Wednesday, November 07, 2012

Wednesday, November 7th



As we made our daily trip to Penticton today, up through the valley bottom where the trees are still brilliant with autumn shades, we climbed to higher altitudes where a strong wind has thinned the leaves on the deciduous tree and in some cases scattered all the ground beneath them with gold.

At the highest point of the pass the beautiful bones of the alder and aspen are filagree lace, silhouetted against the darkness of the evergreen hills.

I was reminded of Mary Oliver and her beautiful "Lines Written in the Days of Growing Darkness".

Every year we have been
witness to it: how the
world descends
 
into a rich mash, in order that
it may resume.
And therefore
who would cry out
 
to the petals on the ground
to stay
knowing as we must,
how the vivacity of what was is married
 
to the vitality of what will be?
I don't say it's easy, but
what else will do
 
if the love one claims to have for the world
be true?
So let us go on, cheerfully enough,
this and every crisping day.
 
though the sun be swinging east,
and the ponds be cold and black,
and the sweets of the year be doomed.

And I thought about how these words are so relevant to the November of our lifetime

6 comments:

Reader Wil said...

Somebody said that autumn is like spring colourful. I always think that the colours of spring are. More innocent and promising , while the colours of autumn are full of wisdom and knowledge.
How is your husband Hildred?
I hope the two of you are doing well.
Wil.

Hildred and Charles said...

Good words, Wil, - thank you for them.
Charles is fighting a blood infection and some lingering post-op delirium, but yesterday morning his eyes were brighter than I have seen them in a long while, and so we hope and pray.

The Weaver of Grass said...

Thinking of you Hildred and sending you my love and to Charles too. What inspiring words you have written - I had not heard them before.

Sallie (FullTime-Life) said...

Thinking of you both. Thank you for the beautiful words that I will treasure. (Both Mary O's beautiful poem and your own actually!)

Barb said...

I've been thinking of you and Charles, Hildred. Take Care. Oliver's poem does ring true.

Dimple said...

Hi Hildred,
I am glad to read that Charles is perking up some.

Beautiful photo, and your words, also.

Blessings to you both!