My dear friend Jenny took this photo of our family this weekend. We were down in Grand Rapids watching her daughter in an Irish Dance competition (officially known as the Mid-America Oireachtas, which is a lovely way of saying that it was a big deal). As a former dancer (I danced and choreographed a bit in college), I loved getting a peek into the world of fancy Irish footwork; but even more than that I loved seeing Jenny (you can see us together here on her blog). I'm so grateful that our letters, our phone conversations, and our blogs have kept us connected over the past six years since Jeffrey, Amabel, and I moved from Pittsburgh back to Michigan. Even after all those years apart and all that space between us, as Jenny said, we picked up as if no time had passed. Jenny's friendship is a wonderful gift.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
My November Guest
My Sorrow, when she’s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She’s glad the birds are gone away,
She’s glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.
— Robert Frost
I want to thank Ashlea for sharing this poem. It so fit my mood and photos from my recent wanderings, and I was delighted to discover it on her blog yesterday. November has felt very quiet for me so far. We are slowing down, taking stock, and truly letting go of some commitments that were not nourishing our family. Walking outside, I've found a lot of peace in the increasingly barren landscape—watching the forests and fields shed layers of summer growth; watching their stark forms emerge; and learning to know the love of bare November days.