June from the Hours of Henry VIII

The Morgan Library’s Hours of Henry VIII showing three men mowing the hay with scythes and two women raking it into pilesThis image from the Morgan Library’s Hours of Henry VIII’s calendar page for June shows the first mowing of the hay, a fairly common labor for June and one frequently illustrated in books of hours. On the left three men swing long-handled scythes to mow the hay, while on the right, women use rakes to heap the mown hay into piles or stacks for drying. After it is thoroughly dried, the hay will presumably be loaded into the wagon waiting in the background, behind piles of drying hay. The wagon is a little odd looking; I’m not sure it was meant to be drawn by horse, mule or ox, but instead was perhaps hauled by people.

In the front of the picture, on the right. at the feet of the women are the same small flat-sided casks we saw in the Hours of Henry VIII’s calendar image for February. The casks lie next to cloth-wrapped parcels that the Morgan Library suggests contain lunch for the workers, a reasonable supposition.

An interesting detail is that the men are working in their shirts, with bare legs, with the exception of the gentleman in white socks. Two of the men are wearing shoes, a wise precaution when swinging a sharp blade, while the women are barefoot. This saves shoe leather.

The central blue plaque at the center of the bottom border features the astrological symbol for June and July, Cancer the Crab.  There are some unidentifiable saints, or as the Morgan library puts it, “generic saints” but then identifies St. John the Baptist (he appears to be in the middle of baptizing someone) in the border on the right. The feast of his nativity, marked in the calendar gelow the main image, is June 24. The Morgan then identifies St. Eligius (feast June 25), a generic male saint, and saints Peter and Paul (feast of June 29).

Some Wisdom about Writing from Lynn Hunt

You cannot accumulate pages if you constantly second guess yourself. You have to second guess yourself just enough to make constant revision productive and not debilitating. You have to believe that clarity is going to come, not all at once, and certainly not before you write, but eventually, if you work at it hard enough, it will come. Thought does emerge from writing. Something ineffable happens when you write down a thought. You think something you did not know you could or would think and it leads you to another thought almost unbidden.

So says Professor Lynn of Hunt of UCLA’s History department. The entire article “How Writing Leads to Thinking (And not the other way around)” from the Art of History column in the February 2010 issue of Perspectives on History is available online here. Thanks to Jean Smith of the History Compass Exchanges blog for calling Hunt’s article to my attention.

The idea of writing as discovery is not new to composition teachers, or rhetoricians, but I do very much wish that more senior scholars would do as Professor Hunt has, and talk about their writing process. Pass the link on to others; it might be the very thing some graduate student needs.

Luke 2:1 in Gothic

Warth than in dagans jainans. urrann gagrefts fram kaisara
Agustau gameljan allana midjungard. soh than gilstrameleins
frumista warth at wisandin kindina Swriais raginondin Saurim
Kwreinaiau. jah iddjedun allai ei melidai weseina. hwarjizuh in
seinai baurg. urrann than jah Iosef us Galeilaia. us baurg
Nazaraith in Iudaian. in baurg Daweidis sei haitada Bethlaihaim
duthe ei was us garda fadreinais Daweidis. anameljan mith Mariin.
sei in fragiftim was imma qeins. wisandein inkilthon. warth than
miththanei. tho wesun jainar. usfullnodedun dagos du bairan izai
jah gabar sunu seinana thana frumabaur. jah biwand ina jah galagida
ina in uzetin. unte ni was im rumis in stada thamma.

Via Jim Marchand, medievalist extraordinaire.

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