Onion Sauce!

Still Life with Onions, 1889
Vincent van Gogh, 1853 – 1890

If you need a startling insult, how about the expression hurled by "the impatient and contemptuous Mole, who trotted along the side of the hedge chaffing [teasing] the other rabbits as they peeped hurriedly from their holes to see what the row was about. "Onion-sauce! Onion-sauce!" he remarked jeeringly, and was gone before they could think of a thoroughly satisfactory reply. Then they all started grumbling at each other. "How stupid you are! Why didn’t you tell him—" "Well, why didn’t you say—" “You might have reminded him—" and so on, in the usual way; but, of course, it was then much too late, as is always the case.

from The Wind in the Willows (8 - 9, emphasis added)
by Kenneth Grahame
illustrated by Arthur Rackham

Mole's taunt implies either that the rabbits are country bumpkins or that, if they are not careful, they are likely to be caught and eaten with a side of onion sauce. Either way, it'a good dismissive remark to have in your repertoire. Onion sauce!

The rabbits' response -- or lack thereof -- is similar to John Steinbeck's experience of being detained at the American - Canadian border and having to endure a pile of hassle. He doesn't sass back, but later . . .

"Before I went to sleep I went over all the things I wished I had
said . . . and some of them were incredibly clever and cutting"

from Travels With Charley (69)

[cf. L'esprit de l'escalier]

Tears & Crying

“Life is like an onion; you peel it off one layer at a time, 
and sometimes you weep.” ― Carl Sandburg 

Facebook & Fortnightly
More Van Gogh: FN ~ KL ~ QK

Mid - August Sadness

Grasshopper (Sprinkhaan) 1918
Anna Julia "Julie" de Graag (1877–1924)
Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

A phase of August sadness -- what Emily Dickinson calls "further in summer" -- is now upon us: too late to say midsummer, too early to say late summer. Birdsong has given way to insect chorus, and beneath our feet, somewhere in the grass, an entire, nearly invisible civilization is celebrating the seasonal change. The crickets have their own ceremonial customs and canticles, unobtrusive, gradual, gentle. No obstrusive ordinances required, only the ancient -- or as Dickinson puts it, "antiquest" -- enhancement of Nature.

But what about that "Enlarging Loneliness"? Surely the lament of summer's impending end is experienced not only (if at all) by the insects; but more likely as a pathetic fallacy within our human hearts. Our existential sadness is mitigated only by "Druidic Difference," a sense that our ancient globe is rounding toward autumn, inevitably as ever.

Indeed, in another week or so,
August will be "burning low":

Further in Summer than the Birds –
Pathetic from the Grass –
A minor Nation celebrates
Its unobtrusive Mass.

No Ordinance be seen –
So gradual the Grace
A gentle Custom it becomes –
Enlarging Loneliness –

Antiquest felt at Noon –
When August burning low
this spectral Canticle
Repose to typify –

Remit as yet no Grace –
No furrow on the Glow,
But a Druidic Difference
Enhances Nature now –

Artist: Janie Olsen

Again, assisted by insects -- flies & bees --
Dickinson captures our autumnal anguish:

If you were coming in the Fall
I'd brush the Summer by
With half a smile, and half a spurn
As Housewives do, a Fly

If I could see you in a year
I'd wind the months in balls
And put them each in separate Drawers
For fear the numbers fuse

If only Centuries, delayed
I'd count them on my hand
Subtracting, til my fingers dropped
Into Van Dieman's Land

If certain, when this life was out
That yours and mine, should be
I'd toss it yonder, like a Rind
And take Eternity

But, now, uncertain of the length
Of this, that is between
It goads me, like the Goblin Bee
That will not state its sting

~Both poems by Emily Dickinson (KL ~ FN ~ QK)

Artist: Katrina Sesum

Are not these owls superb
portrayls of Druidic Difference?
Click here for more superb owls!

Sara Teasdale: Stars Forever

Happy Birthday
to Missouri Poet Sara Teasdale
(born in St. Louis, August 8, 1884 - died January 29, 1933):

"There will be stars forever; while we sleep."

Photo credit: Man Of La Book: A Bookish Blog

Sarah Trevor Teasdale
[Christened Sarah Trevor Teasdale,
but later dropped the final "h"]

I would have stood on your hot
Missouri porch for hours,
holding my bouquet of flowers
to show you that my thirst
for your affection was preferable
to suitors Lindsay and Ernst.

Although the bright Missouri sun
would the flowers wilt, I will stay
Till you kissed me away.
A puff across your hand,
direct to me, to show you understand,
or is your sweet breath to send
my fate into the winds.

by Robert Manchester (1943 - 2022)
Read more at Your Daily Poem & "Colors of Summer"

Collected Poems

More poetry by Teasdale on FN & QK
And on THEINKBRAIN: Teasdale Poetry Blog

Summer Castles

Psalm Concerning The Castle

Let me be at the place of the castle.
Let the castle be within me.
Let it rise foursquare from the moat's ring.
Let the moat's waters reflect green plumage of ducks,
let the shells of swimming turtles break the surface
or be seen through the rippling depths.

Let horsemen be stationed at the rim of it,
and a dog, always alert on the brink of sleep.
Let the space under the first storey be dark,
let the water lap the stone posts,
and vivid green slime glimmer upon them;
let a boat be kept there.

Let the caryatids of the second storey
be bears upheld on beams that are dragons.
On the parapet of the central room,
let there be four archers,
looking off to the four horizons.
Within, let the prince be at home,
let him sit in deep thought, at peace,
all the windows open to the loggias.

Let the young queen sit above, in the cool air,
her child in her arms;
let her look with joy at the great circle,
the pilgrim shadows,
the work of the sun and the play of wind.

Let her walk to and fro.
Let the columns uphold the roof,
let the storeys uphold the columns,
let there be dark space below the lowest floor,
let the castle rise foursquare out of the moat,
let the moat be a ring and the water deep,
let the guardians guard it,
let there be wide lands around it,
let that country where it stands be within me,
let me be where it is.

Denise Levertov (1923 – 1997)
More on QK & FN

The Olana House Museum
Home of Artist Frederic Church (1826 – 1900)
Hudson River Valley

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

Edward Hopper (1882 - 1967)
at the Pavillon de Flore, Paris

Le Pavillon de Flore
Summery View ~ 1909
More info

Le Pont Royal
Wintry View ~ 1909
More info

Dive In!

. . . continued

Judge ~ July 1934

Magazine Covers
by John Holmgren (1897-1963)

Judge ~ July 1936

"First the air is blue and then
it is bluer and then green and then
black I am blacking out and yet
my mask is powerful
it pumps my blood with power
the sea is another story
the sea is not a question of power
I have to learn alone
to turn my body without force
in the deep element. . . ."

from "Diving Into the Wreck"
by Adrienne Rich (1929 - 2012)

Springboard (2015)
by Charlotte Evans (b 1981)

I especially like Springboard because
it reminds me of this long-time favorite:

Romantic Enters World
by Richard Stine

Additional Connections

"The Swimming Pool"

"The Summer You Learned to Swim"
by Michael Simms

The "Lost Lagoon" Challenge

Swimming Pool"
by James Arthur [not struck by lightning]