Sometimes a random grouping of stamps will seem to appeal to a fellow (or lady) for no particular reason at all. Philately as “found art,” if you will — all that’s left to do is frame it!

Other times you’ll look at an apparently random grouping of stamps on a recovered scrap of envelope and realize that there’s something else at work. Take, for example, this one:

To me, this grouping is far from innocent; it parses it something like “Mary Lyon + Buffalo Bill Cody = Love.” Am I reaching here? See, it’s the “school marm” and the cowboy; I don’t see how this isn’t a match made in (Louis L’Amour’s version of) heaven. Here, we have a rooster, and Hubert H. Humphrey:

Or, is “Saint- Hubert” perhaps more appropriate?

Okay, that last one is a bit of a stretch. And sure, these postage puns are really just random coincidences, happenstance convergences of a person’s own symbolic vocabulary. But it might be worth a double take next time you look in your mailbox, just to be sure you’re not missing anything.

Well, Ottawa’s been the capital for 150 years now. And nobody knows how to commemorate quite like our dear friends at Canada Post:

Of course, as far as Ottawa’s status as the national capital goes, it was touch and go there for a while. Anyhow, lately I’ve been noticing a few signs suggesting that I’ve been in Ottawa for too long (or is it just long enough?). You know, these sorts of things:

• I now like Schawarma,
• I know where to find a place to eat downtown that’s actually open past 9:00 (or should I say 2100h?),
• I also know where most of the largest potholes are (some of which are so blatantly bad that if they damage your car, the City will cover the mechanic’s bill!),
• the names of myriad neighbourhoods (Glebe, Westboro, Centretown, Market, Sandy Hill, etc.) no longer confuse me,
• I now appreciate treat two-way streets as a rare luxury, and actually dream about light rail (seriously!),
• I enjoy listening to CBC radio (it’s not just for old people anymore), and finally
• I don’t mind giving government contracts to my friends, then overlooking it when they send in exorbitant bills for non-existent work, because I know if I crack jokes in court I’ll get off scot-free!

OK, so the last one is a bit of a stretch, but you get the idea.

I have another intersection between poetry and philately for you to consider. This here’s a ’92 issue (from Britain) commemorating the centenary of Lord Alfred Tennyson’s death. The stamps feature likenesses of a progressively older poet:

“O earth, what changes hast thou seen!”

Now, I wondered if the women incorporated into the design here were in some way related to Tennyson’s poetry. Their likenesses are in fact taken from paintings from around that period (nineteenth century). You can get the details here.

As you might expect, they are all connected to Tennyson’s work in some way. Artist John Waterhouse, whose I am Sick of the Shadows is featured alongside the 1864 representation, is probably best known for his painting of the Lady of Shallot (which was doubtless inspired by Tennyson’s poem). Her absence here is a mystery… although after a bit more digging, it turns out that Shadows is also a propos — it actually depicts a certain scene from Tennyson’s poem. Something about weaving.

Rossetti’s painting Mariana (shown alongside the portrait of the youngest Tennyson) could perhaps be alluding to Tennyson’s poem of the same name, but Rossetti himself wrote a poem titled Mariana as well. It is noted here that Rossetti illustrated a collection of Tennyson’s poetry published in 1857 (which did not include Mariana), so I guess they had some history of association.

Arthur Hughes apparently coupled April Love (1856) with a stanza from Tennyson’s poem the Miller’s Daugher. Hughes produced drawings for Tennyson’s Enoch Arden as well.

And finally, Sir Edward Burne-Jones’s the Beguiling of Merlin (accompanying the oldest Tennyson) is a reference to Tennyson’s Idylls of the King. He also created a memorial window at St. Bartholomew’s Church in Haselmere after Tennyson’s death. Tennyson himself spent seventeen years working on In Memoriam, an extensive poem written after the death of a close friend. It’s good to see folks doing him the same turn in their own ways.

I came across this one today:

It’s a 1898 issue featuring a wonderful map (multicolored to boot — which was a first in Canadian postage), reminding us of a time when the British empire really did span the four corners of the earth. (If you’re interested, you can check out a more detailed version right here.)

Interestingly, it’s noted here that the empire indicated on the stamp “is ‘vaster’ than reality. German South Africa, Portuguese East Africa and the Republics of Transvaal and the Orange Free State, and Borneo are colored red, but were not British.” So, it’s not only the printer’s fault that the red dye migrates a little (you can see how it overlaps here and there); it looks like the cartographer has a hand in it as well.

The stamp also features a quotation: “WE HOLD A VASTER EMPIRE THAN HAS BEEN.” Apparently, this is taken from Sir Lewis Morris’ “Song of Empire,” a poem written to celebrate Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee (June 20, 1887). Try as I might, I couldn’t find the poem online.

I came across this pair a while ago:

The two stamps are basically the same but appear to be issued from different countries. Depicted are King George and Queen Elizabeth, and judging from the dates given (1923 – 1948), the stamps commemorate the Royal Silver Anniversary. Naively, I wondered if this might be a case of philatelic piracy. Suspicions were dismissed, however, after a quick search; it seems that this a commonwealth-wide issue. You can view other countries’ incarnations here.

On a side note, a source indicated that Swaziland and Seychelles did in fact release a joint issue at one point, in recognition of John Paul II.

So, last Saturday we went struck out on Kemptville Creek, more or less in the name of (citizen) science. Here’s a map from Google Earth of the stretch we paddled:

We basically travelled from the bottom-left corner to the top- right one.

We started off (as we often do) at the bridge in Bishops Mills, and went downstream as far as the Highway 20 bridge. Water levels seemed to be high lately, but the gauge at the latter bridge put the level at “1″ (units unclear). Anyhow, the creek was high enough that we didn’t have to worry about bumping into any underwater obstructions while diligently scanning the skies and shores for species. We had a HOBO trailing in the water and another in the boat for the duration of the trip, and while the water temperature seemed to be steady around 16C over the course of our paddle (roughly three hours), while the air temperature dropped about by about 5C (25C -> 20C). It was a beautiful day for a paddle… funny how the first jaunt of the year coincides with first mosquito bites of the year. Can’t have one without the other, I guess.

But enough of that for now; let’s get to the BioBlitz species count. By the by, it looks like there’s been quite a bit of interest in the project — there are almost 50 participants signed up so far. For fun, I’ve included philatelic representations of species in my account where appropriate! Plenty of photos too, for the kids.

To begin, we noticed great numbers (~12) of the Common Grackle (Quiscalus quiscula). Mallard Ducks (Anas platyrhynchos) were also out en force, and we probably observed half a dozen mating pairs. The odd Red-Winged Blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) crossed our path as well.

As novices, we were bound to end up playing one of the best games you can play in a canoe: “Muskrat or Beaver?” The Muskrats (Ondatra zibethicus) we saw were only confidently identified as such after we came across what was obviously a Beaver (Castor canadensis) — which is noticeably larger, and has a distinctive face. At a distance, though, it can be hard to tell which is which.

We also passed by an unfortunate (and by that I mean “dead”) Racoon (Procyon lotor) who was peaceably floating along. Speaking of floating, there were Leopard Frogs (Rana pipiens) all over the place,

… along with an Egg Clump of unknown origin.

Fred headed out later on to see if he could get an idea where the Leopard Frog chorus was located, and while by the bridge where we started out he noticed a Northern Water Snake (Nerodia sipedon). Hmm.

Along the way, we collected some shells (or should I say “freshwater invertebrates?”) which have since been identified as Bulimnea megasoma and Helisoma trivolvus. Also some Gyraulus, but I don’t know exactly which species we’re looking at here.

Not only did we see stuff, we also heard stuff. We paddled through some rather vocal frog choruses, both Leopard Frogs and Spring Peepers (Pseudacris crucifer). At one point the calls surrounding the canoe were almost deafening — seems like it’s going to be a good year for the frogs.We also heard what we believe to be a Red-tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis). We did not hear the well known “kee-eer” descending scream, but rather an unusual “upslurred” one. You can listen to the calls here. Also audible was some woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus?) activity. We didn’t actually see the bird, so its species remains unknown.

(That’s a Pileated Woodpecker on the far-right!)

As far as plants go, I don’t have much to identify here. We came across many different kinds of moss and lichen, though. I have little hope of identifying them, however. Nevertheless, I’ll pass on a few photos… there’s a photogenic old wooden bridge that is host to a multitude of species.

Now, one of my favourite bits of this stretch of creek is a swampy area filled with Red Maple (Acer rubrum, also known as Swamp Maple, appropriately enough). The water level was high enough that we could paddle among the trees, which afforded some neat views. It always reminds me of that awesome arboreal level in Myst…

You can see that the Red Maples are just coming into their glory at this time of year:

On a side note, I might point out that the Red Maple was featured on a 1994 Canada Day issue:

Of course, any good trip down the creek wouldn’t be complete without the requisitite curiosities. This time we found a sorely deflated basket ball, a hubcap from an old cadillac, and an old election sign (“Vote for Sandra Lawn!”)… well, if it’s for PC it probably belongs on the bottom of a creek anyhow.

Last week (March 15, 2007, to be more specific) CP recognized Canadian realist painter Mary Pratt with the latest issue of its continuing Art Canada series. Here’s a taste:

“Realist” indeed! It’s only after taking a close look at paintings such as “Jelly Shelf” (pictured on the left) that you’re able to tell that it isn’t a photograph. Pratt goes as far as erasing all traces of her brushstrokes to accomplish the photorealistic effect. An interesting aside: Pratt painted much of “Iceberg in the North Atlantic” using a Windex bottle filled with blue paint.

Her artistic philosophy is simple — as she puts it, “my role seems to have been to make people see things that are around them all the time that they never noticed before…”

While the paintings chosen for the issue are clearly wonderful, I’m a little leery of the design of the sheet itself; the “horizontal-bar” motif, which seems at odds with Pratt’s style, just doesn’t do if for me.

On a different note, last year Canada Post introduced “Permanent domestic stamps,” which have no specific postage value printed on them. Basically, they are good for life — there’s no need to supplement them with additional postage when the rates increase.

Will this have an effect on the number of new issues released in the future? I’m not sure, but what I do know is that it presents an interesting opportunity to “stock up” — while these permanent issues are immune to changes in postal rates, they will no doubt be affected by increases in price; for the opportunistic philatelic investor, the thing to do would be purchase a load of these sheets at the current price, and then re-sell when the price inevitably goes up — “buy low, sell high,” right?

I would be all over this, but my “resources” are tied up in Elvis Presley collector’s plates at the moment. Any day now, these babies are gonna make me rich! Well now, speaking of the King, why not dredge a little something out of the archives… This US issue was released on January 8 (Elvis’ birthday), 1993, and was accompanied with a little controversy; for one thing, the American public had been asked to choose which representation to feature on the stamp, and apparently there was some debate among members of Congress as to whether or not Elvis should be on a stamp in the first place (details right here). Anyhow, here’s what we ended up with:

Handsome devil, ain’t he?

I’m kind of late on this one — the sheet shown below is part of a eight-country issue (February 12, 2007) coinciding with the fourth International Polar Year. Canada’s contribution is quite striking, and I couldn’t resist picking it up as I was passing by the post office this afternoon. Pictured are a male king eider (Somateria spectabtilus, native to Canada, circumpolar) and a recently discovered species of deep-sea jellyfish (Crossota millsaeare):

This is one of the more educational issues in recent memory; using some nifty information design, the souvenir sheet depicts the polar ice’s decrease in both thickness and area. Also neat is the maple-leaf perforation in the centre.

For more information about the International Polar Year, check out www.ipy-api.ca or www.ipy.org. Worth a look is the Canadian IPY Interactive Mapping Server (CANIPY IMS), which has the locations of different research stations and communities involved in IPY work.

(With information from Details Vol. XVI No. 1)

…probably shouldn’t throw stones either.

On a side note, I read today that the original proverb can be traced back to Chaucer’s “Troilus & Criseyde”: Who that hath an hed of verre, Fro cast of stones war hym in the werre!

Hmm, I think I may have something vaguely intriguing for you today. Be warned, though, that this post is about postage stamps.

* * *

Well, diligent reader, let me begin: many of the stamps I have accumulated over the years have been passed on by the few thoughtful folk aware of my philatelic predilection. And so, every now and then one of these kind souls will hand over a few months’ or years’ worth of stamps.

Anyhow, while sifting through one of these packets the other day, I noticed a particularly handsome issue from Éire (Ireland). Dated 1991, the stamp’s subject was a small fishing boat, and the text “LOINGEAS IASCAIREACHTA” was printed along the bottom of the frame (What does that mean? I don’t know). But as the sifting continued, I noticed another copy of the stamp. And another, and — how about that? — yet another.

What caught my interest was not, however, the pretty pictures of boats (although that, typically, is enough to catch my interest); on these speciments, the original sender of the letters had actually written on the inside of the envelope. My leftovers, therefore, contained not only the stamps, but also scraps of correspondence. Here’s an image of the fronts & backs — take a look:

This batch was the first group I noticed, as the typewritten message had bled through the paper envelope, and was clearly visible on the other side. There’s also another batch, written not in type but in cursive hand. These I did not notice until after collecting the typewritten samples — at which point I started examining the backs of the stamps too:

Interesting, hmm? The appeal here, I suppose, is really in the “collected stamp as found art object.” The fragments of text, especially in the first (typewritten) example, are almost poetic. Taken as a whole, this lot is, to me, a curiosity. Why would the sender write directly on the envelope? Is it a paper-saving measure? Why are some typed and others written long- hand? Many more questions too, but of course I’m left guessing. Which is part of the fun, after all.