June 12, 2014

Goldfinch two-step

"he had crawled a slow fuse under her clothes" page 8 / Anne Michaels' The Winter Vault

Sometimes things change simply because the time has come, an inner moment is reached for reasons one cannot explain--whether grief takes six months or six decades or, as in our case, eight years. Something latent in the body awakens. Sorghum seeds can lie dormant for six thousand years and then stir themselves! It happens all the time in nature; we should not be surprised when it happens in human nature.

* excerpt from Anne Michaels' The Winter Vault / page 60 / a weathered favorite of mine

Joan's spirit has passed to the other side. Free bird. She would have approved of the memorial service held in her honour methinks. Beautiful flowers, hundreds of super fans, raisin buns, not to mention her two sons' delivery of their tribute to their mom which caused the entire congregation to erupt countless times. Contagious laughter at a funeral. True to Joan form, even in death. Up until the moment a gentleman with an enormous singing voice took to the stage to bellow out How Great Thou Art, I was in disbelief that a woman of such vitality and laughter could be gone so swiftly. Must it be? Muss es sein? It must be! Es muss sein! Then when those first bars of that hymn (long embedded within me) came, so did the tears of acknowledgment; for her pain is finished. While my sorrow is a drop in the bucket--comparatively--it is strange to be back in this place.

Nightly, I have been laying my home projects and busyness to rest to retire for the last light of evening in what has quickly become my favorite room in the house, the sun porch. In the spirit of Joan, Linda and Marj--three great fallen matriarchs--three beeswax candles remain alight until bedtime. Fire restores.

There has been plenty of good too. May and June, my favorite months, the Hopefuls I call them, have arrived. Productivity rises, Lilacs bloom and fade as the next round of flora emerges to take over the neighborhood (peonies!), the light lingers, clothes come off, socks lay long forgotten. I have been shooting photos again, after a stretch of repose. I am trying to pick up my big camera more to actively capture the magic hour at home. The other day while home alone, I was sitting in my porch with my Kiev in my lap when a sauntering man caught my eye. It had been quite some time since I shot a stranger's portrait so I sauntered down the walk to meet him. I asked for his name and he replied, Lenny. I replied, Hey Lenny, you don't have to hide your beer, it makes the shot. Oh no, I couldn't, he said. After explaining I only had one frame left on my roll, I asked for his portrait and this is what he gave. Then he sauntered southbound on Victor, shirt tails flapping in the wind.

Summer is in.
Here is a look in.

Lenny's portrait. Expired 220 NPC 160. Winnipeg, MB.

* Kiev 60 // expired 220 NPC 160

3 comments:

  1. some comments:
    1) Then sings my soul, a good hymn a good paragraph.
    2) I want to eat in your porch. I like your hanging candles
    3) I love so so much your line: "I asked and this is what he/she/they gave." A very good caption for an always interesting portrait. You are only getting better.

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  2. Pure gold, this post. Real life, goosebumply.

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  3. i want nothing more than a porch to sit in.

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