But paler for a moment
Like the cup of water
With the brush that has been dipped in azure
But only briefly.
The locust trees on either side
-fanned out black leaves
Subdued by dusk,
By the stillness
I watch the watered blue sky
Slowing becoming the night-black spaces
Between the trees. J.Hamilton
Have fallen on the stone steps.
I have walked down this path a hundred times
And never noticed
How fast they fall
How soon they fade.
I might put them
In the empty jam jar
Whose glass surface
Has been painted with
Acrylic purple violets.
Or I may
Slip them between
The lonely pages
Of a book instead.
A reminder that all beautiful things which die too soon
Will be born again.
In Solitude we are least alone. -Lord Byron
Today I spent some precious moments alone with my thoughts, in my garden. I cut the grass, pulled weeds and examined all the plants and flowers that are ecstatically growing and budding. These moments of solitude are sacred. I am alone and not alone at the same time. My garden is awake and thriving and I am surrounded by birds, squirrels and rabbits. A lone bumble bee circled me today because it didn’t like me working near its flowers. I admired its boldness and carried on with other garden work, while listening to the song of birds, smelling the perfume of lilies of the valley, and taking in all the colours, shapes and shadows around me. Solitude creates a special connection to our inner thoughts and to the immediate world around us.
This afternoon as I walked with my children in the sunshine, I stumbled upon my old haunts. We journeyed to my childhood home, and I pointed to where my mother once planted marigolds and to the tree I loved, which stood on the other side of the fence.
I took my children to the tiny treed playground, next to my house. My children played in the swings, where the sunlight fell, and tried to see, who could touch the sky the fastest. Strangely, enough, I had been dreaming about this place. Haunting dreams. To return to my childhood home with my children, gave me peace and happiness. I knew those strange dreams, would become replaced with new happy dreams. The place where I wandered as a child, had become a healing place.
After we left my dwelling place, I strolled past the high school I loved as well as the foot worn path I had journeyed along, to and from school. We kept walking until we crossed the field that belonged to the elementary school I had detested as a child. But at the far end of the field, the orchard where I had spent many childhood hours, was still there. It was the place where I would escape to at recess to find peace and solace. It was the place with the secret path to the other side where tree-lined streets stood, with tidy lawns and quiet houses. I often followed the path to the land away from the confines of a school where I felt i didn’t belong.
As I cut through the beautiful orchard with my children, to the other side, I smiled. There was peace now.