Monday, Monday! It IS all I hoped it could be . . . (Irene's Aftermath)

Thankfully, as of late yesterday afternoon, August 28th 2011, I had been relatively unaffected by Hurricane Irene, an event I discussed in this past Saturday's blog post. The sun is not up yet this morning, but from what I could see from my window before going to sleep last night, my terrace garden seems as if it endured the storm — thanks to my preparations based on Juan V's advice which was included in my blog post for this past Saturday.
I am grateful to have fared well in terms of Hurricane Irene, prompting me on this Monday morning, August the 29th of 2011, to not only think of  the line, "Monday, Monday, it was all I hoped it could be" (from the "golden oldie" song from The Mama's and Papa's), but to use a minor modification of it as a title for today's post. This Monday's  blog entry is one of those off scheduled postings that I mentioned in my schedule earlier this year which you may refer to by clicking here. 


Scheduled or not, this Monday morning is worthy of a blog entry, after the drama surrounding Hurricane Irene (that has dominated the news since last Thursday). There is much for me to be thankful for on this Monday morning, in the aftermath of Hurricane Irene, given all the worst case scenarios that dominated the news about her, which, in some places within Irene's path, occurred.


This morning is eerily quiet — the calm after the storm — not to be confused with the calm before the storm; for the distinction is profound. Calm before a storm is layered with anticipation of what's to come, calm after the storm, at least after the storm of Hurricane Irene, on this Monday morning in New York City is peaceful. Perhaps, in this instance, the aftermath peacefulness can be attributed to the name Irene which means peace.


You could easily argue, dear reader, that if Irene means peace, then how could a storm which packed more than 120 mile per hour winds, knocked out power up and down the Eastern coast, and, in New York City, gave cause for massive mandatory evacuations in low lying areas, in addition to shutting down the entire subway and bus systems, as well as Broadway shows and sports events, have a name equated with peace? Aside from the fact that there was peace from having all these venues closed, the name, Irene, is not solely associated with peace. Evidently, according to Behind the Name Inc, "the name (Irene) was common in the Byzantine Empire, notably being borne by an eighth century empress, who was the first woman to lead the empire. She originally served as a regent for her son, but later had him killed and ruled alone."


In any event, the naming of hurricanes does have a long and interesting backstory, which you may want to read by clicking here. Essentially, giving these storms names was done to reduce confusion when more than one storm was occurring at the same time, and up until 1978, tropical storms were named solely after women. In 1978 this was revoked, and storms began to be given both male and female names. Pondering the name of this past weekend's hurricane, and the origin of naming hurricanes in general, was something I did as I hunkered down during this past weekends storm.


I also used the "hunkering opportunity" in another area related to names. I used the time to make progress on my Name Tag Project, a project which I introduced in a previous blog post that you may refer to by clicking here. As you may recall, dear reader, there has been a brief follow-up on this project, which you may refer to by clicking here. In that follow-up, I mentioned that I had "four down and forty to go", referring to the  amount of name tagging that still needed to be done (after already doing forty-seven) for the herbs, vines, flowers, plants, trees and shrubs which I grow in my terrace garden. Most of the name tags have been completed by Jennie at this juncture, and the things which grow in my garden are "wearing them"; but photographing them became impossible with the inclement weather we have been experiencing in New York such as heavy, heavy rainfall (discussed in a blog post which you may refer to by clicking here) followed by this weekend's Hurricane Irene.
Having said that, I have put seven more name tagged items on Flickr; as evidenced by the thumbnails seen in the photograph posted below:

The new additions are as follows:

#1.Ophipogon planiscapus AKA Black Mondo Grass (the third of the triplets finally is recognized in The Name Tag Project on Flickr)
#2. Lavandula angustifolia  AKA English Lavender (one of my angustifoia twins is now in the The Name Tag Project on Flickr)
#3. Allium schoenoprasum AKA Chives (one of my schoenoprasum twins is now in The Name Tag Project on Flickr)
#4. Aristida stricta AKA Wire Grass (one of my stricta twins is now in The Name Tag Project on Flickr)
#5. Spicey Basil (one of my "spicey" twins is now in The Name Tag Project on Flickr)
#6. Thymus vulgaris AKA English Thyme (one of my vulgaris twins is now in The Name Tag Project Flickr),
And lastly for today's update:  
#7.White Swan Echinacea has now joined The Name Tag Project on Flickr, however, the Echinacea has a set of its own (don't tell the other things that grow in my garden or they will all want their own set, which, btw, a number of them will be getting anyway)


Now I only have twenty-nine to go! Meanwhile, all the aforementioned may be viewed along with other photographs in the Name Tag Project by going to my Flickr pages which can be accessed by clicking here.


Names are very important to me, and I am by no means playing favorites with the things which I grow in my garden, regarding any order of the process for my giving them their name tags, and subsequently photographing them before their ultimate upload to Flickr.


One of the things which inspired me to focus on names is a literary piece by Sandra Cisneros (from The House on Mango Street), which she calls a "lazy poem".  It goes like this:


"In English my name means hope. In Spanish it means too many letters. It means sadness, it means waiting. It is like the number nine. A muddy color. It is the Mexican records my father plays on Sunday mornings when he is shaving, songs like sobbing.


"It was my great-grandmother's name and now it is mine. She was a horse woman too, born like me in the Chinese year of the horse — which is supposed to be bad luck if you're born female — but I think it is a Chinese lie because the Chinese, like the Mexicans, don't like their women strong . . .


"At school they say my name funny as if the syllables were made out of tin and hurt the roof of your mouth. But in Spanish my name is made out of a softer something. like silver, not quite as thick as sister's name — Magdalena — which is uglier than mine. Magdalena who at least can come home and become Nenny. But I am always Esperanza.


"I would like to baptize myself under a new name, a name more like the real me, the one nobody sees. Esperanza as Lisandra or Maritza or Zeze the X. Yes. Something like Zeze the X will do."


Zeze the X, sounds good to me too, and I suspect that some of my herbs, plants, flowers, vines, shrubs, and trees would agree, but for now I think they are happy to have their name tags, especially the ones that are on Flickr.


In keeping with my "policy" of giving the things which I grow in my terrace garden equal treatment,  I hope to spend the remaining part of the day finishing the photographing of those who have their name tags, which total twelve; and after that,  Jennie has sixteen more tags to make, so please stay tuned for updates on this project.


Meanwhile, I hope, dear reader, that you were unscathed by Hurricane Irene, and I'd love to hear about your experiences with this storm: prep, hunkering down or otherwise.