APRIL SUNSET AND MAY THOUGHTS 1975

1975 APRIL THOUGHTS, A SETTING SUN, AND INTO MAY
April 27, 1975
At Prom Park on a cold, showery Opening Weekend. Miss Jo, having accepted the night shift, is ensconced in the bedroom where she’s staying for the season. We’re also working on Paige’s prom dress. I cut it out Friday night and Jo’s started on it already! I’ll make the jacket later in the week.
Driving home last night, I was treated to one of the loveliest sunset I’ve ever seen. Every turn of the road brought a new perspective. The panoramic cloudscape with its subtle coloration would have delighted Constable. The pale blue sky hosted clouds ranging from dark to purest white—the lightest gradually suffused with a glowing peach, while the underside of the heavier ones were edged with palest orchid. As I followed the line of the reservoir, a golden path of light plated the water. At the highway’s end, I felt caught up in a strange sort of exaltation, as though I was suspended in a vortex of creation, inhaling the very breath of life. The silhouette of the forested hills only accentuated the saffron glow of sunset, while the descending sun illuminated each cloud with a unique color, shape, and meaning. This vision was a masterpiece not to be duplicated—and, as I realized the brief span of the marvel before me, it was straightway enhanced—and I sensed the crust of eternity, which is the hem of God. What a marvelous feeling—to be permeated with joy and the sureness that Truth, Beauty, and the Almighty—the eternal questing of Life, was absolute, free of mortal doubt and filled with an assurance that all that we desire, pray, and hope for—that the pinnacle of our finest ideals and hours are but shadows of the wonder that casts them upon our consciousness!
April 28, 1975
Gray overcast this Monday morning in contrast to Saturday’s splendor. Paige went to school and I put the zipper in her prom dress and hand-sewed the inner waist band. Now I have only to hem it. Jo has taken over on the jacket. Will treat her to dinner at the Blarney Castle one day to say thanks.
Joey has a big lump on his head where the boat hook fell on him yesterday. A man pushed it aside as it fell or he surely would have been killed or seriously injured. I tremble at the vulnerability of my children. If only I could put an invisible shield around each one to keep them safe from harm.
May 8, 1975
Would you believe it? The sun is shining down from an unobstructed blue sky! My emotional barometer rises accordingly, and optimism pushes darkness into the background.
Finished Havelock Ellis’s The New Spirit after weeks of pecking away at it, and have come to the “Conclusion.” In this last chapter read, in essence, what I have thought and written in a previous journal concerning the meaning of art and music. Of course, he says it more clearly and with a beauty beyond my own daily scribbles; so I must quote part of it, regarding music.
“That is why no other art smites us with so powerfully religious an appeal as music, no other art tells us such old forgotten secrets about ourselves.
“Oh what is this that knows the road I came? It is in the mightiest of all instincts, the primitive tradition of the races before man was, that music is rooted.”
And now that I am about it, with the hurry of the day upon me, will copy a quotation from Huysmans that is included. It struck a note in me, providing a vivid, visual picture as well as the weight of intuitional understanding and sadness:
“Take pity, O Lord, on the Christian who doubts, on the skeptic who desires to believe, on the convict of life who embarks alone, in the night, beneath a sky no longer lit by the consoling beacons of ancient faith.”
Mother’s Day: May 11, 1975
Alone on a friendly stump by my roses under warm gray skies that open now and again to show their blue satin petticoats. Nushka is with me, and I have paid tribute to Chip’s grave with tears and remembrance, for it was his death a year ago that brought me Nush. And there is grief for my mother who is gone, and for myself who am alone.
All I know is that I have got to keep going for the children, whatever the cost or labor and if I survive, I pray there will come a time of peace.
May 16, 1975
Weariness covers me like a cloak that seeps into my bones, but I accept it, vaguely hopeful of its passing. How shall I manage work tomorrow? Must overcome this lethargy and get up and dress, wash dishes etc. and then trundle out to the garden like a good little mama.
Suddenly a swift, wicked thought—a wild stab of a vision! Nush and I off in the woods—me, dozing on the sweet grass of a small meadow while the birds queue up in the trees to serenade us, and all my thoughts go slow and deep…. Oh, could I but shake that nagging sense of duty…but if I don’t get my work done, it won’t be done at all—and it must. Pray God, the fastness of the wood will keep for me, and I will lie in that vast embrace….senseless, doddering, ancient with dust, encrusted with wounds, and yet, rising to bask in the light of its healing love.

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Published in: on February 17, 2019 at 9:54 am  Comments (6)  

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6 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Oh the work. This recalls so many days of tiring struggle, just to hold my head up and get through it. YOu’ve captured this so well.

    • Thanks again for commenting, Barb. You’ve been through the fires too and somehow, we both came through it. As have so many, if not all, of our sisters.

  2. A loss is a difficult turn in life and takes us through dark times. Allowing healing and making he memories bring smiles instead of tears is discovered along the path.

    • Rose, I know you’ve been through dark times and it’s a joy to see your present happiness. I guess the days are never so fair as they are after darkness and storm. The shadows of loss can make the sun shine all the brighter. Thank you for sharing your wisdom.

  3. You paint such vivid pictures it’s hard not to imagine them as beautiful as if I were there with you eyeing that sunset. Sometimes I think we live too long in the darkness of our own thoughts and don’t realize enough the beauty that surrounds us every minute of every day.

    • As always, I treasure your comments and insights, Laura. I have many thoughts I could share but perhaps, the best is that you are my friend and I am yours. Thank you.


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