Monthly Archives: June 2012

Barkly

Oh, my dears. It’s been a long week. And it is Friday night. The sky is dark, the moon is traveling past the stars, and much of the world is readying for bed. Curl up and listen to the tales I weave, until your eyes grow heavy and you slip into slumber, ready for the Dream Maker.

Have you ever wandered through a parking lot and noticed tiny plants growing through the pavement? Have you wondered at the ivy and vines that seem to grow out of bricks and building sides? Have you puzzled over enormous roots that undulate over the ground like moray eels, yet seem to be without a tree trunk? Then you, my friend, have seen one of the trjábörkur, a complicated genus of sentient vegetative creatures.

This is Barkly, and he is a trjábörkur. He was found in a vacant lot that was being demolished for high-end condominiums, and rescued by a kind soul who appreciated his rakish smile. Oddly soothed by sea shanties, Barkly is nourished by the minuscule bacteria found in our air. If you notice him moving, he is dancing, imagining himself on a great ship cresting waves and meeting mermaids. What appears to be a grimace is actually the face of great contentment, something all trjábörkur share. We could learn a lot from these slow-moving, large-dreaming, oft-ignored creatures.

Sleep tight, my pets. Dream deep.

Bees Love Cole Porter

We never had many bumble bees in the garden until I started playing Cole Porter on the stereo. Who knew?

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Tentacular/Tentaculum

I have spent the bulk of today following a trail of faintly glowing residue throughout the house. I first discovered this trail in the first floor water closet; along the walls originating at the sink, this trail went over and around the oval mirror, around the outlet and it appeared out the door. The trail appeared lighter and shinier than the wallpaper (which is a truly relaxing shade of dark lavender-grey) and there is no getting around it – it looks like tentacles. This trail has taken me across the house; up the staircase to the Vivarium, across the hallway to the Laboratory, even out onto the Widow’s Walk. I lost it in the grotto and the subterranean canal, but admittedly the walls are made of rock and in the flickering lights it’s difficult to fully track.

My guess is that something lives in the canal and came out last night to explore the house. It appears my nocturnal dragons were not patrolling the house as usual and instead were having a bit of a drunken yahtzee tournament in the garden, enjoying last night’s temperate weather.

So until this creature appears again, I am at a loss as to the origins of this tentacular trail.

Tentacular is an adjective meaning of or pertaining to tentacles; resembling a tentacle or tentacles. According to the Century Dictionary and Cyclopedia this definition pertains to any aspect of a tentacle or tentacles: the nature, structure, function, or appearance of a tentacle; adapted or used as a tactile organ; tentaculiform: as, tentacular character, movements, or formation.

The word originates from the Latin tentaculum. Tentaculum, then, is a noun that means A tentacle of any kind; also, a tactile hair; a vibrissa, as one of the whiskers of a cat. Similarly, One of the stiff hairs situated about the mouth, or on the face, of many animals, and supposed to be tactile organs; a tactile hair.

Tentaculum is derived from the Classic Latin word tentare, which means to handle, feel; attempt. Tentare, in turn, is derived from the Latin word temptare which means test, try; urge.

One might say that my beard hairs function as tentaculum; they sometimes seem to have minds of their owns and Bubo swears they move independently of my skin. Oh, if only that were so! Like Medusa, but instead of serpents as hair on her head, my wee beard hairs dance and move like undersea creatures. Creatures who enjoy the crumbs of baked goods. You odd fellows know what I am talking about: a good mustache and beard brush is essential to looking your best.

 

A Short Treatise on Owls and Ice Coffee

I do not regret my fourth ice coffee of the day.

I do regret letting Bubo have one ice coffee.

Owls and caffeine apparently are a terrible combination.

Lesson learned.

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