Time – a cascade of water falling backwards
First the rush
Those dull days of childhood boredom – are we nearly there yet? how much longer? can we go now?
Suddenly middle age and it’s barely dripping
Sunday morning seemed too beautiful to go to my usual yoga class, particularly as the forecast said it wouldn’t last. Passed this field of hay bales full of yellow prickly sow thistle (thank you internet).
After hours of walking, we arrived home, I grabbed the washing, and the rain came down moments later. Just felt like, for once, I was doing the apposite thing for that moment.
Thanks to Robin. Arrgh wish I’d brought my camera, I said. He produced his out of his pocket.
Grrr. The day is FRENZIED. I sprint to yoga to find the class already full. Trudge to bus stop. Miss bus by a breath. Next one arrives 20 minutes late. Go to the Co-op for dinner supplies. The self service tills overcharge me for my sweetcorn.
So the assistant clears one, giving me two for the price of one. This takes me below the £5 spend I need to get a sticker – we’re collecting for a toy for our nephew. ‘Can I still have one?’ I ask. ‘The promotion ends this week and I’m borderline on getting enough.’ He asks, ‘How many do you still need?’ ‘Five’ I answer. He gives me five.
“Gentleness is everywhere in daily life, a sign that faith rules through ordinary things: through cooking and small talk, through storytelling, making love, fishing, tending animals and sweetcorn and flowers, through sports, music and books, raising kids – all the places where the gravy soaks in and grace shines through…one never has to look far to see the campfires of gentle people.” (Garrison Keillor)
Thanks to Isabel Eyre. I meant to photograph the actual cobs I bought. But I forgot and ate them (yum).
I remember being taught about yellow, red and blue being primary colours at School – primary “because these colours were believed capable of mixing all other colours”. I never managed this in practice in painting and Wikipedia tells me that this is from erroneous 18th century colour theory, making me wonder how much else I was taught was untrue.
taken in Seaview towards the end of our long trudge from Shanklin to Ryde.
As a child I was taught to draw six-pointed stars – two intersecting triangles – and colour them yellow. But as I looked up at the stars the other night they didn’t look yellow at all.
I’m thinking about being in the moment and wondering what the moment actually is. My head reminds me with Elizabeth Jennings that my now is not the stars’.
“The radiance of the star that leans on me
Was shining years ago. The light that now
Glitters up there my eyes may never see,
And so the time lag teases me with how
Love that loves now may not reach me until
Its first desire is spent. The star’s impulse
Must wait for eyes to claim it beautiful
And love arrived may find us somewhere else.”