Christmas: Phipps Candlelight Evening

Better Half and I visited Phipps this evening and enjoyed the Candlelight Evening and Winter Flower Show.



With seasonal blooms, twinkling lights, aromatic greens, and other adornments, our 1893 Victorian glasshouse has been transformed into a winter wonderland complete with whimsical scenes where the Sugar Plum Fairy, toy soldiers and princely nutcrackers enchant visitors of every age.

Upon entering the Conservatory, you will be dazzled by elegant swags with brightly-colored bows and festive arrangements, while “Polar Bear” poinsettias, “Merry Christmas” amaryllis and “Glacier” ivy deck the halls as you ascend to Palm Court – a magical place where chandeliers, a grandfather clock and portrait frames made almost entirely of plants will be featured in a lavish mansion scene.

It was as beautiful as promised, from the outside and all through within. We’ve never been to the conservatory in the evening and it was a delightful thrill seeing things “anew” under evening’s cloak.



Koch High School’s string quartet greeted us in the Palm Court. They were grouped in front of the first of many spectacular trees.



The Serpentine Room was a world’s tour of themed trees, each touching upon a country. We especially loved the Russian, Asian and Spanish Dance trees.





The Fern Room and Orchid Room are absolutely glorious at night.





We love the “butterfly room”, but this isn’t the time of year for them. The Stove Room was, instead, a wandering journey over candlelit paths and past tinkling water.





The trains were set up in the South Conservatory. We watched them working on these displayers early last fall. Children (and Better Half) were delighted by the moving trains and miniature villages.






They didn’t do very much to the Tropical Forest Conservatory (thank goodness). The plants were illuminated by small rustic lights, and each waterway or fall became a living creature rushing past in the twilight lurking just off the trail.






Santa was not in the Gallery this evening but there was plenty of evidence that he enjoyed visiting. A beautiful sleigh was nestled between more lively trees, watched over by a trio of bears.



Thoughtful volunteers tended to every facet of the building, adding holiday cheer to each nook, corner and wall. Clever nutcrackers, Rat Kings, trees made entirely of vermilions enticed the eyes to investigate everything closer.








Even the Sunken Room, normally filled with water and straight lines, became a whimsical playplace.



The Desert Room did not disappoint.





And the Victoria Room contained a massive tree with brilliant lights that twinkled in the reflective water surrounding it.



The Paterre de Broderie was tastefully done, although it still grieves me that I can’t see the exquisite details on the statues at the very rear of the garden.



One of the most playful rooms, the East Room, was a Land of Sweets delight. A massive gingerbread house stole the show, standing several feet high and festooned with fresh fruits.


I’m very glad that we went. It helped to lift some of my depression, and made for a charming change of pace.



Some odds and ends from along the way...






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Regarding Social Network Sites, Holidays and Small-mindedness

My Facebook Friends come from all over the world, brightening my life daily. Some of their friends have left some fairly harsh comments, however.

A ham-fisted approach is reserved for certain topics. People offer their opinions as tactfully as Frankenstein’s monster swinging a bloated corpse at cobwebs; sooner or later the cadaver’s distended belly will strike something solid and splatter putrescence all over the screen.

I ducked some fairly rank ichor the other morning regarding the use of “Happy Holidays” in place of “Merry Christmas”.

There was an unassuming pile of squelchy poo lurking near a holiday trees posting. All seemed safe until I made the mistake of looking at ALL the comments and beheld Golgothan.



What follows are my observations. They are entirely my personal opinion. I do not expect anyone to agree with me. In fact, I am human enough to understand that my own cynical view is offensive to some people.

Wasn’t that easy?

Regarding views expressed on Social Networking Sites


Free Speech and Christianity:
I draw the line at mockery of a person’s religion. Why do some people feel it is socially (and psychologically) acceptable to shit upon another person's heart-treasure?

No one is telling you, me or anyone to believe in the Christian God. We should agree with the belief or else we should disagree with it, accept that we do not believe in it, accept that the other person deeply believes, and then move on. Any negative reaction (such as posts referring to a sacred deity as “stupid Sky Fairy”) will depict the writer as trifling and their emotional state as puerile.

By the way, I don’t approve of “Zombie Jesus” references at Eastertide. The quickest way to be booted from my circle is to post something so insensitive. You aren’t clever or witty. I have difficulty making the distinction between that vulgarity and the filth promoted by Westboro Baptist (“God hates soldiers” fame).

It is my belief that people who use phrases such as “zombie Jesus” or “sky fairy” do so because they do not realize how offense such phrases are or they do so because they understand the offensive nature of the phrases but find humor in them. Some even use them in an attempt to shock or punish those who hold the belief. (Any theories on this?) It is also my belief that people who use these sorts of phrases when describing a sacred thing are nothing more than bigots or bullies.

Merry Christmas or Else:
“Merry” is O.E. myrige, meaning “pleasing”, stemming from P.Gmc murgijaz, which is believed to have means “short lived”. It was used more extensively in M.E., somewhat embraced as a fad. Someone who is merry-begot is an illegitimate child (“bastard”) created after a merry-bout (tryst outside of marriage). To wish someone a merry anything, one must accept that they are wishing that person a brief yet agreeable or pleasant thing. I’ve always found it odd to wish someone a briefly satisfying holy day.

“Happy”, when alluding to events, is “turning out well” and first used as such in the late 14c. “Happy Hunting” (as one of my dear friends is fond of saying) is nothing more than “May your hunt turn out well”. Likewise, wishing someone Happy Christmas/Holidays is wishing that someone’s Christmas/Holidays turn out well.

The etymology of “holiday”, stems from the 1500s, earlier than haliday (c.1200), from Old English halidæg “holy day; Sabbath,” from halig “holy” + dæg “day”; in 14c meaning both “religious festival” and “day of recreation,” but pronunciation and sense diverged 16c. (etymologyonline.com)

Christmas, of course, stems from O.E. Christes mæsse (Christ’s mass) and is a nod towards Catholicism with “mass” (V.L. missa or “eucharistic service”.)

Christmastide (circa 1620s) was meant to be the period of holy days between Dec 25 and Jan 6 (Catholic Feast of the Nativity). “Blessed Christmastide, ye gentlemen”.

Yule is from a far older Norse word. "O.E. geol, geola "Christmas Day, Christmastide," from O.N. jol (pl.), a heathen feast, later taken over by Christianity, of unknown origin. The O.E. (Anglian) cognate giuli was the Anglo-Saxons' name for a two-month midwinter season corresponding to Roman December and January, a time of important feasts but not itself a festival. After conversion to Christianity it narrowed to mean "the 12-day feast of the Nativity" (which began Dec. 25), but was replaced by Christmas by 11c., except in the northeast (areas of Danish settlement), where it remained the usual word. Revived 19c. by writers to mean "the Christmas of 'Merrie England.' " First direct reference to the Yule log is 17c. O.N. jol seems to have been borrowed in O.Fr. as jolif, hence Mod.Fr. joli "pretty, nice," originally "festive"." (etymologyonline.com)

X-Mas takes Christ out of Christmas:
Xmas is circa 1551, "from X’temmas, wherein the X is an abbreviation for Christ in Christmas, from first letter of Gk. Christos "Christ" (see Christ). The earlier way to abbreviate it was Xp- or Xr-, corresponding to "Chr-," and the form Xres mæsse for "Christmas" appears in the "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle" (c.1100)." (etymologyonline.com)

Outspoken Atheists:
Every year, my atheist ex would walk out his front door on a fair-weather Saturday, gaze around at the other men untangling lights or hauling plastic Santa Claus decorations from their garages, and he'd good-humoredly shout "PEWF!" while waving his arms wildly at his own house. His lack of decorations reflected his contentment to keep Dec 25 as a day set aside for sleeping in. He was not an Outspoken Atheist. He was simply an atheist.

There isn’t anything wrong with not celebrating the season. I do think it’s crass to use the “spiritual holiday time” as an excuse to tell Sally Housewife or John Q Public that personal belief in the “sky fairy” is stupid.



The American Atheists had billboard campaigns for the purpose of waging “a war on intolerance and ignorance” (according to the AA website). I find it hard to believe that a group which proclaims itself as authoritative on Reason would so completely fail to recognize that their billboards smack of intolerance of religious beliefs and ignorance of the multi-cultural aspect of our nation.

But it is my RIGHT!
There is such a thing as being so open-minded that the brain leaks out. I don’t believe in political correctness but I do advocate tempering beliefs with a salubrious dollop of appropriate etiquette.

Human rights should never cease to be egalitarian. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights exists for a reason. Perhaps people confuse Freedom of Speech (Article 19 ) with Freedom of Thought, Conscience and Freedom of Religion (Article 18)?

It is good and proper that people be given the right to express themselves but that expression should not reach the point where their intolerant spirit conflicts with the right of another to hold dear his own beliefs. One can freely express their beliefs if time is taken to do so logically (and conscientiously!)

Consider the following examples:
“I don’t believe in God so I don’t celebrate Easter.” vs “Zombie Jebus is going to visit the Christians and shit chocolate eggs for them.”

“My religious beliefs, in accordance with Holy Scripture, are that marriage is between one man and one woman.” vs “God hates fags.”

“Sharia law confuses me. Why are the women required to wear that covering?” vs “Stupid raghead men keep women in oppression.”

Life is not Twitter; no one wants to hear our every utterance or ephemeral thought. Facebook is more “In Your FACE!” We set ourselves up as gods and then grow irritated when our disgruntled audience declines to bow to our mortality, and more irate when they dare to assert their own godhood via unaccommodating comments on our post!

In other words, “we ain’t all that and a bag of chips”.
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Halloween 2011



Happy Halloween!

Better Half and I spent the evening watching television and handing out candy. When did we turn into our parents?



I keep some traditions from my childhood. Pumpkins should be gored and then mutilated into bread while their seeds toast in a hot oven. The bread came out of a box this year (boo hiss, flavorless) but I had fun with the carving.

We had a good turn-out of costumed candy fiends despite the rain and cold.

Some of the dogs were banished to the kitchen where they were less apt to annoy us with barking; Don't pity them. Both are evil. I don't know how to break them of their barking habit. It is obnoxious and they do it for no reason.

Better Half and Nutmeg manned the door. She was very well-behaved and stood by patiently while Better Half dropped candy into plastic bags and pillow cases. (A trick-or-treater asked Better Half what his costume was. He responded, "a stay at home dad". Fitting, considering he was wearing manky pajama bottoms and an ugly shirt. It would have been better if he said "crazy old veteran" but the kiddies wouldn't understand the joke.)


We ran out of candy and closed up shop at 8 PM. Better Half has promised to mail Mum's package tomorrow (and then cook smelts for me!)

It's 3:30 AM and I'm having a deja vu moment like none other, replete with the War of the Worlds radio broadcast that I listen to every year. I have no idea why the human brain experiences these but I will swear that I lived this moment before, perhaps in the fading tendrils of a departing dream. Meh. It lasted less than a minute but was vivid. Nifty.

Where was I?

Sammy crashed out most of the evening. (I was going in a different direction but the moment unnerved me. Am I asleep? Do I have brain cancer? What causes this ethereal weirdness and is it actually important that it be acknowledged? What if I don't mentally chant "deja vu, deja vu, deja vu" the next time it happens? Will the horrid things that are supposed to follow actually follow? Is the premonition nothing more than an anomaly of memory?)

Truth be told, there are some days where brain farts make better sense than the real world. There are also days where I wish I could pile all the couch pillows over my head and glare at passersby.


(Nobody does the glare as well as Zombie Zephyr.)
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Happy Easter!


Happy Easter!


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Eastertide 2011: Holy Saturday

In the quietude of Holy Saturday, shortly before midnight, I find myself standing on my back deck and looking out into the twinkling lights of houses and roads. The celebrated agony of last week is over, both physical and mental. Soon the sun will crest the horizon, church bells will peal and the Good News will be spread.


My upbringing gave me an appreciation for solemn things. Raised Catholic, I kept the entirety of the Paschal season, including the full forty days of Lent. I was taught to reflect upon the events; I believe that I became a more empathic (sympathetic) person for it.

Good Friday, the Veneration of the Cross, marked the intense end of a whirlwind Jerusalem Tour. “They are killing him today,” I would think when I was smaller, and I would spend the day in quiet bereavement.

Holy Saturday. This was the one day of the year that brought me the greatest wretchedness as a child. Reared in a theatre family, I always thought of Holy Saturday as the day God went Dark. It was the one day of the year that God wasn’t turning His face to look at man, according to my child’s mind. It saddened me, especially if it rained on that day.

I can distinctly recollect crawling into bed after a very long Easter vigil. I was still at St. Rose, and probably no older than seven. The moon shone through my bedroom window and I turned my eyes toward the heavens (because everyone knows that is where God lives) and I felt a profound sense of loss. If I was this sad, then surely God was “upstairs” crying over the death, too. So, in true innocent form, I offered God my best sympathies for the death of Jesus.

“It’s okay, God. You come back again tomorrow. Don’t cry.”

I began attending sunrise services in my late teens. It seemed fitting. Mary headed down the darkened roads on her way to tend to Christ’s body. In the early morning light, while all the world was just starting to get busy, Mary came upon what she thought to be a gardener near the tomb. The story is well known. I needn’t repeat it here.

Easter Sunday is bitter-sweet to me. Yes, “Jesus rose”, and all of Christendom rejoices… for a day, perhaps even two. Then it seems as if everyone goes back to their lives. Disaster averted. Panic over. Been there, done that. Christ walked the earth forty days after the resurrection. The New Testament records chronicle a few key events and end with his Ascension into Heaven. And then that’s that.

Eastertide, like Christmastide, becomes a memory shortly after it is celebrated. The children and grandchildren have binged through their sugary hoards. The adults have put away their Easter outfits and put on their grindstone mantle. People tuck away all the “Easter bible stories” much as they stash the plastic decorations and gaily-colored baskets in the attic. They may glance upon them during the rest of the year, if they happen to be in that part of the attic.

Christians seem to have lost sight of the Passion of Christ (and I don’t mean the movie, although I do get a chuckle when I recall how horrorstruck many Protestants were over the “gruesomeness” depicted therein. Goodness, did they honestly believe that the death was no harsher than an Easter parade on a balmy afternoon?)

I was in a debate recently and my (apparently unarmed) opponent was a self-declared “OSASBABBTC” (translated: Once Saved, Always Saved Born Again, Bible-Believing True Christian). We were discussing the importance of the Last Supper and the symbolic act of communion.

He used the advantage to rant about “pagan papal Catholic demonists speaking demonic Latin” and his ire grew to epic proportions when I softly pointed out that Jesus Himself stated, “As often as you do these things, do them in memory of me”. His response to me was, “YOU don’t know Jesus!”

I wonder if he knows Jesus. I don’t mean the “made in our image God suit” that many people use to form God in their minds. I certainly don’t mean the parroted words typed in red font found in every bible. Nor do I mean Paul’s teachings to the early churches.

Does this man really know Christ and all that He endured? Has he ever taken time out of his hectic “born again” life to contemplate Jesus? Does he feel the pregnant and heavy weight of Holy Saturday bearing down upon him tonight?

I certainly do not place myself as being higher in the Salvation Station than my debate opponent. I’m not. I don’t spout bible verses. I don’t wear a cross or crucifix. I avoid labels such as “born again” and “true”, and refuse to identify with any single denomination. I seldom attend church services. I’m quiet in what I believe and in how I believe, and there are days where I wonder if what I believe is actually to be believed or not.

God will probably take one look at my sorry carcass and punt me straight into hell. Still, I’m the one standing on my deck and reassuring God (and myself) that he’ll be back tomorrow. It’s a weird relationship between Father and prodigal child.



I keep Eastertide in my heart, and heed every dreadful and every miraculous moment of it. And so I find myself once again contemplating Holy Saturday, and the promise of Easter Sunday. May each of my friends and their families experience the peace and hope of the season.

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The photographs are from a meandering road in West Virginia. I took them Saturday afternoon as we were coming back from our friends' home.
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Happy New Year: 2011

A new year has arrived. Like the majority of people, I’m keeping my fingers crossed; 2011 is the hope of a brighter future.

Of course, man, in his infinite folly, must always seek a means to prophesy his future.



THE YEAR OF THE RABBIT, 2011
02/03/2011 - 01/22/2012 (Metal)

According to the Chinese Zodiac, the Year of 2011 is the Year of the Rabbit, which begins on February 3, 2011 and ends on January 22, 2012. The Rabbit is the fourth sign of the Chinese Zodiac, which consists of 12 animals’ signs. The Rabbit is a lucky sign. Rabbits are private individuals and a bit introverted. People born in the Year of the Rabbit are reasonably friendly individuals who enjoy the company of a group of good friends. They are good teachers, counselors and communicators, but also need their own space.

According to Chinese tradition, the Rabbit brings a year in which you can catch your breath and calm your nerves. It is a time for negotiation. Don't try to force issues, because if you do you will ultimately fail. To gain the greatest benefits from this time, focus on home, family, security, diplomacy, and your relationships with women and children. Make it a goal to create a safe, peaceful lifestyle, so you will be able to calmly deal with any problem that may arise.

(Spring Liao, 10/15/2007)

2012 will bring its own adventure: 23 January 2012 – 9 February 2013: Year of the Dragon.


According to the Mayan calendar, we have exactly one year, eleven months and twenty days until the end of the world (oh my!) 12/21/12. The end. Fin. No more. The Winter Solstice spells certain doom.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to buy into the Mayan End of the World hype. Sure, it sounds invigorating – tectonic plates shifting, limousines packed with dysfunctional families hurtling through rapidly crumbling Los Angeles landmarks, satellites in a rapidly decaying orbit aligning themselves in a star-shaped pattern reminiscent of some ancient cabal ritual - stimulating but it just doesn’t have enough meat to attract my attention for long.

At least I won’t have to send out Christmas cards that year.

Man is infatuated with his own demise. Our collective mantra is, “The time is coming”, a phrase that transcends oceans and cultures. “Soon It will be upon us”...

Judgment Day


No, not that Judgment Day.

The Time of Reckoning, by God! (My but there are a lot of Capitalized Letters today.)

“Christ will come on Saturday May 21, 2011; ...this is Judgment Day, according to Scripture.” The End of the World is 21 October, according to several bizarre Christian web sites. You can read more here.
Please note: I am not saying that the Christians and Mayans are in need of intensive therapy. Some  of them, however, would benefit from copious injections of their favorite tranquilizer or perhaps some Jim Jones pseudo-grape Flavor Aid fresh from the jungle.

The End Times are not upon us. It is rather narcissistic for us to think that we are essential to the flow of Time itself; Time will continue even if our species winks out of existence. The cosmos doesn’t care. It is safer to say “The End of the Age of Man” and turn to whatever spiritual beliefs you follow (if you actually buy into the May 21/Dec 21 scenarios).

If you are a staunch Christian “End Times” believer, I urge you to read Mark 13 (the entire  passage, please. You know how I hate verse plucking) and then pay close attention to Mark 13v32.

The rest of us will enjoy a new year filled with promise, the hope of prosperity, and good will.






My scientific side: On Entropy, the Arrow of time, and ...
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