Lördag med Gutenberg

 En perfekt gråtrist dag att kura ihop sig vid brasan med herr Gutenberg. I synnerhet som han kompenserar förra lördagens magra utbud med fler intressanta böcker än jag kommer att hinna läsa den här veckan.

 "The 'Look About You' Nature Study Books, Book 4 (of 7)", av Thomas W. Hoare är en pedagogisk lärobok som vänder sig till barn. 

 “We are going to have a peep into the inside of these twigs,” said Uncle George, as he laid some willow and horse-chestnut twigs on the table.

“First,” he said, “let us examine the outside of them.” He handed a small willow branch to Tom and a horse-chestnut branch to Frank.

“Now, Frank, tell me all you see.”

“I see the rings of scars which mark each year’s growth,” said Frank. “This year’s growth is at the top, above the first ring of scars. Below this is last year’s growth. Then comes another ring of marks, and below this again is the growth of two years ago.”

“That is to say,” said his uncle, “the upper part of your twig is about one year old, the middle part is two years old, and the lower part is three years old. Go on, Frank.”

“The upper part is light brown, while the middle and lower parts are dark brown.”

“Oh, it is studded all over with little oval marks like pits,” said Frank.“Take your lens, Frank, and look at that brown covering carefully.”

“Now, what about the buds?”

“The buds,” said Frank, putting down his lens, “are in pairs; and the stem is swollen where each pair of buds comes off.”

“Very good,” said Uncle George. “That is exactly what I wanted you to notice. The swollen parts of a stem are called its nodes. In every stem, buds and leaves occur at the nodes. Nodes are very well seen in grass and corn stems.”

“Then at the top of the twig there is a very large bud and a pair of small buds, one on each side of it,” said Frank.

“You have described it very well,” said his uncle. “Now, Tom, what about the willow twig?”

“I see some very tiny marks on it,” said Tom. “There are no rings marking the year’s growth; and the buds are not arranged in pairs.”

Vill du läsa om experimenten Frank utför, får du klicka dig över till Gutenberg — mig påminner det mig om flaskträdgårdarna som var så populära på 70-talet (tror att det var 70-talet), och jag funderar allvarligt på att leta fram några lämpliga kärl för att starta en eller två miniträdgårdar.

 

Jag skulle tro att de flesta, med mig, förknippar Dorothy Sayers med Lord Peter, i "Oxford Poetry 1919", en lyrikantologi, kan man läsa dikter av såväl henne som helt okända (för mig) poeter.

SYMPATHY

I sat and talked with you

In the shifting fire and gloom,

Making you answer due

In delicate speech and smooth—

Nor did I fail to note

The black curve of your head

And the golden skin of your throat

On the cushion's golden-red.

But all the while, behind,

In the workshop of my mind,

The weird weaver of doom

Was walking to and fro,

Drawing thread upon thread

With resolute fingers slow

Of the things you did not say

And thought I did not know,

Of the things you said to-day

And had said long ago,

To weave on a wondrous loom,

In dim colours enough,

A curious, stubborn stuff—

The web that we call truth.

                      D. L. SAYERS

      To a little house in oxford

Through the half-opened door the light streams out

Across the street,

And lays a path of gold on stones worn grey

By passing feet.

I catch a glimpse of flowers in quaint old bowls

Standing in gloom,

And many books on intimate low shelves

Go round the room.

                             K. MOUNSEY