Not Much Gusto

   

I have been thinking about this word, this prompt of the week:  gusto.

It sounds as if it ought to be part of a magician's spell:

     Abracadabra, presto gusto
     Eye of newt and mote of dust(o),
     May you always pine and lust(o)

     After one you cannot trust(o)

It could also be a spell to raise the wind:

     Presto gusto
     push and thrust(o)
     Scatter and shatter
     Rattle and clatter
     Ram the rooftops,
     Raise the dust(o).


Gusto could  also be the name of a friendly golden retriever.

Or the nickname of a boy named Gustav.





Really, though, it is gusto that I lack during these long winter months.  I have of late but -  wherefore I know not -  lost all my mirth; forgone all custom of exercise...

If a warm cave, lit by gentle firelight, were to present itself, I would gladly crawl into it and sleep until spring. Except that, out here in the Southwest mountains, spring generally means high winds smacking you in the face every time you go out and only a few imported flowers and fruit trees blooming courageously under the weight of a late snowfall. Summers, though, are pleasant especially after the monsoon season brings moisture, in the form of thunderstorms, to the brown and shriveled land. Then the native flowers burst into bloom. Subterranean streams rise out of the earth. The leaves of the cottonwood and the aspen shimmer greenly, gladly in the long light.

















The word, gusto, derives from the Latin word meaning "a tasting." And from thence into Spanish -- e.g., con mucho gusto, or with great pleasure.

Par ejemplo:  Quieres dormir hasta el verano?  (Do you want to sleep until summer?)

Si, con mucho gusto.