences for a variety of audiences. Inspired by the eponymous storytelling muse in Greek mythology, Calliope Brass (pronounced “Kuh-LIE-uh-pea”) is most known for its innovative approach, successfully expanding upon the more traditional norm of recital-style performances. As a registered nonprofit, Calliope has obtained several grants for performance and educational initiatives since its inception in 2015.PS: Calliope Brass is raising funds through December 31, 2021 to bring Calliope Brass’ story-driven programming to audiences of all ages in 2022. Donate to their year-end campaign! Additional Music Featured in this PodcastBorrtex, Sledging in the ForestEdoy, An ApproachSiddhartha Corsus, Love is AliveSlainte, Birches Full of StitchesLobo Loco, Happy New YearLobo Loco, Boogie DreamsKevin MacLeod, Snow DropLudwig von Beethoven, Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, Adagio Molto e Cantabile Works Cited & QuotedSunrise WalkersThe Hard Nut by the Mark Morris Dance GroupTorey Avey and the History of GingerbreadToshikoshi Soba from Just One Cookbook Seasonal RecipesHoliday DessertsPepperkake (Gingerbread)Christmas CakeHot DrinksHot ChocolateMulled WineWinter Wassail (and other holiday cocktails!)AmazakeNew Year’s in JapanZenzai (Soup with Azuki and Mochi)Ozoni Soup Visual Examples of Seasonal Words Pounding Mochi Robin Winter Spiral Pepperkakebyen, Gingerbread Town Charles Dickens Hot Chocolate Mulled Wine Christmas Cake (Japan) New Year's Decorations, including Mochi Nengajo, New Year's Cards O-zoni Soup O-Sechi Ryouri
This episode of Season by Season finds Kit and Alexis preparing for the darkening days of winter. Together they discuss cold weather and snow, are cheered by winter birdsong, and find light and warmth in friendship during this merry season. Hiro's Corner explores the snowy landscapes that shape our artistic ideas of wintertime.
Dawn turned on her purple pillow— And late, late came the winter day, Snow was curved to the boughs of the willow. — The sunless world was white and grey.
At noon we heard a blue-jay scolding, — At five the last thin light was lost From snow-banked windows faintly holding — The feathery filigree of frost.
***
It Snows, by Hannah Flagg Gould
It snows! it snows! from out the sky The feathered flakes, how fast they fly, Like little birds, that don't know why They're on the chase, from place to place, While neither can the other trace. It snows! it snows! a merry play Is o'er us, on this heavy day!
To-morrow will the storm be done; Then, out will come the golden sun: And we shall see, upon the run Before his beams, in sparkling streams, What now a curtain o'er him seems. And thus, with life, it ever goes; 'T is shade and shine!—It snows! it snows!
***
I Heard a Bird Sing, by Oliver Herford
I heard a bird sing In the dark of December A magical thing And sweet to remember.
'We are nearer to Spring Than we were in September,' I heard a bird sing In the dark of December."
***
The Cardinal, by Alice E. Ball
When autumn woods are bare and dead, A crested bird, of cardinal red, Sways like an oak-leaf overhead; And sighs, "Drear! drear! Drear!"
When winter woods are white with snow, And drifts pile high as wild winds blow, Like flame this torchlike bird doth glow; And cries, "Whew! whew! whew!"
***
Do all the birds To the southlands go? No! No! Oh, no! Chickadee, Sparrow, Bunting, Crow Care not a whit When the wild winds blow. They care not a whit, They’re sad not a bit, They think naught of it, When the wild winds blow.
(Anon.)
***
Winterberry branch Calls winter birds for breakfast I will feed you now — Amy Ludwig VanDerwater ***
the wren wishes to be in the snow not the blossoms
— Chiyo-jo
***
Dust of Snow, by Robert Frost
The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.
*** Excerpt from Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott:
...Mrs. March got her wet things off, her warm slippers on, and sitting down in the easy chair, drew Amy to her lap, preparing to enjoy the happiest hour of her busy day. The girls flew about, trying to make things comfortable, each in her own way. Meg arranged the tea table, Jo brought wood and set chairs, dropping, over–turning, and clattering everything she touched. Beth trotted to and fro between parlor and kitchen, quiet and busy, while Amy gave directions to everyone, as she sat with her hands folded. ***
There’s rosemary and rue. These keep Seeming and savor all the winter long. Grace and remembrance be to you.
- William Shakespeare (Winter’s Tale, Act 4, Scene 4)
*** There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that’s for thoughts. -William Shakespeare (Hamlet, Act 4, Scene 5)
***
The Christmas Holly by Eliza Cook
The holly! the holly! oh, twine it with bay— Come give the holly a song; For it helps to drive stern winter away, With his garment so sombre and long. It peeps through the trees with its berries of red, And its leaves of burnish’d green, When the flowers and fruits have long been dead, And not even the daisy is seen, Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly, That hangs over peasant and king: While we laugh and carouse ’neath its glitt’ring boughs, To the Christmas holly we’ll sing.
***
People, Look East, by Eleanor Farjeon People, look east. The time is near Of the crowning of the year. Make your house fair as you are able, Trim the hearth and set the table. People, look east and sing today: Love, the guest, is on the way.
***
From "The Shortest Day," by Susan Cooper
“So the shortest day came, and the year died, And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world Came people singing, dancing, To drive the dark away.”
***
Night walks with a heavy step Round yard and hearth, As the sun departs from earth, Shadows are brooding. There in our dark house, Walking with lit candles, Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia!
Night walks grand, yet silent, Now hear its gentle wings, In every room so hushed, Whispering like wings. Look, at our threshold stands, White-clad with light in her hair, Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia!
Darkness shall take flight soon, From earth's valleys. So she speaks Wonderful words to us: A new day will rise again From the rosy sky… Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia!
***
The Feast of Lights, by Emma Lazarus
Kindle the taper like the steadfast star Ablaze on evening's forehead o'er the earth, And add each night a lustre till afar An eightfold splendor shine above thy hearth. Clash, Israel, the cymbals, touch the lyre, Blow the brass trumpet and the harsh-tongued horn; Chant psalms of victory till the heart takes fire, The Maccabean spirit leap new-born.
*** In the Window
In the window where you can see the glow of my menorah on newly fallen snow, I will set you one little candle on this, the first night of Hanukkah.
St. Lucia Day Buns
1/3 cup milk 1/4 cup butter 1/4 lukewarm water 1 package dry yeast 1/4 cup sugar 1 egg 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/4 teaspoon saffron 2 3/4 cups flour 1 tablespoon cooking oil 1 egg 1 tablespoon water 24 raisins (currants) 1. Warm the milk in the small saucepan over low heat. Cut the butter into small pieces. Add the butter pieces to the warm milk and stir, then turn off the heat. 2. Measure the lukewarm water into the large mixing bowl. Sprinkle the yeast over the water. Stir well. Set the bowl aside for 5 minutes. 3. Add the warm milk and melted butter to the saffron. Stir in the sugar, egg, salt and saffron. Then add 1 1/2 cups flour and stir until smooth. 4. Add enough of the remaining flour so that you can shape the dough into a ball. Save some of the remaining flour for kneading the dough. 5. Put the dough on the floured cutting board. Dust your hands with flour and knead the dough. Add flour when the dough gets sticky. 6. After 5 to 10 minutes of kneading, you will have a smooth ball of dough. It should spring back when you poke it with your finger. Cover the dough with the towel and let it rest while you wash and dry the mixing bowl. 7. Spread cooking oil in the large bowl. Roll the dough in the oil until it is coated. Cover the bowl with the towel and set in a warm place to rise. After 45 minutes, the dough should be twice as large. If not, check it again in 15 minutes. 8. Punch down the dough. Then divide it into 6 sections. Take one section and divide it in half. Roll each half into an 8 inch rope. Cross the two ropes in the middle. Then coil the ends in tight circles. Shape 5 more buns in the same way. 9. Place the buns 2 inches apart on a greased cookie sheet. Cover with the towel. Let the buns rise for 30 to 45 minutes until they double in size. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees while they are rising. 10. Mix the egg and water with the fork in the small bowl. Brush this mixture lightly over the top of each bun. Decorate the buns with raisins. 11. Bake the buns for 15 to 20 minutes. When the buns are golden brown, move them to the wire rack to cool.
O Frondens by Hildegard of Bingen Peace Christmas by Lobo Loco
Deck the Halls by USAFB Concert Band
Sonata No. 8 by Ludwig Van Beethoven performed by Daniel Veesey
Wind Quintet Op. 78 by August Klughart
Violincello and Orchestra in B Minor by Antonin Dvorak
Flute Concerto in G Major by Carl Philipp Emmanuel Bach
Scherzo by Goens performed by John Michel
Light Snow Rediscovered
Nov 21, 2023
Show notes
Visit: seasonbyseason.org for more information
The Beginning of Winter Rediscovered
Nov 06, 2023
Show notes
November 6 - 21
In this brisk episode of Season by Season, Alexis and Kit savor the last moments of autumn. Join them as they kick through the fallen leaves under persimmon trees, prepare their appetites for heartier fare, and learn about the festival of lights Diwali. Hiro's Corner features an interlude with a uniquely autumnal kind of rain.
"November" by Elizabeth Stoddard Much have I spoken of the faded leaf; Long have I listened to the wailing wind, And watched it ploughing through the heavy clouds, For autumn charms my melancholy mind.
When autumn comes, the poets sing a dirge: The year must perish; all the flowers are dead; The sheaves are gathered; and the mottled quail Runs in the stubble, but the lark has fled!
Still, autumn ushers in the Christmas cheer, The holly-berries and the ivy-tree: They weave a chaplet for the Old Year’s bier, These waiting mourners do not sing for me! I find sweet peace in depths of autumn woods, Where grow the ragged ferns and roughened moss; The naked, silent trees have taught me this,— The loss of beauty is not always loss!
***
a shooting star... unable to use up the length of the vast sky
— Shugyo Takaha
*** Slurping ramen In Kitakata The north wind blows - hyuuuu! —Takasawa Yoichi ***
After a climb To the mountain top A ramen shop —Takasawa Yoichi
*** A jumbo serving of clams For my ramen The cold rain pelts —Akabane Toshiko
***
A cold, gray day, a lowering sky, A lonesome pigeon wheeling by; The soft, blue smoke that hangs and fades, The shivering crane that flaps and wades; Dead leaves that, whispering, quit their tree, The peace the river sings to me; The chill aloofness of the Fall— I love it all!
—Unknown
***
today too, today too autumn rain... mountainside house —Issa
*** Cold Winter shower! See all the people running Across the Seta Bridge
-Josa
*** The scarlet leaves Serve as armor for the mountain Against the rain
—Chobane ***
November Night by Adelaide Crapsey
Listen ... With faint, dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break free from the trees And fall.
*** fallen leaves-- not a single crow is irksome
— Issa
*** the wind has brought enough to build a fire... fallen leaves
— Issa *** The gods are absent everything is desolate among the fallen leaves
— Basho
***
In the Godless Month I wake at night and listen to what gives voice to a storm on this hillside . . . the sound of falling leaves
- Monk Noin (988-1050) ***
The Consent by Howard Nemerov
Late in November, on a single night Not even near to freezing, the ginkgo trees That stand along the walk drop all their leaves In one consent, and neither to rain nor to wind But as though to time alone: the golden and green Leaves litter the lawn today, that yesterday Had spread aloft their fluttering fans of light.
What signal from the stars? What senses took it in? What in those wooden motives so decided To strike their leaves, to down their leaves, Rebellion or surrender? and if this Can happen thus, what race shall be exempt? What use to learn the lessons taught by time, If a star at any time may tell us: Now. ***
three shadows from persimmons on a stick on the paper door
— Hayu ***
one persimmon droops listlessly... winter rain — Issa
***
on the high branch one astringent persimmon... like old times — Issa ***
Write me down As the one who loved Persimmons
— Shiki
***
Migrating down through northern seas Says the report Time to buy sanma — Toyama no Kanto
*** A gift from the north Grilled sanma
— Chris Mathlos ***
snow crabs ... together to Fukui on a winter trip — Rikei
***
Light by Rabindranath Tagore
Light, my light, the world-filling light, the eye-kissing light, heart-sweetening light!
Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the center of my life; the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love; the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.
The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light. Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light. The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling, and it scatters gems in profusion.
Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling, and gladness without measure. The heaven's river has drowned its banks and the flood of joy is abroad.
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