Sunday, March 22, 2009


I went down the hall with the express purpose of making my glasses sparkle and glow, but something distracted me and then I forgot this important aspect of Sunday morning, and I played the organ throughout the church service, seeing but darkly!

Although I think I played Amazing Grace with some elegance and emotion, inspired by Il Divo.

Afterwards, in the grocery store, it came upon me that all was not as bright as it should be, (including mine own dear self) and I resolved to clean my glasses as soon as I got home.

But alas, the little old dog met me at the door, apparently in dire need to go for a walk, - and we found the leash and the walking shoes and away we went. Only arriving back in time to get lunch, - in a haze, still darkly....

After lunch I put the telephone and the glasses beside the couch and Casper and I laid ourselves down for a small nap after the morning's musical exertions. I dreamt I lost my friend who I was taking back to the Care Facility, and I wandered in the dark looking for her in vain.

Finally I woke, gratefully, and I thought how glad I was that dreams relinquish us from their terrors and anxieties. Then I went to put the kettle on for tea, and was inspired to lighten things up with some freshly baked orange muffins.

I put on my glasses to check on the amount of baking soda in the recipe, and somehow the day lost its brightness, and became heavy, and dreary.

Casper needed to go out again, - we left the muffins in Charles' care and I took off my glasses and away we went, finding pleasure in the mildness of the afternoon and the small tufts of green showing up along the lane. In the distance there is a lovely tree that every March seems to have an aura of spring around it, long before the leaves are ready to unfurl, and as we walked it occurred to me that perhaps this encouraging phenomenon is caused by the large evergreen behind it and across the road, lending its colour to the bare branches.

We saw the quail, in pairs, skittering after each other, and two woodpeckers courted shyly in the neighbour's walnut trees.

We had tea, and sweet warm muffins, and while Charles read the paper I leafed desultorily through Theodore Roethke, looking unsuccessfully for a poem.

Carelessly, I had once again donned those dirty, filmy spotted glasses.

I lifted my head from the book and looked across the valley, where nothing was as sharp and clear as it should be. The sap is rising in the golden willows, but they were not glowing ...

Oh, ENOUGH - at last I rose and found the glass cleaning spray, and polished those spectacles within an infinitesimal inch of disintegration.

Our nice Welsh preacher this morning spoke about God's gift of the Grace of Endurance, but I felt somewhat unappreciative of this gift today, - a whole grey day when the Gifts of Awareness and Common Sense would have saved me from its dreariness.

Tomorrow I will wear my rose coloured glasses, and search in the garden for more signs of spring.

2 comments:

The Weaver of Grass said...

I'm sorry - my brain just cannot cope with that - but that shot at the beginning is quite something!
If you like textile art go and have a look at www.saskia.weishut.com I think you will enjoy it. Let me know what you think to it.

Hildred and Charles said...

Thank you for this Weaver. I am continually astounded at the breadth and beauty of blogland, but this work is so beautiful and passionate. I have admired the piece you posted recently as well. I have been a weaver since the 1960's, and try to see fabric through the eye of an artist, but nothing in weaving that I have yet seen compares with this...I have kept it open to go back and feast....