Daisies

No, the flowers of that name are not yet blooming, but soon.  An agreement between our next door neighbour and us leaves a strip of grass between our houses uncut until the daisies bloom.  They get about 18" high and make a beautiful little forest of flowers.  Once they go to seed the grass gets cut and that part of the yard goes back to being normal grass.  And as I discovered while reading a recent novel by John Christopher, where the phrase "fresh as a daisy" came up, that the original name for the flower was Days Eye.  They bloomed at sunup and slept the night, therefore giving meaning and origin to the popular phrase.  Just one of the many things one learns by reading science fiction.

Yesterday was a holiday Monday in Canada, as we joyously celebrate the birthday of Queen Victoria.  No, I didn't make that up.  Since long weekends don't matter much to retirees, especially ones under stay at home orders, we usually don't pay much attention.  But this year we took a day off, listening to music, gaming, and even baking cookies.  Really really good cookies.  Too good, I'm afraid.  This almond cookie recipe is now attached via magnet to our fridge for easy reference.

Tonight at 5 pm I am looking forward to a Facebook chat with Amanda.  I've heard nothing from her since we saw her at Christmas, other than the notice she posted of her father's death last month.  We'll soon know how her funky end of Toronto has been doing during this mess.

In movie news, my choice for last week was Variety, a 1925 film starring Emil Jannings, literally bug-eyed with jealousy.  Now, if you were a handsome male trapeze artist working with a husband and wife team, and you depended on the husband to catch you many times during every show, would you seduce his wife in secret and hope the husband never found out?  NO, I wouldn't mess around with her, either.  But one man does.  A very suspenseful film, filled with unique camera work and some crazy trapeze acts.  Criterion is showing a recently restored, flawless print.

 The restored version is showing on Criterion. 

Deb's choice was called Good Morning, a colour feature from 1959 directed by Yasujiro Ozu.  It's a light comedy about two young brothers who stop talking, to protest adults who talk for nothing, and to try and gain a TV for the household.  There are also endless fart jokes.  Aside from that aspect, this is a very fun and watchable movie, especially if Japanese home life seems like watching science fiction to you.  Small, impeccable sets, wonderful linear camera work, and many sly pokes at Japanese domestic life and getting on with very nearby neighbours makes this one a keeper.  The youngest boy really makes the picture special, however, with his cherubic chubbiness and emerging sunny personality.

 Good Morning, showing on Criterion in a beautiful print.

 Masahiko Shimazu adds much to the film's comedy.  Here he asks permission from his teacher to talk, using a sign language only he and his older brother know. 

It was supposed to rain all day Sunday, but we only had a brief shower.  It was supposed to rain all day Monday, but we only had a brief shower.  But it came down late Monday night, and we had 1.1" of rain in the gauge this morning.  There are some impressive amounts of water in our creek, and many areas of our county are either flooded today or under a watch.  Things are looking rather green out there, and soggy.

We continue to be baffled and greatly amused by the latest PC game we are playing together, called Kentucky Route 0.  We are currently in Part 3 of 5,and are sitting in a small theatre watching two plays performed simultaneously.  Weirdly beautiful, after our trip through the forest to find a doctor.  We flew on Julian, a giant eagle.   There are few real puzzles, as the game is based around exploring and conversations.

 2 screenshots from the magical PC game called Kentucky Route 0. 

Turning to the world of art, we will now examine a landscape painting that uses no lines, only dots.  Seurat used the science of how our eyes see colour to create his static view of life and nature.  In his Detroit canvas, he even includes the frame as part of his experiment.  This painting travels often, and seems to garner rave reviews wherever it goes.  It leaves me a bit cold, but it is true to itself and what it is trying to achieve.  I used to be fascinated as a child looking at comic books with a magnifying glass, and realizing that the entire comic art was made up on nothing but tiny dots, of very strange colours.  With Seurat we do not need the magnifying glass, but rather just to step back from it a bit.

View of Le Crotoy from Upstream, 1889.  George Seurat, 1859-1891.  Oil on canvas, 39" x 49" framed.  Collection Detroit Institute of Arts.

 Unframed view.

 Detail of the village.

 Detail of the church. 

It's my choice for a film tonight, and I have yet to choose.  Check back later for the exciting details.

Mapman Mike