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May. 29th, 2012 09:56 am
3G-powered banter
What the hell: That botanicoetymologicomusical conversation at Buck's is worth expanding on a bit.
As per our wont (and thanks to Nuphy's early arrival), we had secured one of the two tables on the back deck, with a commanding view of the patio and easy access to the main trafficway. At this point, we were six: JP and his hubby had shortly joined me,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu, our former boarder, and Nuphy. The place was filling up, so several men sat down on the bench directly beside us, which abuts the surrounding fence. The fence is overhung with vines and one of the men said, "I hope that's not poison ivy."
"It isn't," I volunteered, "it's Virginia creeper."
"You must have some botanical knowledge," said one of them, a clean-shaven chaser in his early 30s.
"My father taught horticulture," I replied, "so I know some plant names."
He turned out to have a background as a naturalist. I told him about my father's recent trip to the Bootheel and he mentioned that he and his lover were heading down to St Genevieve shortly. But before all the getting-to-know you stuff, he'd asked me what the scientific name was for creeper, and I'd had to admit I didn't know.
Later, when I was distracted by another conversation, he looked it up on his phone: Parthenocissus quinquefolia. We both knew the meaning of the second term ("five-leaved"), but the generic name had us stumped. "I think the first part is 'virgin'," I volunteered and struggled to recall who the Parthenon was dedicated to. Nuphy was inconveniently absent buying drinks at the moment, and I told my new buddy, "He'll know for sure, he minored in Greek."
He did know which virgin goddess the Parthenon was named for. (Athena--how could I have forgotten that after only two drinks?) But "cissus" had him as baffled as we were until he broke out the Liddell-Scott Greek Lexicon on his phone and discovered that it was a Latinisation of κισσός "ivy". So "five-leaved virgin ivy".
I couldn't think what the origin of that could be unless it was a reference to parthenogenesis, which naturally recalls for me the chorus of the Shriekback song "Nemesis". I thought JP, being of my generation, would remember it, too, so I sang a line or two with the intention of bringing him into the conversation. Blank. So I spelled out the name for him to look up on YouTube, and he set his phone in the middle of the table so all of us could enjoy the cheeseriffic 80s video while I sang along for the benefit of those who might've had trouble making out the lyrics. (Oddly, the outdoor speakers were not on, prompting one of the employees passing our table to say, "Finally, some music out here!")
Oh, why not:
[Apologies for the gratuitous Tracy Morgan.]
As per our wont (and thanks to Nuphy's early arrival), we had secured one of the two tables on the back deck, with a commanding view of the patio and easy access to the main trafficway. At this point, we were six: JP and his hubby had shortly joined me,
monshu, our former boarder, and Nuphy. The place was filling up, so several men sat down on the bench directly beside us, which abuts the surrounding fence. The fence is overhung with vines and one of the men said, "I hope that's not poison ivy.""It isn't," I volunteered, "it's Virginia creeper."
"You must have some botanical knowledge," said one of them, a clean-shaven chaser in his early 30s.
"My father taught horticulture," I replied, "so I know some plant names."
He turned out to have a background as a naturalist. I told him about my father's recent trip to the Bootheel and he mentioned that he and his lover were heading down to St Genevieve shortly. But before all the getting-to-know you stuff, he'd asked me what the scientific name was for creeper, and I'd had to admit I didn't know.
Later, when I was distracted by another conversation, he looked it up on his phone: Parthenocissus quinquefolia. We both knew the meaning of the second term ("five-leaved"), but the generic name had us stumped. "I think the first part is 'virgin'," I volunteered and struggled to recall who the Parthenon was dedicated to. Nuphy was inconveniently absent buying drinks at the moment, and I told my new buddy, "He'll know for sure, he minored in Greek."
He did know which virgin goddess the Parthenon was named for. (Athena--how could I have forgotten that after only two drinks?) But "cissus" had him as baffled as we were until he broke out the Liddell-Scott Greek Lexicon on his phone and discovered that it was a Latinisation of κισσός "ivy". So "five-leaved virgin ivy".
I couldn't think what the origin of that could be unless it was a reference to parthenogenesis, which naturally recalls for me the chorus of the Shriekback song "Nemesis". I thought JP, being of my generation, would remember it, too, so I sang a line or two with the intention of bringing him into the conversation. Blank. So I spelled out the name for him to look up on YouTube, and he set his phone in the middle of the table so all of us could enjoy the cheeseriffic 80s video while I sang along for the benefit of those who might've had trouble making out the lyrics. (Oddly, the outdoor speakers were not on, prompting one of the employees passing our table to say, "Finally, some music out here!")
Oh, why not:
[Apologies for the gratuitous Tracy Morgan.]