Showing posts with label Austrian Poet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Austrian Poet. Show all posts

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Naming a Crater on Mercury

I did. Well, not yet, but I entered a competition to 'immortalize an important person in the Arts and Humanities from any nation or cultural group by having a crater on the planet Mercury named in their honor!' We'll know the winners (there are many craters that need names) in March or April.

It's one of those things you find diddling around the Internet. Of course, I couldn't resist and named Peter Rosegger. Peter Who?

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From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia -
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Rosegger




Portrait of Peter Rosegger


Peter Rosegger (31 July 1843 – 26 June 1918) was an Austrian poet from the province of Styria.

He was a son of a farmer and grew up in the forests and fields. Rosegger (or Rossegger) went on to become a most productive poet and author as well as an insightful teacher and visionary.

In his later years, he was honoured by officials from various Austrian universities and the city of Graz (the capital of Styria). He was nearly awarded the Nobel Prize in 1913 and is (at least among the people of Styria) something like a national hero to this day.




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You may or may not know, I was born in Graz/Styria (yes, Arnold, too -- you are not saying: Arnold Who?).

And so, I though that our most beloved poet/writer should have his own crater - especially since he was nearly awarded the Nobel Prize.


When I was in second grade, I remember our class outing to Rosegger's birthplace.

First, we went in a rickety old bus (it was 1949) to the valley below. Then it was a two-hour hike (we were just little kids with an apple and a hunk of cheese in our rucksack for lunch).

Across alpine meadows crewel-worked with blue gentian, yellow buttercups and tiny white margaritas, past grazing cows and through stands of old trees.



At last, tuckered out with blisters from ill-fitting post-war shoes, we stood facing the tiny house, practically tiptoeing through the even tinier dark rooms. Perhaps it was then that the seed for writing took hold deep within me...who knows.



Nowadays, the tourists come by the busload right up to the house where they can rest, eat and still their thirst at a typical Gasthof.







Competition is closed - but you can read more about this fun project - and do keep your fingers crossed for me. I think it would really be something if the powers that be chose Peter Rosegger, my Austrian poet.

Find out more here:
http://namecraters.carnegiescience.edu/home