This picture/photograph wall is located above my desk in my bedroom. It is a continually changing assortment of special people, things, and memories. It makes me happy to look at it everyday. I’m missing a few people because of them being camera shy or far away but I’m determined to hunt them down eventually.

Farmers in Uproar on Cow Tax Issue

Leave it to a farmer to outsmart all the politicians. Instead of coming up with yet another tax, and I’m sure he was hoping to avoid the “cow tax” that is supposed to tax cow emissions/manure (or to be blunt, cow farts), this farmer went to work using his noggin’

Here is a photo of his invention. Let’s hope he can patent it so us farmers don’t get stuck with a cow tax.

Farmer's Solution to Cow Tax & Greenhouse Gas Issue

 MEMOIRS (Abridged) Includes articles and essays on various topics in SCIENCE, GEOGRAPHY, PHILOSOPHY, STATECRAFT etc. in addition to Travel notes.  Price Rs. 1oo, postage extra.  

                                                                                          By K.K.Subramanian

Waterfriend remembers his childhood

 Kunnathur Mana

My mother was born in a very illustrious family Kunnathur Padinjaredath.You can see the ancestral house near the Peruvanam temple south gopuram (gate)

I have vague memories of sitting upstairs; looking at the road. I must be four at that time.

The family came there in search of livelihood and became the tantry (main priest-they still are) of the temple. I can imagine mother (kali was her name-a goddess) walking towards the temple, holding the hands of the maid servant, almost naked, with only a plantain leaf strip to cover nakedness, not knowing what fate awaited her…tears swell in my eyes, even as I write these lines

She was married off at the tender age of thirteen or so to Subrahmanian Nambudiripad, aged forty plus, already having two wives, one living and the next one and her son still fresh in memory, and a daughter of mother’s age whom her brother married the same day, probably. Mother was dark, uncouth and short; my step sister was fair, lean and very handsome whom mother hated heartily!

I do not remember any one caring for her,  except her younger sister and some cousins. Uncle (eldest) never talked to her or even to her children (in all six, two died early). She had a sharp tongue and was outspoken but had a heart of gold. She was very lazy and father was the laziest!

I digressed…

Around 150 years ago, mother’s ancestor was married to the sister of the king of erstwhile Cochin State who was known as Shaktan Thampuran. He bestowed on the Kunnathur family tax free land. The family became rich.

Maternal grandfather was very intelligent, so too was my uncle. At that time a rich local Nambudiri of Chittoor mana established a school, where we all studied, and uncle was the first student, duly initiated before a lighted lamp etc. Of course the student was without a shirt! I had a few classmates, topless, in primary school. Grandmother was wise, cultured and well versed in puranas (old legends of Hindu religion).When she got angry and shouted like a lioness, her husband shivered like a mouse! She did like my mother, always told me to look after her well but did nothing when she needed assistance. In fact no one accompanied her when she left the house built by father, and we were travelling in a country boat, through the swollen river. Being a fool, I enjoyed the trip!…

Earliest memories centre around a small village Thalore, near Trichur. I was about four. Mother had given birth to a dead baby and so she continued to feed me. I just came in from the spacious orchard where I was playing, lay down in my mother’s lap and started sucking her big breast. (In those days our women folk did not wear blouse.) “Ma, who put sugar in your milk?” -I asked. She just pushed me off and that was the end breast feeding !

I had a playmate Bhagi about eight years or so . She was attached to our maid servant Madhavi. I always thought she was her daughter.

 One day the girl was mopping the kitchen floor. I said something .She didn’t listen and I gave a blow on her back with an iron ladle. The poor girl cried out aloud inviting the attention of mother and paternal grand mother I felt guilty and wretched. Perhaps that was the only time I used violence against any living creature…..

With just a piece of cloth tied like lady’s bikini, I used to accompany Madhavi to the grocery shop owned by a Tamil Brahmin .He would give a piece of jaggery. We never got chocolates in those days.

Father and mother slept in the upstairs bed room. I slept with them. Mother used to tell stories. Elder brother used to sleep with grandmother. He was her favourite. Paternal uncle Krishnaphan was an occasional visitor. We loved him, as he was a good storyteller. About Lilliputs we heard from him. He was dark and fat unlike another p. uncle Vasudevaphan who was slim and fair, the first person to go to school from K.K. family. He was teacher and a close friend of E.M.S. Namboodiripad.

One day an old lady came, covered up to the neck in pure white dhoti (in north India only a widow will dress in white) Do you know her? –they asked. When I blinked, they all laughed . I felt ashamed. It was mother’s ma. As a girl, she was born and brought up in the same house where we were staying temporarily-the great Veembur Kadalayil Mana (which was lying vacant at the time. Mahatma Gandhi visited the house in 1929). Father who was a good architect and astrologer was making our house near the river, about four miles away. One day brother and I accompanied him to see the construction work. My legs were paining like hell. I earned the reputation of having walked four miles when four years old.    

 At that time , another paternal uncle, Parameswaran by name, took me with him to fort Tripunithura where royal family members lived. By custom, only a nambudiri may marry a princess. And, in a nambudiri family only the eldest can marry; others may have legitimate relationship with women of other upper castes, the latter not entitled for a share of nambudiri property. They are not allowed to share meals with us.(My grandfather’s younger brother’s daughter was my schoolmate .I never knew about the blood relationship, though I somehow liked her. Of course I was too shy to talk to her! )

That is how uncle married a real princess and lived in Palace no.11. I was too small to notice the clean bed, the sumptuous food (at home we had it only on birthdays or during Onam) The great festival was going on at the Poornathrayeesha (Krishna) temple and there were any number of elephants (I wanted to become a mahout-I am never tired of watching these majestic animals)

An elephant was being fed. Uncle asked me-do you want to mount it . I shook my head. The mahout lifted me and handed over to his colleague sitting on the elephant. He placed me on its neck. I felt uncomfortable, its hair pricking my naked bottom and I being lifted up and down by the motion of its head while eating; still I enjoyed it .

One day we were taken to Akavoormana near river Periyar. We enjoyed playing in the shallow swift flowing water. I lay down in the water and was carried away some distance. Flapping my arms I managed to remain floating. Thus I learnt the rudiments of swimming. I do not know how to swim really. Like cattle only my head remains above water.

There were two young elephants there. As a baby Ramankutty used to roam about in the house and snatch things from the kitchen. Even now I like to have a baby elephant ….

Vasudevan uncle (the youngest among five brothers, father being the eldest) was working as teacher in Namboori Vidyalaya at Trichur. I would look with admiration  the fat books in his shelf. One day when I grow up I shall read them!

Savithri was born. I refused to see the baby. I wanted a brother. This dislike of girls remained for a long time to come.

When Vas uncle brought a wife I was too shy to meet her. Afterwards the words “cheriamme “automatically escaped from my mouth and all exclaimed “today it will rain” 

   Recently, during morning walk I reached the church and, turning right, easily located the arch, proclaiming entry towards the Shiv temple. I went through it and turned right. A little further, I had hardly turned left when I could easily spot the old gate as it was in 1937! It was something like a flashback in TV screen! The front yard was very small. (in my mind it was very big.)The main building was intact, though concretised. I saw mother’s bedroom upstairs where I slept. Through the left side I traced a few steps and saw the workplace where women husked rice .It was locked. I could easily see the rope swing and Bhagi and I playing there. The reddish brown cow must be somewhere nearby. Bhagi showed me how to pick silky smooth, egg shaped thing (she called it pattunni) from the cow’s skin. She would place it on a stone and crush it with another stone spilling blood. Ma must be in the kitchen. The great surprise was when I turned to the east courtyard and looked to the flight of steps leading to the orchard. I was expecting at least thirty steps. I could count hardly four! To the child everything appears on a mega screen. To the grown up, it is all on TV screen. The surroundings had been cut into plots and sold. There are flats now. But the main structure is unoccupied till now.

Originally, it belonged to Moothedath Kadalayil which was merged with Veembur Kadalayil. On shifting to Pazhai, the house was sold to Akavoor Mana, my paternal grand mother’s maiden house (illam). We were just living there. The Akavoor namboodiri even suggested,” sister, why don’t you live here, why build a new house?” But father wanted to be near our village. 

Okay, my plan is to retrospectively cover the last year of proper photography in a post a bit later on> But to have a bit of a practice at this blogging lark I will write-up this post which is all about the photographs I took before I started getting all serious like……

My first Digital SLR was a Canon 300D, which I got with the kit lens and another 55-200 lens, both were a bit pants when I looked back on them but the camera itself was great, fitted my hand well, easy to use and cheap as chips. Just a bit of a shame it was silver. The first photos I took with it were on a trip to Scotland, I was going walking in the hills around Glencoe…..It belted it down with rain the whole week…..But I still took my camera out, it didn’t seem to mind a bit of water.

On my way to the first soggy mountain I was going to climb I spotted some highland cattle in a field, I couldn’t really go home without a shot of a shaggy bovine.

They were the perfect models, standing still and allowing me to take a whole range of shots the rain even provided a nice bit of texture to the background.

But I wasn’t just interested in shooting the local wildlife, I wanted to seek out a few quirky images. I managed to find this bright red phone box in the middle of nowhere.  I don’t think I achieved quirky, I achieved holiday snapshot! I need to go back up there with my speedlights (didn’t have any at the time) and a dramatic sky and maybe a model or two and try again.

Over the next few years I shot a load of random stuff, occasionally thinking about the end result…

…but usually not…I just wafted a torch around a deer skull late at night, it seemed to make sense at the time….

Then I took a picture of some sand.

I should probably explain. It was the first time I pictured something in my head then went out and got exactly what I wanted. I know it’s not an astonishing work of art but the simple process of seeing a picture in my head and then making the picture with my camera (and a splodge of Photoshop) was really quite rewarding.

The next step in my journey to actually taking photography seriously was the first time I photographed people properly, again previous attempts had been simple snapshots without much consideration as to the final result. The following shot of Bob, my mum’s partner is quite a nice shot I think, but purely accidental, it worked as he didn’t realise he was having his photo taken.

‘

I was out on a film shoot and got the chance to shoot some actors, people who are used to performing, that was great fun, actually working with people who took direction and understood the process of making an image. So I ended up with a set of what I think are really nice expressive photographs that capture a little something about the person (or at least the person they were pretending to be for the film).

It was after this that I decided to change my camera for something with a few more features, I chose to go with the Canon 40d, I got a really good deal on a preorder and I got the 17-55 IS lens to go with it, constant f2.8 aperture which would prove useful for a lot of the photography that I was about to do. I started working as a camera assistant on a series of documentaries, and I took my camera along, over the course of two series of crime docs I snapped away between takes, sometimes grabbing a nice portrait, other times grabbing a snapshot of behind the scenes life.

I started to learn to take advantage of natural light, available light and the lights that had been set up for the actual TV shoot. Lots of spot metering and handholding a camera at very low shutter speeds. Oh and working really quickly, I was taking photos at the same time as I was supposed to be setting up lights, camera and tracking for the next scene! Some of the shots have been used for publicity for the programmes which is nice.

Going from this…

To this, across two series…

Okay half of the docs were done during the period where I was taking photography seriously, but one more shoot happened before the events that I will write about in my next post. I work at a uni, we have a TV studio that I work in and an automotive degree that has links with racing teams. One of these racing teams had a new car ready for the GT series, it was getting prepped for its first race at Silverstone. The race team had organised a photo shoot for some promotional images of the car, I had been invited along to have a look as I used to work in the car industry, and who wouldn’t want to see a race specced Aston Martin. It turned out that the guy who turned up to do the promotional images was an art director and he was expecting there to be a photographer on site. I don’t think I was asked there just to ogle an Aston.

Anyway I got my camera out and we started to shoot, I ws slightly nervous as this was a proper commercial job dropped in my lap at 5 minutes notice working with an art director who had specific methods and an idea of the final output. The following week I went to Silverstone and grabbed a few shots of the car tearing around the circuit, by ‘eck it was noisy, but it did give me chance to play with my 70-200 f4 L that I had recently got.

So that is all about my photography before I took it seriously (okay some of it I did take seriously). But my next post is about the real turning point and the work I have done since then to try and improve the photographs that I make.

First things first–the winner of my Thankful Tee Giveaway!  Using the Random Integer Generator, the winner is (strangely enough) comment #1, which was made by Gwen!  Gwen, check your e-mail for details!

If you didn’t win, don’t fret!  Inkbox Design has been generous enough to offer 10% off any order to Fit Bride readers–just use the coupon code cake at checkout.  Thanks, Inkbox!

Anyway, brace yourselves.  This is going to be a long post!

My boss was kind enough to let us leave work at 3:00 on Wednesday, so we got on the road earlier than predicted.  We were traveling to T’s parents’ house for the holiday, and they live 4-5 hours away, so we had quite a long journey, which was only made longer when we saw a very scary accident on the road ahead of us.  We were delayed for about 45 minutes while tow trucks were brought in and they landed a helicopter to Medi-Vac someone to a hospital.  I was pretty freaked out–we were on pitch black, windy country roads and not a minute before we saw the accident I told T to be careful because it was so scary!

Luckily, we all made it in one piece and went to bed pretty immediately after arrival.  T’s parents have the most beautiful home.  It’s actually built into the side of a hill!  They’re pretty far out in the country (at least by my standards), so everything is beautiful and rustic and PEACEFUL.  I slept like I haven’t slept in months there because everything is so quiet and pitch black!  Here is the part of this post where I assault you with a million pictures of how gorgeous this place is:

On Thursday morning, I went to walk Milhouse in the front yard, and what did I find?

Oh hai.

Not to be outdone, we went and peeked over the backyard fence…llamas!

Did you know that llamas make a noise that sounds exactly like a dog barking?  Well, they do.

However, my favorite animals of the weekend were inside the house–T’s parents have three doggies that were fast friends with Milhouse!  (Well, mostly.)

A big yellow lab:

A medium-sized scruffy terrier:

And the teeniest bundle of energy I’ve ever seen (I couldn’t keep her still enough for long enough to take a good picture!)

She weighs probably four pounds.  Please note that she is barely larger than a kitchen tile!

T and I have been discussing guns a lot lately, and since I’d never shot one (or, really, seen one in person) he took me out in their back acreage to do a little target shooting.  I sampled four different guns (after receiving proper safety lessons from T and his father): a 12 gauge shotgun, a .40 caliber Glock, a .38 special, and a .22 pistol.  My favorite was the Glock.  Here are a few re-enactment photos, taken AFTER the gun was safely unloaded and the safety was on (we did this twice, so that’s why my outfits are different):

Shooting a gun was an interesting experience for me.  I was a little nervous at first, but as my aim got better it melted away and I felt very empowered.  T and his father are very knowledgeable about guns and hunting and I felt as though I learned from great teachers.  I am still uncertain as to my stance on guns politically speaking, but I feel much better know knowing that I can operate one and use it safely and relatively accurately.   But anyway, on to Thanksgiving dinner!  T’s mom set the table:

And then…the food!

Sorry, using my phone again.  I had:

• lots of turkey
• lots of mashed potatoes
• a side salad
• mac and cheese
• stuffing
• cranberry sauce

And a lot of this:

We brought the Chateau Ste. Michelle riesling, which we liked, and the Monogamy cabernet, which T didn’t have but I didn’t like.  (And there’s not many cabernets I don’t like!)  We finished dinner off with pumpkin pie (for everyone else) and chocolate crumb bars (for me!).  After dinner we collapsed and watched Into the Wild on TV.

On Friday, we did a little more shooting, and lounged around the house.  T helped his dad cut down a tree and cleaned out a closet, but I mostly sat around and read and took a nice long afternoon nap.  We ordered pizza for dinner, watched Casino Royale, and then played Scrabble!  (I won.)  After Scrabble, we watched Burn After Reading and eventually drifted off to bed.  All in all, I had a nice, quiet, relaxing Thanksgiving!

We got going around 9 this morning.  Milhouse pooped out in the car:

And, as soon as we got home, I decided the weather was too gorgeous to stay inside (it’s 65 degrees and not a cloud in the sky today!).  Since I didn’t work out at all Tuesday-Friday this week (oops), I wanted to do something, so I changed into my running clothes and ran 3.0 glorious miles in 29:00 around my neighborhood.  (And I reviewed a cool new product which I’ll tell you about tomorrow, most likely!)

Anyway, I hope you all had great Thanksgivings like I did!

Genesis 1:26 informs us that we get to kill cows and eat them without feeling bad about it. Look no further than a perfectly seasoned t-bone for proof that our God is good and wise in letting us dominate livestock. That’s what “dominion” means, right?

When paired with a handcrafted micro-brew, the experience is nothing less than a foretaste of the coming Kingdom in all its perfection. And yes, that pun was fully intended.

Spaulding Gray’s Review of The Cheese Show on Martha Stewart

I know I said “Got Milk” was next up in Cheese 101… but after The Lady and I watched Martha Stewart’s Cheese Show –twice – I made the executive decision to change the format a bit and review MS’s show.

The Lady loves Martha Stewart and wishes she had more time to watch her show. Also The Lady is still pissed over the whole “going to the pokey thing” and contends that had MS been a man, she would have never had to clean the warden’s office or whatever befell her during those dark days…but I digress…

Martha really had it going on with The Cheese Show. She concentrated on American Artisanal Cheesemakers (a passion of mine as well) and began with a few facts about this growing industry:

1. Twenty years ago, there were less than 100 artisanal cheesemakers in the U.S. Today there are around 400.
2. Because the show featured Vermont artisanal cheesemakers, most of these statistics are Vermont-only: In Vermont, there were 11,000 dairies in 1950; today there are now only about 1100.
3. And while the number of Vermont dairies has drastically declined; the number of  Vermont artisanal cheesemakers has doubled over the last decade.
4. A little more than 50% of the artisanal cheesemakers in Vermont make cheese from cows’ milk; 25% use goats’ milk and the remainder make their cheeses from sheeps’ milk.

The first segment of the show introduced 5 Vermont artisanal cheesemakers:

1. Former Literary Agent, Angela Miller and her husband moved to Vermont and bought the historic Consider Stebbins Bardwell Farm. Located in the Champlain Valley, this farm founded in 1864 by Consider Bardwell was the home of the first cheesemaking co-op in Vermont. Their “Rupert”, an aged, raw Jersey cow milk cheese placed 3^rd in “Best of Show” at the 2009 American Cheese Society Competition.  They also raise and milk goats on their farm.
2. Hannah and Greg of Blue Ledge Farms, both landscape artists, came to Vermont to raise their children and create a sustainable lifestyle and business built on mutual respect for the land, the consumer and most of all the animals. They raise and milk a combination of Alpine, Lamancha and Nubian goats. As with all the cheesemakers MS featured, Blue Ledge has won many awards for their cheeses.
3. Repentant Lawyers John and Janine Putnam make Alpine-style cheese on their Thistle Hill Farm in North Pomfret, Vermont. Along with their four children and their 40+ Jersey cows (of which 20-21 are milked), they make certified organic Tarentaise cheese. This cheese is made in copper vats, essential to the development of the proper flavor (the Gruyere The Lady made at Roth Kase was also made in copper vats for the same reason).
4. Willow Hill Farm in Milton, Vermont is another certified organic dairy that makes both cows’ milk and sheeps’ milk cheeses. They also have a “u pick” certified organic blueberry patch. Sheeps’ milk is the richest milk of the three main milks used to make cheese (Cows’ milk and goats’ milk being the other two)and the sheeps’ milk yield is also the smallest. In addition to the small yield, sheep have the highest multiple births and these factors make sheep farming the most labor intensive in dairy farming.
5. Last, but certainly not least, we met the two men who own and run Cellars at Jasper Hill Farm in Greensboro, Vermont. These two artisans built 22K square feet underground vaults to ripen cheeses they buy from artisanal cheesemakers throughout Vermont. They buy the green and un-ripened cheeses; use the “recipes” of the cheesemakers to ripen the cheeses; and then market and sell the cheeses. This frees the small cheesemakers to concentrate on what they do best: make cheese.

Martha also briefly introduced, Anne Saxelby, of Saxelby Cheesemongers, who specializes in American Artisanal cheeses and sells them from a stall at the Essex Street Market on the Lower east Side of Manhattan. If The Lady and I have one criticism of the show, it is that we would have loved to learn more about this woman whose passion in life is bringing American Artisanal cheeses to the plates of everyone in Manhattan. She spent two years at Murray’s Cheese Shop (which The Lady swears it the Mecca of cheese); then an apprenticeship at Connecticut’s Cato Corner Farms and finished with six months touring cheese shops and cheesemakers in Europe.

The second segment of the show was an interview with Murray’s VP, Liz Thorpe, who presented a cheese sampler for the audience to taste using 5 cheeses from the aforementioned Vermont Cheesemakers. MS also plugged Liz’s new book, “The Cheese Chronicles” (which The Lady dashed out to buy and will review here in the near future). Liz has been in the cheese biz for 8 years and it all started with a visit to a small cheese shop in Manhattan and the rest is…as they say… history…

Liz was quite down-to-earth regarding the cheese plate she constructed: “Something old; something new; something stinky and something blue”. She built the cheese plate from 12 o’clock starting with the mildest of the cheeses featured: Blue Ledge’s Crottina (from goats’ milk) and proceeded to Consider Bardwell’s Dorset (a raw, aged Jersey Cow milk cheese). The third cheese on the plate was Willow Hill’s Autumn Oak (the only sheeps’ milk cheese on the plate). Then it was onto Thistle Hill’s Tarentaise, a robust and nutty Alpine-style cheese reminiscent of a European Beaufort. (Liz explained she would select this cheese over any cheddar when making a grilled cheese sandwich). The last cheese was Bayley Hazen Blue from The Cellars at Jasper Hill Farm which according to Liz had a crumbly consistency and a flavor that reminded her of popcorn.

The audience was thrilled to learn that each of them would be receiving a copy of Liz’s new book.

The next segment featured Lisa Schwartz and her Rainbeau Ridge Farm in Bedford, New York (a mere 5 miles from MS home). Lisa milks 35 Alpine goats twice daily and also runs a community agriculture partnership which sells organic, seasonal fruits and vegetables to the locals. And as if cheesemaking and farming weren’t enough, Lisa finds time to teach the local children how to make cheese and grow veggies: to teach them to connect to the food they eat.

Lisa began with 2 goats in 2002 and customers that were primarily friends and family. She and Martha made a “farmers cheese” together during this segment; a recipe that any of us could do at home with favorable results.

Lisa, like Liz, has a new book: “Over the Rainbeau” which is available on her website.

The fourth segment featured Terrance Brennan, Chef-Proprietor of Artisanal Fromagerie, Bistro and Wine Bar at 2 Park Avenue in Manhattan, who made a simple fondue using Uplands’ Pleasant Ridge and Thistle Hills’ Tarentaise – two cheeses perfect for fondue.

Chef Brennan’s tips for making a successful fondue:

1. Use only two or no more than three cheeses when making fondue. The Alpine-style cheeses are the best as they melt and homogenize better than other cheeses.
2. A high-acid white wine also helps homogenize the cheese.
3. A little cornstarch will help thicken the melted cheese and make it easier to stick to your bread and other dipping “goodies”.
4. When immersing your item into the cheese, use a “figure 8” motion to stir the fondue. This helps emulsify the fondue mixture.
5. When you add the grated cheese to your fondue pot, make sure the cheese is at room temperature.
6. If you drop your goodies into the cheese, you MUST kiss the cook…this is The Man’s favorite tip from this segment. I suspect it is also a favorite for The Lady…

In the next quick segment, Martha showed the audience how to make three easy cheese appetizers: Lacy Cheese Wafers, sautéed in a skillet; Pitted Dates filled with goats’ cheese and Martini Olives filled with blue cheese.

The final segment featured The Lady’s friend, Allison Hooper of Vermont Butter and Cheese who also has a new book, “In a Cheesemakers’ Kitchen” (another recent addition to the cheese book library at the manse). Martha and Allison featured several of the cheeses that Allison and her partner, Bob Reese make including Crème Fraiche and Bonne Buche (which means “good mouthful” in French).

If you love cheese, then this is one of the most pleasurable hours you can spend learning more about the American Artisanal Cheese movement. If you don’t love cheese, then you should seek professional help immediately.

I give Martha Stewart’s Cheese Show 2009 4 Paws out of 4 Paws (cause that’s all I’ve got).

Narated By Al-Bara : The Prophet (pbuh) said (on the day of Id-al-Adha), “The first thing we will do on this day of ours, is to offer the (‘Id) prayer and then return to slaughter the sacrifice. Whoever does so, he acted according to our Sunna (tradition), and whoever slaughtered (the sacrifice) before the prayer, what he offered was just meat he presented to his family, and that will not be considered as Nusak (sacrifice).” (On hearing that) Abu Burda bin Niyar got up, for he had slaughtered the sacrifice before the prayer, and said, “I have got a six month old ram.” The Prophet said, ‘Slaughter it (as a sacrifice) but it will not be sufficient for any-one else (as a sacrifice after you). Al-Bara’ added: The Prophet said, “Whoever slaughtered (the sacrifice) after the prayer, he slaughtered it at the right time and followed the tradition of the Muslims.”

Sahih Bukhari – Volume 007, Book 068, Hadith Number 453.

The following is a true story about courage and cows that I remembered as I pondered the word courage.

First, this is what I learned this week about my favorite of virtues.  The word courage descends from the Latin cor, for heart — courage quite literally means of, from, pertaining to the heart.  So unlike bravery (which comes from bravado, Italian) or valor (which shares the same root as value, or worth), courage is a boldness of feeling and action that manifests all that the heart implies: sincerity, moral truth, faith, emotion, intuition, passion, genuineness.  Its difference from bravery and valor says a lot.  As their etymologies suggest, bravery (bravado) is about social performance or conformity to expectation (thus soldiers are brave in battle); and valor (value) has an aristocratic assumption of social sanction (as with knights).  Bravery and valor are inevitably self-interested at some level, because they have to do with social image and identity, reputation.  Courage, meanwhile, requires those pre-rational virtues of feeling and spirit that we link metaphorically to the heart, the seat of love and faith, grief and longing.

Ok.  So.  When I was about 30 years old, I went to Ireland with Kevin.  He had a show in a gallery there, so we had an expenses-paid trip to Dublin and we went.

Dublin is a great city and we had a great time, drinking, hanging out with the locals, dancing, eating well.  And while we were there, our friends Erik and Grey from Oakland joined us. The four of us rented a car and together we drove across Ireland to the Western coast.  Through bog fields and farm fields and forests, over hills and dales, through flocks of sheep and, once, a herd of cows.

Grey and I were sentimental animal lovers.  I was at a funny point in my life where, if you showed me a baby, I would probably glaze over, but show me a dolphin or a puppy or a pretty cow and I was all oooooohs and aaaaaaaaaaaahs.  I used to watch Animal Planet religiously.

So we’re in this minivan suddenly amidst a sea of gentle, brown, black and white spotted Jersey cows.  Grey and I clamor for Kevin to stop the van.  He drives about a quarter of a mile past the herd, slows, and brakes.  Erik gets out and goes over to the hood of the van to look at a map.  Grey stands there getting her camera gear together.  Kevin steps out of the driver’s seat, swings open the passenger door, and motions for me to follow him.  I do.  I follow him in the direction of the cows.

He’s about a stone’s throw ahead of me as we’re closing in on this herd of beautiful Jerseys, with their big brown eyes and satiny fur.  Seen from this proximity, they’re bigger than I would’ve expected.  And more muscular.  No one said cow-gazing would be easy.

As we’re getting nearer to the cows, suddenly the biggest one — let’s call her Daisy Cow — Daisy Cow turns her head in our direction, looks us up and down, and doesn’t like what she sees.  She glares at us with her big, beautiful brown eyes.   She scrapes her hoof against the pavement a couple times like a pitcher at the mound.  She lets rip with a remarkably loud “MOOOOOO!”

The moment that the MOO breaks our awestruck silence, Kevin startles and jumps several inches into the air like a (how apropros) leprachaun who’s trying to click his heels together.  Apparently, Kevin interprets Daisy’s vicious moo as a warning sign that a charge is imminent, like we’re in the ring with a wild bull. Except she’s a cow.  A spotted Jersey cow.  With big chocolate eyes like a labrador retriever’s.  And the killer instinct of, well, a cow.  A really cute cow.  Did I say she was a really cute cow?  When the hoof scrapes pavement, Kevin’s done with cow-gazing.  He does a mad twist in the air, pivots back in the direction of the van, and breaks into a run.  He’s racing the cow, now, for the safety promised by our vehicle’s wide-open door.  The cow’s not moving.

Problem is, I’m directly in Kevin’s way.  I’m frozen to the spot, trying furiously to remember if cows possess some commonly known killer instinct that I’m blanking on.

Kevin sees me, I would’ve thought, but looking into his stricken face I soon realize he doesn’t see anything at all except the threat of dismemberment.  He’s running on pure instinct, presumably because his genes recall the primal forest memory of being an unarmed cave man attacked and mauled to death by a herd of prehistoric bovines.  And Kevin does what any prehistoric caveman in those same circumstances must have done.  He shoves his woman aside and keeps right on running.  I suddenly find my arms are pinwheeling crazily as I attempt to keep my footing so as to avoid being trammeled to death by the cows which, if Kevin’s reaction is any indication, are about to stampede.

Next my man’s within leaping reach of the backseat, so leap he does.  Catapults, in fact, like a human arrow through the air and through the door of the van—or maybe more like superman in sudden flight, arms outstretched before him as he flies up and over the threshhold of the vehicle and lands on the back seat, stretched out full length on his belly.  Now only his feet remain vulnerable to cow attack as they protrude still from the open door.

Erik, Grey and I burst out laughing.  Daisy Cow hasn’t moved an inch.  In fact, none of the cows have.  They’re just standing there methodically chewing their cud and thinking what drama queens we humans tend to be.  Then—and I’m not kidding—then Daisy Cow shakes her head in disgust at the scaredy-pants she terrified with a single moo and signals to the gang it’s time to blow this joint.  She leads the herd across the rest of the road and they head on down into the pasture, presumably to scare the pants off of some unsuspecting sheep or ponies.

“What do you expect?” Kevin said as we laughed.  “I’m a city boy.”

And that’s how I got thrown to the wolves for the first time.  I mean, to the cows.  Thrown to the cows.

Courage from Latin cor, for heart.

Cowardice from Latin cow, for rampaging bovine.

“Life shrinks and expands in proportion to one’s courage.” — Anais Nin

Stage Three comprises of the moving away from disney to work on characterising the artworks themselves. As an obvious choice due to the success of the artist’s work commercially, I have chosen Damien Hirst. Also I’d been working with him before and he is relevant right now due to everyone hating his new paintings.

New characters:

These then culminate in a scene with damien hirst and his new paintings:

So I don’t really know how to talk about this work that well, but basically it portrays these characters who we feel sorry for due to Hirst’s disregard for them and also the fact that they have personality compared to the new works. I do however feel sorry for the new works as they’ve been given such a slating, I think they’re quite good myself, and its nice to see achange from Hirst. I also believe that the works are hated so much becuase they’re something we’re not used to, traditional painting. This is so very different from what is around right now. And I believe it is so in a good way. It looks back to Bacon and artists of that era or before with a nostalgic mindset.

This piece of art reflects his throwing aside of his other works. It might be interesting to create characters of the new works instead as they will become heroes to the next generation as supposed to his earlier works being my artistic heroes.

So, we are still on Tampa time and we woke up at around 5:30 am here in Powell (7:30 am Tampa time) and stayed inside until we couldn’t stand it any more.  Damn, it is cold outside.  We went to check out my cousin’s cows and the Old Mantua Farms sign that hung on my Grandfather’s farm for many decades until he sold the farm about 5 or 6 years ago.  I just thought we would share these photos with all of you.

Oh, and all the winding roads here in Wyoming scream for me to ride my motorcycle down them, but we flew so that is a trip for another day…

I think this picture needs to be seen bigger to see all the details, so you can click on it to see the large format.

Saw this on a TV show during the week and it really made me laugh, not sure if it was ever used as a TV spot or if it worked as a viral but I think it’s very funny all the same. I assume that the end line which uses the word “funner” is a play on the stupidity displayed in the video, if not that makes it even better. Having watched the video I’m now wracking my brain trying to think of other product categories that could benefit from a little stupidity, making people laugh is like totally awesomer than anything else. lol. Take a look and see what you think.

 Long ago, I read a novel about life in the Appellachian mountains in the United States.

The theme of the novel is the fate of two children, whose writer father dies in a car accident and mother becomes paralytic, unable to respond even. So from New York, the children are transplanted to the primitive life in the rugged hills, where their grandmother lives, whom the kids have never seen!

I immensely enjoyed the novel.

When the grandmother wakes up the girl (the younger one is a boy) and tells her, at five in the morning, it is time to milk the cow, the girl protests: why can’t the cow sleep for some more time?

The have a negro boy as friend and guide, who will show the way to cross the valley and reach the next mountain which, by road will take half a day to reach. The boy dies in an accident, caused by illegal blasting of a tunnel, by a company producing oil. They want to destroy the hill to get oil.

A lawyer friend of the grand mother regularly comes and reads the bible, sitting by the side of the immobile mother, without even caring whether she hears it or not.

Once the children go to the lawyer’s office in the far away town, and are surprised to see plantains, pumpkins and other vegetables in the office. THEY WERE TOLD THAT VILLAGERS GIVE IT AS THEY DO NOT HAVE MONEY TO GIVE AS FEES!

The hill contains oil. All others agreed to sell land to the oil companies, but the grandmother refuses. In the end, the court decrees against her. She breaks down in the court; but the children become millionaires!

As usual, the lawyer reads the bible and in the end he conveys the news to the immobile mother. She smiles and tries to get up, something no one could believe. I think the lawyer  marries her.

Today I read in the science section of the Times Of India, that a patient supposed to be in comma for twenty three years, woke up to tell that he was fully conscious and used to hear their talk.

I was reminded of the novel!

There was an old woman who swallowed a fly,
I don’t know why she swallowed a fly,
Perhaps she’ll die.

…

There was an old woman who swallowed a cow,
I don’t know how she swallowed a cow!

She swallowed the cow to catch the goat,
Just opened her throat! to swallow a goat,

She swallowed the goat to catch the dog,
What a hog! to swallow a dog,

She swallowed the dog to catch the cat,
Imagine that! to swallow a cat,

She swallowed the cat to catch the bird,
How absurd! to swallow a bird,

She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
That wriggled and jiggled and tickled inside her,

She swallowed the spider to catch the fly,
I don’t know why she swallowed the fly,

Perhaps she’ll die.

…

There was an old woman who swallowed a horse,

…

She’s dead—of course!

Sorry, we’ve been reading far more children’s books than adult’s books lately. But it relates to my quick post of the day. For some reason over the past week or so, if I have the north-facing windows open, I will quite clearly hear a bellowing cow. The nearest ones I know of are a handful that were brought from some higher pastures to some pastures that are in between the line of houses of our area and the wooded walking trails. Like this guy:

And he’s probably a half a mile away! I guess that the acoustics of living on the side of a hill account for some of it, and that the cows here are just really loud.

© Carolee Clark

 ”Mrs. Cow”
by Carolee Clark
10″ x 10″
acrylic on wrapped canvas
$49 + $7 shipping within US

Click here for larger image.

A 2,000-year-old bronze drum and statue of the sacred cow Nandin are being displayed at the Quang Tri Museum to mark the 64th anniversary of Vietnam Cultural Heritage Day (November 23, 1945).

2,00-year-old bronze drum is being displayed at the Quang Tri Museum.

The drum was recently unearthed in Tra Loc village, Hai Xuan Commune, Hai Lang District in the central province of Quang Tri.

The statue of holy cow Nandin was found in an ancient Champa tower in Kim Dau village, Cam An Commune, Cam Lo District in the province.

According to the ancient Champa people, the Nandin Bull was a pure white bull that the Hindu God Shiva rode on. The sacred cow was also considered a lord of the castle.

The two antiques are now being presented to the Ministry of Culture, Sport and Tourism for recognition as national cultural heritage items.

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