Spring
Recently I've been reading medieval treatises on time reckoning, particularly how to calculate the date of Easter, which used to be a massively complex exercise.
'Summer' and 'winter' are words derived from Old English. 'Autumn', however, is Latinate. And 'spring' ultimately derives from an Old English verb, but it was not the word for the season until the 16th century. The Anglo Saxons called spring 'lencten', from which we derive 'Lent', and 'Easter' came from the name of a pagan goddess. It's funny what sticks, in this mish-mash that is English. 'Hour', 'minute' and 'moment' are all of Latin origin, I suspect because of the Benedictine monasteries that lived by strict hourly schedules. However, 'day', 'week', 'month', 'year', and 'time' itself are Germanic.
There are various medieval allegories of the seasons in which spring is, as might be expected, childhood. Spring is moist and warm, a mixture of fire and air. I think it might also be associated with blood, but I don't remember.
Easter gave so much trouble because the early church wanted to align it with the Hebrew Passover, as this was supposed to be the meal Jesus shared with the disciples at the Last Supper. But the Hebrew calendar is lunar and Passover is celebrated on the day of the full moon in the first month, while the Christian church wanted to fix the day of the Resurrection to a Sunday. So they decided to calculate independent of the Hebrew calendar, and look for the first full moon after the spring equinox. Bede writes that it is fitting that the Resurrection should take place after the equinox as the days begin to lengthen, for the increase in light symbolises Christ's light over the world.
All this makes me a little jealous that here, in the southern hemisphere, we are not going into spring. Our days are shortening. Growing up in the tropics, I never experienced a temperate climate ('temperate' comes from the Latin 'tempora'; the seasons are simply the times) until I lived in England; I never appreciated the beauty of spring until I endured a dreary dark winter. Of course, any change is a rebirth of sorts, and any season a chance for metamorphosis.
You can't wait to observe the full moon if you have to plan ahead. In order for churches across Europe to celebrate Easter and its associated feasts properly the dates had to be reckoned in advance, but the lunar cycle, like the solar cycle, does not complete in a whole number of days. Unlike the solar cycle, reckoning the lunar cycle was more complex than adding an extra day every four years; you had to intercalate extra months in certain years. If you were lucky you could consult an Easter table to find the date in a given year, but every table must run out eventually, and then you must reckon for yourself.
Spring Awakening is not about childhood but adolescence, or the end of childhood, at least. It ends with 'The Song of Purple Summer'. In the allegory of the seasons, summer is adolescence, and adolescence lasts until the age of 28. Living is a bitch but at least the seasons change and you get older -- provided you don't die. I haven't seen a show so raw and rocky since Rent. I had some minor issues with the STC staging and choreo, but I adored the music. I did feel a little old, though, as if I can't relate to all that teenage angst anymore; the same way that a couple of years ago I was listening to Rent and started wondering why Mark and Roger didn't just get real jobs and pay their damn rent. Nonetheless, if we take the medieval definition, I am still in adolescence. The word is Latinate and means to grow up; I am still growing. My spring's not over yet. And besides, I get to reckon time for myself.
Lastly: Hopkins' poem "Spring and Fall".
'Summer' and 'winter' are words derived from Old English. 'Autumn', however, is Latinate. And 'spring' ultimately derives from an Old English verb, but it was not the word for the season until the 16th century. The Anglo Saxons called spring 'lencten', from which we derive 'Lent', and 'Easter' came from the name of a pagan goddess. It's funny what sticks, in this mish-mash that is English. 'Hour', 'minute' and 'moment' are all of Latin origin, I suspect because of the Benedictine monasteries that lived by strict hourly schedules. However, 'day', 'week', 'month', 'year', and 'time' itself are Germanic.
There are various medieval allegories of the seasons in which spring is, as might be expected, childhood. Spring is moist and warm, a mixture of fire and air. I think it might also be associated with blood, but I don't remember.
Easter gave so much trouble because the early church wanted to align it with the Hebrew Passover, as this was supposed to be the meal Jesus shared with the disciples at the Last Supper. But the Hebrew calendar is lunar and Passover is celebrated on the day of the full moon in the first month, while the Christian church wanted to fix the day of the Resurrection to a Sunday. So they decided to calculate independent of the Hebrew calendar, and look for the first full moon after the spring equinox. Bede writes that it is fitting that the Resurrection should take place after the equinox as the days begin to lengthen, for the increase in light symbolises Christ's light over the world.
All this makes me a little jealous that here, in the southern hemisphere, we are not going into spring. Our days are shortening. Growing up in the tropics, I never experienced a temperate climate ('temperate' comes from the Latin 'tempora'; the seasons are simply the times) until I lived in England; I never appreciated the beauty of spring until I endured a dreary dark winter. Of course, any change is a rebirth of sorts, and any season a chance for metamorphosis.
You can't wait to observe the full moon if you have to plan ahead. In order for churches across Europe to celebrate Easter and its associated feasts properly the dates had to be reckoned in advance, but the lunar cycle, like the solar cycle, does not complete in a whole number of days. Unlike the solar cycle, reckoning the lunar cycle was more complex than adding an extra day every four years; you had to intercalate extra months in certain years. If you were lucky you could consult an Easter table to find the date in a given year, but every table must run out eventually, and then you must reckon for yourself.
Spring Awakening is not about childhood but adolescence, or the end of childhood, at least. It ends with 'The Song of Purple Summer'. In the allegory of the seasons, summer is adolescence, and adolescence lasts until the age of 28. Living is a bitch but at least the seasons change and you get older -- provided you don't die. I haven't seen a show so raw and rocky since Rent. I had some minor issues with the STC staging and choreo, but I adored the music. I did feel a little old, though, as if I can't relate to all that teenage angst anymore; the same way that a couple of years ago I was listening to Rent and started wondering why Mark and Roger didn't just get real jobs and pay their damn rent. Nonetheless, if we take the medieval definition, I am still in adolescence. The word is Latinate and means to grow up; I am still growing. My spring's not over yet. And besides, I get to reckon time for myself.
Lastly: Hopkins' poem "Spring and Fall".