Yarn, Ho! Here is the Peruvian Highland wool I got for Christmas. I have 14 colors, and am doing a pattern which calls for 14 colors, so now I simply need to match them up. Is Jacaranda equivalent to Blue Mist? Can Allspice stand in for Cinnamon? The yarns called for in the pattern, and this yarn, all were named by some romantic person, though probably not the same one. But one man’s Flamenco may or may not be another man’s Autumn Peach. I guess I can lay them all out together to see what looks best, or use #2 son’s new Christmas set of 105 colored pencils to color in the chart with close matches to Peridot and Wisteria.
I will be doing this match-up in an exceedingly leisured and desultory way today, since it is Boxing Day. A little mild housework, church, and otherwise all we have planned is lolling around playing with our new toys.
Since today is the Feast of Stephen, the song for the day has to be “Good King Wenceslas,” who, you will doubtless recall, “Looked out on the Feast of Stephen.” http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/g/o/goodking.htm
And here is a picture of Saint Wenceslas:
He looks a bit young for the story, so I suppose this must have been an early image. By the time he became King of Bohemia and had the puissance to warm up the ground as he walked, he probably had a beard or something. He overthrew his grandmother’s regency when he was only 18, though, so I may be wrong on that.
Wenceslas was known for his kindness to the poor, and the song about him reminds us that “all who now will bless the poor shall themselves find blessing.”
This tune is a favorite for people who want to make new words. I don’t want to say “parody,” because often they are nothing of the sort. Here is one from Ozarque: http://www.livejournal.com/users/ozarque/58511.html
Here is one from, apparently, the Balefire Coven. I find it rather stupid: we are to believe, it seems, that some deer is out wandering around looking for fuel for its fire, that the King of Bohemia imagines that deer have houses, and that the Page was an Oak God in disguise. These guys ought to make up their own legends.
Here is a political one (general rudeness about George Bush):
and another with more detail:
What is it about this tune that inspires people to make up new words? I don’t know. It could be something about St. Stephen’s Day itself, I suppose. Even here at our house, where we are reasonable about Christmas cheer, we are experiencing headaches (me), tummyaches (#2 son), and a disinclination to get up and go to church (everyone). Here, in an extreme example, are the lyrics to Elvis Costello’s “St. Stephen’s Day Murders”:
I hope you don’t feel that way.