In January I recorded in my bedside notebook:
Looking out at the black, bare branches on a thick, white sky. I love this small outlook onto rooftops and trees. Though I never see people, it makes me feel less alone, as though I am out there, a part of that piece of landscape, and the fact of my being grounded here doesn’t matter so much.
Today is the first of August, and I record:
The branches most visible to me are still black, and the sky is thick and white. I think the rain will never stop. But today I would not, in any case, know what to do with a blue and golden day, especially if it were hot. The rain and sky are therefore a kindness to me, they cover me like a blanket, similar to the light duvet I am lying under now. I spoke to a friend who is recovering from cancer. She had been out for a morning walk and the lake, the people with their dogs and all the morning runners, all the life in the park, was beautiful. Life was beautiful. Yes, I said, and yes.
6 comments:
The sabbatical from your blog is obviously doing you good: more time to ponder and consider in what seems a more natural way (at least to we over 50s [all right I know you're really 21]) than bashing away at a keyboard. Lovely pieces of writing
Snuggle back under the covers .....
Yea, you are still around!
;-)
And ditto to what Cusp said.
...and yes, is what I say too.
Yes.
Today is August 7, and if it were a blue and gold day, I would get into a canoe and find a hidden river behind the island where the wild horses are, and look for things in the reeds.
If it were a rainy day, I'd wear a slicker, and make sure the sandwiches were water-proofed.
Alas, it is neither.
It is a day epagomenal.
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