Feb 292016


Today (29 February) is sometimes known as leap day, because it is the day that differentiates a leap year from ordinary years. More generically it is known as an intercalary day, a day that makes sure that the calendar and the revolution of the earth around the sun mesh. They are necessary in all calendars because the earth’s revolution around the sun is not exactly divisible into days. It’s about 6 hours more than 365 days, so every 4 years a day needs to be added to make things right. But . . . it’s not exactly 6 hours either. If it were, things would be ducky. Because it’s slightly less, a leap day is omitted in 3 years out of 400. The rule is that if a year is divisible by 100 but not by 400 it is NOT a leap year. So 1900 was not a leap year, 2000 was, and 2100 won’t be. I felt a little cheated when 2000 came around. Quirky though it sounds, I wanted to have that one year in my life that skipped being a leap year. Oh well.

Calendars whose months are determined by the moon’s phases sometimes have more intercalary days than strictly solar calendars, because 12 months of 28 days gives a year of only 336 days and 13 months gives you 364. If you want to keep a lunar calendar meshed with the sun, as the Chinese do, for example, you have to fiddle about a bit with extra days. Or you can be like Muslims and just let your religious festivals, based on lunar cycles, wander all over the solar year. The Julian calendar, implemented by Julius Caesar, was the first to introduce 29 February as a leap day. Pope Gregory’s reforms that gave us the Gregorian calendar we use today, had to make some major adjustments for errors in the Julian calendar, but kept 29 February as a leap day. For this adjustment in England, you can go here: https://www.bookofdaystales.com/give-us-our-eleven-days/

Obviously, the calendar is very important for keeping this blog. When the blog anniversary comes around in May this year (3 years and counting), I am going to experiment with celebrating festive days that wander about the year (such as Easter), because they are based on lunar rather than solar cycles. A challenge. For now 29 February is enough of a problem for me. Lots of anniversaries fall on 29 February, but I cannot content myself with choosing one and waiting until next year for another. Instead this post is going to have to be a hodge-podge of things that have occurred on 29 February throughout history.


It has often been cited as fact that in 1288 queen Margaret of Scotland issued an edict that on the 29th of February a woman had the right to ask any eligible bachelor to marry her, and if he refused he had to pay a fine. No matter how often this “fact” is repeated, however, there is no evidence of such an edict. Nonetheless, there has been a modest history of leap year dances, and the like, on this date, at which male and female roles are reversed, although in these days of greater gender equality in such matters, they have faded in popularity. “Popping the question” by a man nowadays seems to be more the province of stupid sitcoms than real life, in which couples come to a decision jointly over time – at least in the world I inhabit.


Notable events on this date don’t generally have anything to do with the fact that it is a leap day. For example, it is recorded that on 29 February 1504 there was a lunar eclipse that Christopher Columbus used to his advantage. For a year Columbus and his men were stranded on Jamaica. A Spaniard, Diego Méndez, and some locals paddled a canoe to get help from Hispaniola. The governor, Nicolás de Ovando y Cáceres, detested Columbus and obstructed all efforts to rescue him and his men. In the meantime Columbus, in a desperate effort to induce the indigenous population to continue provisioning him and his hungry men, won their favor by predicting the lunar eclipse for 29 February 1504, using Abraham Zacuto’s astronomical charts.

A person who is born on February 29 is sometimes called a “leapling.” In non-leap years, some leaplings celebrate their birthday on February 28, some on March 1. A few observe birthdays only on the authentic intercalary date, February 29, that is, every four years. The effective legal date of a leapling’s birthday in non-leap years varies between jurisdictions. In the United Kingdom, for example, when a person born on February 29 turns 18 in a non-leap year, they are considered to have their birthday on March 1 in the relevant year. In New Zealand, a person born on February 29 is deemed to have their birthday on February 28 in non-leap years, for the purposes of Driver Licensing under §2(2) of the Land Transport (Driver Licensing) Rule 1999. Otherwise, New Zealand legislation is silent on when a person born on 29 February has their birthday.


Confusion about the birthdays of leaplings has occasionally been used as a fictional plot device. For example, in Gilbert and Sullivan’s 1879 comic opera The Pirates of Penzance, the young hero Frederic was accidentally apprenticed to a band of pirates until his 21st birthday. Having passed his 21st year, he leaves the pirate band and falls in love. However, since he was born on February 29, his 21st (literal) birthday will not arrive until he is eighty-four, so he must leave his fiancée and return to the pirates. Rest assured, if you do not know the work, they figure it out.

There are a few people born on February 29 I might single out, but I’ll pick three.

First, the most curious, born in 1904 is Adolph Blaine Charles David Earl Frederick Gerald Hubert Irvin John Kenneth Lloyd Martin Nero Oliver Paul Quincy Randolph Sherman Thomas Uncas Victor William Xerxes Yancy Zeus Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenberdorft Sr, born in 1904 near Hamburg. He had 26 first names, one for every letter of the alphabet, and a very long last name. I am assuming he used “Sr” because his son was also Adolph, and not that he also had 26 names. It is on record as the longest official name. He shortened it to Mr Wolfe Plus 585 Sr.


Second, is Gioachino Antonio Rossini, born in 1792. He was a famous Italian composer who wrote 39 operas as well as sacred music, chamber music, songs, and some instrumental and piano pieces. His best-known operas include the Italian comedies Il barbiere di Siviglia (The Barber of Seville) and La Cenerentola (Cinderella), and the French-language epics Moïse et Pharaon and Guillaume Tell (William Tell). Until his retirement in 1829, Rossini had been one of the most popular opera composers in history. He is quoted as joking, “Give me the laundress’ bill and I will even set that to music.” There is no question that Rossini had a flare for writing tuneful and memorable melodies.

The overture to William Tell may be Rossini’s most well known piece because of its continued use in popular media. The intention of the overture is to paint a musical picture of life in the Swiss Alps, the setting of the opera. It was described by Berlioz (who usually loathed Rossini’s works) as “a symphony in four parts”, but unlike a symphony with its discrete movements, the overture’s parts transition from one to the next without any break.

Prelude, Dawn

The Prelude is a slow passage in E major, scored for five solo cellos accompanied by double basses. It begins in E minor with a solo cello which is in turn ‘answered’ by the remaining cellos and the double basses. An impending storm is hinted at by two very quiet timpani rolls resembling distant thunder. The section ends with a very high sustained note played by the first cello.


This dynamic section in E minor is played by the full orchestra. It begins with the violins and violas. Their phrases are punctuated by short wind instrument interventions of three notes each, first by the piccolo, flute and oboes, then by the clarinets and bassoons. The storm breaks out in full with the entrance of the French horns, trumpets, trombones, and bass drum. The volume and number of instruments gradually decreases as the storm subsides. The section ends with the flute playing alone.

Ranz des Vaches

This pastorale section in G major signifying the calm after the storm begins with a Ranz des Vaches or “Call to the Cows”, featuring the cor anglais. The horn then plays in alternating phrases with the flute, culminating in a duet with the triangle accompanying them in the background. The melody appears several times in the opera, including the final act, and takes on the character of a leitmotif. This segment is often used in animated cartoons to signify daybreak.

Finale, March Of The Swiss Soldiers

The Finale, often called the “March of the Swiss Soldiers” in English, is in E major like the Prelude, but is an ultra-dynamic galop heralded by trumpets and played by the full orchestra. It alludes to the final act, which recounts the Swiss soldiers’ victorious battle to liberate their homeland from Austrian repression. Although there are no horses or cavalry charges in the opera, this segment is often used in popular media to denote galloping horses, a race, or a hero riding to the rescue. Its most famous use in that respect is as the theme music for The Lone Ranger. At one time this usage was so famous that the term “intellectual” was jokingly defined as “a person who can listen to the William Tell Overture without thinking of the Lone Ranger.”The Finale is also quoted by Dmitri Shostakovich in the first movement of his Symphony No. 15.


Third, is Ann Lee, also known as Mother Ann, born in 1736. She is sometimes credited as being the founder of the United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing, commonly called the Shakers. She was not. That honor should probably go to James and Jane Wardley, but Ann Lee was a vitally influential leader in the movement’s early days, especially in the United States. I am sorry that Mother’s Ann’s birthday has to be shared with a host of other people and events because of the crush to do so much in one post on February, because there is so much I would like to say about her.

The Shakers, originally called Shaking Quakers, were an offshoot of the Quakers who left to form their own group after the Quakers wanted to play down physical manifestations of spirituality. I first learnt about the Shakers when I went to graduate school in North Carolina where my first mentor was Dan Patterson who was, at the time, writing the definitive work on Shaker song. The Shakers are sometimes described as millenials because they believed in the imminent second coming of Christ. I came to greatly admire them because of their steadfast belief in what I consider to be core Christian values, that include, simplicity, pacifism, complete equality of the sexes, and tranquility of the spirit built on faith. They were widely known for their craftwork, especially their furniture because of its elegance, utility, beauty, and simplicity. For a time in the 19th century they had a number of large and prosperous communities scattered throughout the United States, but they eventually died out because they practiced complete celibacy, and, therefore, could only grow or even remain stable in numbers through recruitment, which slowly tapered off as the Industrial Revolution progressed and the simple (celibate) life became less and less appealing. They also required new recruits to hand over to the community all of their wealth and possessions (much as Acts of Apostles tells us early Christian communities in Jerusalem behaved).

Gender equality among the Shakers was absolute. This stems from their reading of Genesis in which they argued that the first creation story (Genesis 1), describes God creating humans, male and female, in his own image. That is, they saw the story as identifying God as BOTH male and female. Many believed that God had returned in human form, not as a man, but as a woman – Mother Ann. Mother Ann was the second coming of Christ.

Shakers, following St Paul, believed that the Spirit granted humans gifts in many forms. Their music, for example, was not deliberately composed, but came to individuals as gifts. The most famous is called “Simple Gifts”

This song embodies the essence of Shaker ideas. The mention of turning is a reference to the fact that Shakers danced to awaken and enliven their spiritual natures.


I can’t think of a better recipe for today than Shaker lemon pie. This was my wife’s favorite, and I give her recipe from memory even though I never made it myself. It comes, originally, from a Shaker community cookbook she owned, but it’s easy enough to remember. It is simple, a little tart and a little sweet.


Shaker Lemon Pie

Choose lemons for this recipe that are as thin skinned as possible. If the skins are too thick it will not work. You will need a little under 1 lb of lemons. Cut off the ends of the lemons to expose the flesh. Discard the ends and slice the lemons as thinly as possible. You’ll need a really sharp knife to get them paper thin. Remove the seeds and place the slices in a non-reactive bowl. Mix the slices with 3 cups of granulated sugar, cover and let rest in the refrigerator overnight.

Next day preheat the oven to 450°F/230°C.

Grease a 9” deep pie dish and line it with pastry (see Hints). Beat 4 eggs well and mix them with the lemon slices. Pour this mix into the pie shell, making sure there is a flat and even layer of lemon slices on the top. Bake for 15 minutes, then reduce the temperature to 375°F/190°C and bake for an additional 20 to 25 minutes, or until the eggs are set and the top is golden. Cover the pastry edge with foil if it begins to brown too quickly. Serve hot or cold.

Nov 182013

William Tell, the swiss national hero

Supposedly on this date in 1307 William Tell shot an arrow into an apple on his son’s head. The legend as told by Tschudi (ca. 1570) reports that William Tell, who originally came from Bürglen, was known as a strong man, mountain climber, and an expert shot with the crossbow. In his time, the Habsburg emperors of Austria were seeking to dominate Uri. Albrecht (or Hermann) Gessler, the newly appointed Austrian Vogt of Altdorf, raised a pole in the village’s central square, hung his hat on top of it, and demanded that all the townsfolk bow before the hat.

On 18 November 1307, Tell visited Altdorf with his young son and passed by the hat, publicly refusing to bow to it, and so was arrested. Gessler, intrigued by Tell’s famed marksmanship, yet resentful of his defiance, devised a cruel punishment: Tell and his son would be executed, but he could redeem his life by shooting an apple off the head of his son, Walter, in a single attempt. Tell split the apple with a bolt from his crossbow.


But Gessler noticed that Tell had removed two crossbow bolts from his quiver, not one. Before releasing Tell, he asked why. Tell replied that if he had killed his son, he would have used the second bolt on Gessler himself. Gessler was angered, and had Tell bound.

Tell was brought to Gessler’s ship to be taken to his castle at Küssnacht to spend his newly won life in a dungeon. But, as a storm broke on Lake Lucerne, the soldiers were afraid that their boat would founder, and unbound Tell to steer with all his famed strength. Tell made use of the opportunity to escape, leaping from the boat at the rocky site now known as the Tellsplatte (“Tell’s slab”) and memorialized by the Tellskapelle.


Tell ran cross-country to Küssnacht. As Gessler arrived, Tell assassinated him with the second crossbow bolt along a stretch of the road cut through the rock between Immensee and Küssnacht, now known as the Hohle Gasse. Tell’s blow for liberty sparked a rebellion, in which he played a leading part. That fed the impetus for the nascent Swiss Confederation.

Tell supposedly fought again against Austria in the 1315 Battle of Morgarten. Tschudi also has an account of Tell’s death in 1354, according to which he was killed trying to save a child from drowning in the Schächenbach river in Uri.

Most likely the tale is apocryphal.  Versions of it well predate 14th century Switzerland.The earliest known occurrence of the tale is from the 12th century, in Saxo Grammaticus’ version of the story of Palnatoki, whom he calls Toko (Gesta Danorum Book 10, chapter 7):

Toko, who had been for some time in the service of the king [Harald Bluetooth], had, by the deeds in which he surpassed his fellow-soldiers, made several enemies of his virtues. One day, when he had drunk rather much, he boasted to those who were at table with him, that his skill in archery was such that he could hit, with the first shot of an arrow, ever so small an apple set on the top of a wand at a considerable distance. His detractors hearing these words, lost no time in conveying them to the ears of the king. But the wickedness of the prince speedily conveyed the confidence of the father to the peril of the son, ordering the sweetest pledge of his life to stand instead of the wand, from whom, if the utterer of the boast did not strike down the apple which was placed on him at the first shot of his arrow, he should with his own head pay the penalty of his idle boast. . . . When the youth was led forth, Toko carefully admonished him to receive the whiz of the coming arrow as steadily as possible, with attentive ears, and without moving his head, lest by a slight motion of his body he should frustrate the experience of his well-tried skill. He made him also, as a means of diminishing his apprehension, stand with his back to him, lest he should be terrified at the sight of the arrow. He then drew three arrows from his quiver, and the first he shot struck the proposed mark. Toko then being asked by the king why he had taken so many arrows out of his quiver, when he was to make but one trial with the bow, “That I might avenge on thee,” said he, “the error of the first by the points of the others, lest my innocence might hap to be afflicted and thy injustice to go unpunished!”

Apocryphal or not, widespread veneration of Tell, including sight-seeing excursions to the scenes of his deeds, is documented as early as the 16th century. Heinrich Brennwald in the early 16th century mentions the chapel (Tellskapelle) on the site of Tell’s leap from his captors’ boat.


Tschudi mentions a “holy cottage” (heilig hüslin) built on the site of Gessler’s assassination. The first recorded Tell play (Tellspiel), known as the Urner Tellspiel (“Tell Play of Uri”), was probably performed in the winter of either 1512 or 1513 in Altdorf.The church of Bürglen had a bell dedicated to Tell in 1581, and a nearby chapel has a fresco dated to 1582 showing Tell’s death in the Schächenbach.

Antoine-Marin Lemierre wrote a play inspired by Tell in 1766 and revived it in 1786. The success of this work established the association of Tell as a fighter against tyranny with the history of the French revolution. The French revolutionary fascination with Tell was reflected in Switzerland with the establishment of the Helvetic Republic. Tell became the symbol of the short-lived republic, his figure being featured on its official seal. The French Navy also had a Tonnant class ship of the line named Guillaume Tell, which was captured by the British Royal Navy in 1800.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe learned of the Tell saga during his travels through Switzerland between 1775 and 1795. He obtained a copy of Tschudi’s chronicles and considered writing a play about Tell, but ultimately gave the idea to his friend Friedrich von Schiller, who in 1803–04 wrote the play Wilhelm Tell, first performed on March 17, 1804, in Weimar. Schiller’s Tell is heavily inspired by the political events of the late 18th century, the French and American revolutions, in particular. Schiller’s play was performed at Interlaken (the Tellspiele) in the summers of 1912 to 1914, 1931 to 1939 and every year since 1947. In 2004 it was first performed in Altdorf itself.

Gioachino Rossini used Schiller’s play as the basis for his 1829 opera William Tell. The “William Tell Overture” is one of his best-known and most frequently imitated pieces of music; in the 20th Century, the well known ending of the Overture became the theme for the radio, television, and motion picture incarnations of The Lone Ranger.  Oh, what the heck:

Adolf Hitler was enthusiastic about Schiller’s play, quoting it in Mein Kampf, and approving of a German/Swiss co-production of the play in which Hermann Göring’s mistress Emmy Sonnemann appeared as Tell’s wife. But on June 3, 1941, Hitler had the play banned. The reason for the ban is not known, but may been related to the failed assassination attempt in 1938 by young Swiss Maurice Bavaud (executed on May 14, 1941, and later dubbed “a new William Tell” by Rolf Hochhuth), or the subversive nature of the play. Hitler is reported to have exclaimed at a banquet in 1942: “Why did Schiller have to immortalize that Swiss sniper!”

Salvador Dalí painted The Old Age of William Tell and William Tell and Gradiva in 1931, and The Enigma of William Tell in 1933.


No trouble deciding today’s recipe , a delectable apple cake: William Tell Never Miss Cake.


William Tell Never Miss Cake



8 ozs cream cheese, softened
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
1 cup canola oil
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsps baking powder
2 tsps ground cinnamon
1 tsp salt
¼ tsp baking soda
2 cups chopped peeled tart apples
1 cup shredded carrots
½ cup Chopped Pecans

Praline Icing:

½ cup packed brown sugar
¼  cup butter, cubed
2 tbsps 2% milk
½ cup confectioners’ sugar
½  tsp vanilla extract
¼ cup chopped pecans, toasted


Preheat oven to 350°F/ 175°C

In a small bowl, beat the cream cheese and ¼ cup sugar until smooth. Beat in 1 egg. Set aside.

In a large bowl, beat the oil with the remaining sugar and eggs until well blended. Sift together the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, salt and baking soda, and gradually beat the flour into the oil mixture until blended. Stir in the apples, carrots, and pecans.

Line a greased and floured 10 in fluted tube pan with half of the cake batter.  Spread the cream cheese mixture in an even layer over the batter.  Fill with the remaining apple batter.

Bake for 50-60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out clean. Cool 10 minutes before removing from the pan to a wire rack to cool completely.

In a large saucepan, bring the brown sugar, butter and milk to a boil. Cook and stir 1 minute. Remove from the heat. Whisk in the confectioners’ sugar and vanilla until smooth. Drizzle over the cake  and sprinkle with pecans.

Yield: 12 servings.