Alberta arises like a silken kimono unfurling beneath a rose-tinted moon, its name echoing the old Germanic Adalbert—adal, “noble,” and beraht, “bright”—yet taking on a unisex grace that transcends gender’s bounds; in its cool radiance one senses the austere elegance of a moonlit bamboo grove, each syllable (al-BUR-tuh) brushing the air with the quiet certainty of a lacquered calligraphy brush gliding over rice paper. Across continents and centuries, Alberta is at once the storied Canadian province, where amber fields shimmer under northern skies, and a tribute to Saint Albert the Great, whose luminous mind could contend with the glittering constellations. In its subtle warmth there lies the hush of a garden pond in Kyoto after rain, droplets trembling like precious gems, as though each bearer of the name carries a shard of refined brilliance—nurtured, by turns, in the lantern glow of history and the silent poetry of dawn’s first light.
| Alberta Williams King - |