BrambledBriar of Leave
Oct. 16th, 2024 09:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoThe colors of fall were intensely beautiful today. The sun was at just the right angle to illuminate the glowing trees as if from within. Unfortunately, my response to all this splendor was not to glow but to ache. My glow from within was a glow of embers and ash for the time that has burned. Like Treebeard, I long to be in the woods where I once walked, but even if I could roll away the miles, I could not turn back the time.
I was sharing the view with Madame as we drove along. She was astonished by the red of the maples. She said she didn't remember the trees ever being so brilliant. Honestly, I don't either! I forget each year how splendid it was last fall. This is nice because it's a lovely surprise every time. I felt that Madame was not having a good day today. She was agitated and anxious over every little thing this morning. The cause may have been the fact that Mademoiselle wants her to have a new recliner. Mademoiselle thinks the old one is so decrepit as to be positively dangerous, and also too hard for her to get in and out of. I've noticed that any kind of change is agitating to people with dementia. The world is already too much out of control. They don't like more things to become different. The new chair sounds as if it will be quite an improvement. It has heating, a massage feature, and remote control! But old things are still the best, in the minds of old people. But she's going to get a new chair anyway, like it or not. I sympathize with the plight of young caregivers who see improvements to be made everywhere. And yet there is something heartless in their uncomprehending eagerness to carry their charges forward into a future they'd prefer not to enter. There's no solution to this problem. It just is the way it is.
As Tolkien said, via Treebeard:
In the willow-meads of Tasarinan I walked in the Spring.
Ah! the sight and the smell of the Spring in Nan-tasarion!
And I said that was good.
I wandered in Summer in the elm-woods of Ossiriand.
Ah! the light and the music in the Summer by the Seven Rivers of Ossir!
And I thought that was best.
To the beeches of Neldoreth I came in the Autumn.
Ah! the gold and the red and the sighing of leaves in the Autumn in Taur-na-neldor!
It was more than my desire.
To the pine-trees upon the highland of Dorthonion I climbed in the Winter.
Ah! the wind and the whiteness and the black branches of Winter upon Orod-na-Thôn!
My voice went up and sang in the sky.
And now all those lands lie under the wave,
And I walk in Ambaróna, in Tauremorna, in Aldalómë,
In my own land, in the country of Fangorn,
Where the roots are long,
And the years lie thicker than the leaves
In Tauremornalómë.
I was sharing the view with Madame as we drove along. She was astonished by the red of the maples. She said she didn't remember the trees ever being so brilliant. Honestly, I don't either! I forget each year how splendid it was last fall. This is nice because it's a lovely surprise every time. I felt that Madame was not having a good day today. She was agitated and anxious over every little thing this morning. The cause may have been the fact that Mademoiselle wants her to have a new recliner. Mademoiselle thinks the old one is so decrepit as to be positively dangerous, and also too hard for her to get in and out of. I've noticed that any kind of change is agitating to people with dementia. The world is already too much out of control. They don't like more things to become different. The new chair sounds as if it will be quite an improvement. It has heating, a massage feature, and remote control! But old things are still the best, in the minds of old people. But she's going to get a new chair anyway, like it or not. I sympathize with the plight of young caregivers who see improvements to be made everywhere. And yet there is something heartless in their uncomprehending eagerness to carry their charges forward into a future they'd prefer not to enter. There's no solution to this problem. It just is the way it is.
As Tolkien said, via Treebeard:
In the willow-meads of Tasarinan I walked in the Spring.
Ah! the sight and the smell of the Spring in Nan-tasarion!
And I said that was good.
I wandered in Summer in the elm-woods of Ossiriand.
Ah! the light and the music in the Summer by the Seven Rivers of Ossir!
And I thought that was best.
To the beeches of Neldoreth I came in the Autumn.
Ah! the gold and the red and the sighing of leaves in the Autumn in Taur-na-neldor!
It was more than my desire.
To the pine-trees upon the highland of Dorthonion I climbed in the Winter.
Ah! the wind and the whiteness and the black branches of Winter upon Orod-na-Thôn!
My voice went up and sang in the sky.
And now all those lands lie under the wave,
And I walk in Ambaróna, in Tauremorna, in Aldalómë,
In my own land, in the country of Fangorn,
Where the roots are long,
And the years lie thicker than the leaves
In Tauremornalómë.
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Date: 2024-10-17 02:21 pm (UTC)