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SeaLavender of Simmer
Jul. 22nd, 2019 09:50 pmI knew the sleep thing was too good to last. Today I woke up at 5:30 and couldn't go back to sleep. I'm having a new kind of discomfort that I don't like. One would think that starting the day so early would enable one to do all kinds of extra things! But no, because the day doesn't really start. I did some more reading, looked at Facebook, had tea and chatted with the Sparrowhawk and read him a couple of poems because he claimed he didn't remember them, although I'm sure he really did. I mean, seriously--who doesn't remember Yeats' "When You Are Old"? Come on.
Brain Pickings (a great website, by the way) led me to this quote from Emily Dickinson, writing to her beloved Susan Gilbert: "Come with me this morning to the church within our hearts, where the bells are always ringing, and the preacher whose name is Love--shall intercede for us!" It was a fresh lovely morning, and I finally motivated myself to go for a walk. What a sight greeted me at the river! The massive old willow tree by the landing, where the Sparrowhawk and I sat sometimes has crashed to the ground, rent into two or three pieces, shattered, and brought low to the earth. The air was sharp with the scent of newly split wood and the darker smell of the rot revealed at the heart of the tree. I picked my way over and under the labyrinth of fallen branches to lay my hands on the rough bark and thank the tree for standing tall and holding on for so many years.
When I told the Sparrowhawk about it, he exclaimed, "You were right!" Apparently I predicted once that the willow tree would fall, and he said, "Not in our lifetime." But one more big storm brought it down, as I feared it might. Willows are fragile when they get that big and old. In the evening, he wanted to go and see it, so we walked over there again. It missed the statue of St. Francis, who still stands there with arms outstretched as if amazed. Blooming now: bergamot, milkweed, grayheaded coneflowers, daisies, goatsbeard, blackeyed Susans, cup plant and compass plant. And daylilies. And my garden lilies, which for a long time nursed their reluctant buds, have finally decided to break loose in clusters of pink and white.
Brain Pickings (a great website, by the way) led me to this quote from Emily Dickinson, writing to her beloved Susan Gilbert: "Come with me this morning to the church within our hearts, where the bells are always ringing, and the preacher whose name is Love--shall intercede for us!" It was a fresh lovely morning, and I finally motivated myself to go for a walk. What a sight greeted me at the river! The massive old willow tree by the landing, where the Sparrowhawk and I sat sometimes has crashed to the ground, rent into two or three pieces, shattered, and brought low to the earth. The air was sharp with the scent of newly split wood and the darker smell of the rot revealed at the heart of the tree. I picked my way over and under the labyrinth of fallen branches to lay my hands on the rough bark and thank the tree for standing tall and holding on for so many years.
When I told the Sparrowhawk about it, he exclaimed, "You were right!" Apparently I predicted once that the willow tree would fall, and he said, "Not in our lifetime." But one more big storm brought it down, as I feared it might. Willows are fragile when they get that big and old. In the evening, he wanted to go and see it, so we walked over there again. It missed the statue of St. Francis, who still stands there with arms outstretched as if amazed. Blooming now: bergamot, milkweed, grayheaded coneflowers, daisies, goatsbeard, blackeyed Susans, cup plant and compass plant. And daylilies. And my garden lilies, which for a long time nursed their reluctant buds, have finally decided to break loose in clusters of pink and white.
