Never before with a hellebore

[In a would-you-could-you-on-a-train manner this post will ride hell-bent for leather all over the place, so be forewarned.]

The Dallas Arboretum cured my madness. Walked all around this morning taking photos and working out the Tristan und Isolde kinks. I came under the spell of hellebore in beds both shady and sunny. 

hellebore 

late 14c., from O.Fr. ellebore, from L. elleborus, from Gk. helleboros, perhaps meaning "plant eaten by fawns," from Gk. ellos/hellos "fawn" + bora "food of beasts," from bibroskein "to eat," from PIE base *gwere-"to swallow." Among the ancients, the name given to various plants of both poisonous and medicinal qualities, reputed to cure madness.

Perhaps the plant was eaten by fauns, not fawns.  I never before saw a hellebore nor Nijinsky dancing to Debussy's "Afternoon of a Faun". Nor Nureyev neither, no matter how many negatives that is. I was as spellbound by the flowers as by the classic ballet film from one hundred years ago that beckoned me from my search.

Something about these plants feels very ancient even before I learn their name. Is it the dusty, slightly faded colors? The quality of porcelain? The chalky '68 rouge on the withered cheeks of the junior high art teacher two years shy of retirement telling eighth-graders how to carve plaster of Paris into della Robbia rondels?

Dallas Arboretum test garden

Hellebore plants are known as Lenten roses even though they are not part of the rose family.  

Hellebore for Lent....

Hellebore for lemons... also one lime, a clove of garlic, lite mayo, a red bell pepper, Tillamook pepper jack, today's newspaper, black olives... wait, wait, this is a grocery list!

Hellebore for leather? 

Hell-bent for leather. 

Hell-bent? Hell for leather? All in a lather? 

What do these mean? Am I stuck in a dream? Why are my former in-laws in this dream? Well, that last one would take many more blog posts and an interview with Isadora Duncan to explain!

• Hell-bent--with reckless determination; at full speed.
• Ride hell-for-leather--early use of this phrase by Kipling in 1888 to mean desperately and/or swiftly causing a horse's skin to lather.

Now I'm all in a dither about daffodils, narcissus, and jonquils. Every spring Dad and I used to wonder about the distinction. We could never remember from year to year.  This year Dad is beyond care, and I must dither on alone. 

The library regular wants to check out two DVDs from the NEW shelf, but the circulation system allowed only one. We josh around a bit, both of us having mellowed over the years. He semi-jokingly claims I put the kibosh on his movie plans. I tell him I researched "kibosh" once, but now I've forgotten its origins. The regular says if I researched it I should remember.Trouble is, I joshed, my memory was kiboshed and my brains are goulash.  

kibosh 

1836, kye-bosk, in slang phrase put the kibosh on, of unknown origin, despite intense speculation. 

goulash 

1866, from Hungarian gulyáshús, from gulyás "herdsman" + hús "meat." In Hungarian, "beef or lamb soup made by herdsmen while pasturing."

© 2012 Nancy L. Ruder

bEEP after Ballet

Once upon a time in fairy tale land a princess pricked her finger on a spindle and slept for one hundred years. When I was a kid we placed our 33 rpm LPs on the spindle of Dad's HiFi record player, and slid the button that activated the needle arm with its diamond stylus. Not even Prince Charming could touch the HiFi without being certified in its use by my parents. I knew bumping the record on the spindle was A VERY BAD THING, but wasn't sure how it could put me to sleep. To a young princess like myself, the words "needle arm with diamond stylus" were every bit as magical as "mirror mirror on the wall", "glass slipper", "let down your hair", and "spin straw into gold".

After Texas Ballet Theater's lovely "Sleeping Beauty," I walked back to the Buick Skylark parked by the Dallas Museum of Art. I started the car, and pushed the power button for the radio. The digital screen lit up with

bEEP

No radio. It wouldn't turn off. It wouldn't play. Sort of freaky, like someone sending a creepy joke. Eventually it played a cd. When I ejected the cd the radio worked. No further messages appeared.

What a relief!

I'm sorry Nancy, I'm afraid I can't do that...

© 2010 Nancy L. Ruder

June severe weather watch fashions

The search for perfect Mother of the Groom shoes has been this vacation week's prioritiy. After several purchases and returns, I'm feeling good about the latest choice. The shoes seem steady for standing in a reception line, and for being ushered to my seat without tripping. I would not want to wear them in severe weather, though.


During Weather Watch Radar radio broadcast interruptions I realized my dress for Danger Baby's big event is the color of a threatening Nebraska June thunderstorm. On the tag, the dress color is "Pacific". Since I've never been west of Moab, Utah, I don't know diddly about "Pacific". It's about the same for the new collegiate athletic conference realignment.

My dress for the upcoming wedding resembles my '96 Buick Skylark with potential hail up to golf ball size. This weekend I get to attend the Texas Ballet Theatre's version of "Sleeping Beauty". I don't want to look like Maleficent, the bad fairy in Disney's "Sleeping Beauty", but maybe if the mother-in-law looks like a tornado watch, the marriage will have fewer storms!


© 2010 Nancy L. Ruder

Wendy, Michael, John!

This cabbage butterfly flits about the broccoli leaves in her layered chiffon dance costume looking ever so much like one of Dracula's undead wives in the recent Texas Ballet Theater production at Bass Hall in Fort Worth. So delicate, beautiful, and evil, and ready to suck the life out of our spring garden. Fiendish...


Sitting in the box at the Bass, I turned around and whacked the nearly-snoring males of our party on their knees with my rolled-up program. Wake up, you village oafs, youths, and innkeepers! The undead wives are flying!!! D'that ever happen at your crypt?

"Flying by Foy," I learn, is the industry standard for theatrical flight rigging. That Peter Pan television special starring Mary Martin and Cyril Richard that I loved far more than brussel sprouts back in the 1950s was managed by Peter Foy.

Judanna Lynn's costume designs were perfect. Dracula's gorgeous batwing cape alone was worth the drive to Ft. Worth. I wish I knew more about the process of inspiration, research, design, and construction for it. The velvet and brocade costume weighs thirty pounds, and has a fifteen foot wingspan! The details are as luscious at the images of moths in Joseph Scheer's Night Visions, and as powerful as an evening at Austin's Congress Avenue bridge!

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Von't you be my neighbor?

"Boys and girls," Mr. Rogers would ask, "can you say, 'Vlad the Impaler'?" He would untie his shoes and put on his slip-ons, then tie that black batwing cape around his neck. Slipping the plastic fangs he got trick-or-treating last Halloween into his mouth, Fred would gradually morph into Vincent Price before sprinkling vishvood in the vishtank.

It's a beautiful night in this neighborhood,
A beautiful night for a neighbor,
Vould you be mine?
Could you be mine?

It's a neighborly night in this beautywood,
A neighborly night for a beauty,
Vould you be mine? Could you be mine?
...

Von't you please,
Von't you please,
Please von't you be my neighbor?

Spoken: Hi television neighbor, I'm glad we're together again.... Tonight we are going to play vindow viper, and vipe your vindows!"

Vell, not exactly, but I am looking forward to Texas Ballet Theatre's "Dracula" with crypt-chilling music by Liszt, choreography by Ben Stevenson, and danced in the incredible Bass Hall in Fort Worth. A ballet with sleeping beauties, but no fairy wings sounds qvuite intriguing.

Any vampire vindow viper dancing around here vill have to sleep in the vorm bin, as I have no Transylvanian dirt. I've got a bottle of Vindex ready, though. Next time I read One Fish Two Fish I'll use my vampire voice.







© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Fairy dust

"You have glitter on your chin," I told the grandmother driving the car while I played semi-competent navigator. "Stay in this lane; we don't want to exit." My borrowed granddaughter was napping in the backseat.

The three of us didn't want to leave the ethereal atmosphere of the Bass Performance Hall in Fort Worth. We didn't want to exit the fairy tale world created by Texas Ballet Theater's lavish Rococco production of "The Sleeping Beauty". We hadn't seen enough of the evil fairy Carabosse's spider-monster in the forest of Act II (which is really the third act).

The young daughters, nieces, and granddaughters in the audience were tired and crabby now. It was time for the show to end. Three hours is a very long time, even in Ballet Princess Land. Tiny girls in velvet and tulle swirly skirts were falling asleep with their heads on grandmas' minks. Girls in matching sister dresses were getting seriously cranky and being carried out by their parents.

I felt lucky to visit this foreign fantasy. Raising three sons, I missed Ballet Princess Land as a mom, just as I skipped the pink aisle at Toys R Us. My nieces have never been conveniently located for auntie outings. Maybe someday I'll be a glitter-chinned grandma myself (no rush, guys!!), and get to enjoy some fuchsia-tutu-sparkling-tiara time. I wouldn't trade a minute of the cowboy/camouflage/ninja/Hot Wheels experience of raising three sons. Still, it might be nice to add some experience with little pink aliens to my resume somewhere down the line. You know, try out some cultural diversity, with or without fairy wings.

On Nasher & Dancer & Prancer

Finally made it to the annual Dallas Dance Festival. The festival, sponsored by Dance Council, showcases six area dance troupes, giving them a chance to promote their upcoming seasons. This year it was held at the Nasher Sculpture Center in conjunction with NSC's Saturday Night in the City series.

The dance performances were inside the downstairs Nasher Hall in front of the wall of windows. They could be watched from inside the Hall, or from the slope outside the windows. Seated inside for two pas de deux by Texas Ballet Theater, I could barely see the other audience outside in the dark. The windows created a mirror effect. You remember that mirror effect! It's the reason your parents made you sit with your back to the window during supper so you wouldn't make faces at yourself. Texas Ballet Theater also performed "One" from "A Chorus Line", which was cute, but didn't rock my socks.

For the Bruce Wood Dance Company performance I wanted to be outside on the slope. It seems too little to call the space an amphitheater*. Sitting outside in the dark meant that the indoor audience and dancers seemed to be inside a lighted aquarium. The audience was very visible, and the experience felt a bit like spying.

I'm so much more impressed with the Bruce Wood Dance Company. They performed a duet based on Pablo Neruda poems set to Vivaldi music, and then their fabulous "Lovett" ballet to songs by Lyle Lovett, of course. That filled me with great joy--the ecstatic aesthetic experience. Bruce is an incredibly creative choreographer. His ballets powerfully communicate layers of ideas and emotions. I understand his work as capital A art. I understand classical ballets as costumes and pointy toes with lots of flittering, not that those are bad things.

One thing I don't understand about BWDC is why its web site isn't up to date. I guess it's a money issue, but it makes me frustrated. Nowadays an out-dated web site makes searchers think an arts group no longer exists. It fails to attract donations and ticket sales. When Ed McMahon delivers my million dollar check, I'll send some to Bruce Wood to keep the web site current. Until then, this is the 2006-2007 season at Bass Performance Hall in Fort Worth from the flyer I got at the Dance Festival:

Monday, October 9, 2006 "Harmony"

Monday, January 15, 2007 "Hope", featuring singer/songwriter Hal Ketchum, on the theme of fathers and sons.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007 "Happiness"

Thursday, June 21 "Heart"

For tickets, call the company at 817-731-3221. All performances begin at 7:30, and Bruce himself says they're "over so you can be back in Dallas tucked into bed by 11:15, guaranteed."

According to the Dance Council's online performance calendar single tickets are $20-65, and series tickets are $68-221, at 817-212-4280. "Join the Bruce Wood Dance Company enthusiasts who delight in the company's repertoire ranging in expression from ecstasy and spirituality to smart, sexy, and lighthearted." Amen to that!

Try the Nasher at night sometime, and you might be inspired, too:





*amphitheater
1546, from L. amphitheatrum, from Gk. amphitheatron, neut. of amphitheatros "with spectators all around," from amphi- "on both sides" + theatron "theater," from theasthai "watch, look at." Classical theaters were semi-circles, thus two together made an amphitheater.

A bunny dances into a bar...

A bunny dances into a bar...no, wait. This isn't an old joke. The bunnies are at the barre in ballet class.

Tints and Shades

Fluffy the Paintbrush is dancing again this week in very springy colors. My little students are drawing ballet bunnies, and trying to grasp that the eyes go on the head, not on the tummy, and the arms are shapes, not lines. It is hard work, and sometimes Fluffy, the bunnies, the preschool students, and the teacher all wish they could have a nap in the rabbit family's burrow.

We are inspired by a cute book called Lettice, the Dancing Rabbit.
My kindergarten-second grade kids are also learning about light and dark, and the difference between watercolor and tempera paints. When using watercolors, you add more water to red to get pinks. With temperas, you add white. It is all splendid for painting dancing rabbits. I get to tell the boys it takes a really strong guy to be a dancer and lift the ballerina bunnies in the air.

Our colors remind me of the Bruce Wood choreographed dance, Rheology, performed by the Texas Ballet Theater. The students' art took me back to the beauty of monochromatic color schemes. We resist monochromatic thinking it is dull, and then it shoots us a Rose Bowl Parade moment. Ooooh. Aaahhh. Can you smell the rose petals?