(no subject)

So I'm putting aside my usual hatred of Valentine's Day, and I'm reading A Parliament of Birds by Geoffrey Chaucer, the poem that started it all.

(Except Chaucer meant Saint Valentine of Genoa's Day, which was May 2nd, not the Saint Valentine of indeterminate origin - Rome, Terni, or Tunisia/Libya/Algeria - on February 14. Some think a dim memory of Lupercalia influenced the move.)

Here are some of the lines that made the holiday, from A Parliament of Birds, in 1382:

And in a launde, upon a hille of floures Was set this noble goddesse, Nature Of branches were hir halles and hir boures Ywrought, aftir hir crafte and hir mesure; Ne ther nas foule the cometh of engendrure That thei ne were prest in hir presence To take hir dome and yeve hir audience. For this was on seynt Valentynes day, Whan every foule cometh there to chese his make, Of every kynde that man thynke may...

And in a meadow, upon a hill of flowers Was set this noble goddess Nature Of branches were her halls and her bowers Wrought by her craft and measure; There wasn't a bird born That didn't hury into her presence To hear her judgement and give her audience For this was on Saint Valentine's Day When every bird came there to choose his mate, Of every species man might think of...

Nature then plays matchmaker for all the birds, which makes a lot more sense in May than February.

Me, like most of my friends I don't have much to celebrate today, except that chocolate will be cheap tomorrow.