Artist

Alexander Averin

Saturday, 18 December 2010

Cliches abound and a bit of pondering.

Dear Diary,




Warning.
This post contains cliches.
If you’ve nothing better to do you can spot and count them up as you go along.

I keep thinking about the Rumi poem I posted yesterday (see extract below, full poem is in previous post).  It is so simple yet profound but only says what I have always suspected, that this life is only one dimension of existence, many more are hidden from us, all on different planes.   Rumi lived in the 13th Century, I find that fact amazing. The extract Mark picked from it and left in the comments is one that will stay with me also.

This place is a dream
only a sleeper considers it real
then death comes like dawn
and you wake up laughing
at what you thought
was your grief


I too wish I had written it.




Life certainly has dreamlike quality to it at the moment and it is one from which I am reluctant to wake.  I know this wintry weather has many downsides and my heart goes out to those adversely affected but to me in my own little bit of dreamworld, all is pure magic. 




I walked out amongst the deep snow last night with the dogs in the garden and it was just heavenly. There is no other word to describe it.  By the river our little willow tree is laced with a set of solar lights which are delicate and pretty.  The beauty of the garden and the surrounding hills and fields was breathtaking. I was loath to come in and it wasn’t even that cold, not compared to  the harshness of the temperatures that we have been enduring of late.  But the wee cottage looked so inviting and as it is built of stone and painted white it blended into the scenery looking just like rough white icing on a cake.  And through a window  my tiny Christmas tree could be seen with its little lights glinting. 

In my ponderings I also got to wondering why snow is white; I am somewhat scientifically-challenged you see - M says it is something to do with light reflecting on the crystals.  I also pondered on the fact that each snowflake is said to be unique in pattern - just like DNA - this to me is symbolic spiritually and reminds me of humanity where each face, each character. each soul, is different,   I can’t help my mind wandering, when there is poetry all around me.

This morning we have a foot of snow; I went out with my ruler and measured it.  It snowed from about 2.30 am.  Before we retired to bed we left the outside light on so that if we woke we could see the next promised belt of snow arrive. Joy of joys we did wake just at the appointed hour and  we enjoyed a cup of tea, listened to the World Service - there were some very moving personal stories on there - and through our (curtainless) window we watched  the snowflakes fall past the window. The snow since then has been relentless and has laced everything in sight, so much so that even the most mundane objects have become pieces of art. There are photos, paintings, poems and sculpture in-the-making everywhere I look and I can’t wait for the snow to ease  so I can go out and take photographs.  And all the trees are decorated with cotton wool, as if for Christmas.

My first priority is to feed the ever-hungry birds, they are everywhere to be seen and flying frantically from branch to branch so while my porridge cooks I venture out into snow that comes up to the top of my wellies.  I put heaps of nuts and seeds on the covered bird table by the kitchen window and some more under the pine trees, where, miraculously, there is still a patch of green.  The snow is still falling.  When I come in as well as the usual cinnamon, raisins and ground almonds, I add some golden syrup to my porridge telling myself that I need the extra energy.




Blessings?

Apart from my dear dog Finn who will be fourteen on New Years Day - he loves the snow and plays in it just like a puppy.

An unexpected  Saturday morning off work as my road is hugely impassable.  So for once I shall enjoy a proper weekend like most folk do.  I shall have to deduct the time from my future leave but never mind -  it is a gift to be at home all day today.  I enjoy being in the situation of not being able to get anywhere, to be cut off  is a kind of freedom though I fully understand that, as in everything in life, there is a flip side to that statement.  We have enough food for a while, nothing in for Christmas but, Scrooge that I am,  I am honestly not bothered about that or the fact that we may end up living on baked potatoes for rather a long time.  The worst thing that could happen is a lengthy power cut, then we will be up the creek without a paddle.  But we do have a gas hob, an ancient Rayburn and a log burner so as long as we have coal, logs and gas we are OK. 

And now, just when you think life couldn’t be more bright and beautiful the sun has come out.  I will soon be out with my little camera.  I shall post these VERY snowy pics in a later post, the ones in this post were taken yesterday when we only had eight inches of snow..

But the best blessing of all, apart from the visual beauty, is the unique snow-muffled silence.  Its soft, quiet peace is felt deep within my soul.

Peace and quiet, these are two words that truly are a marriage made in heaven.




I did warn you about the clichés……..

Bye for now,
Enjoy the snow,
Go mbeannai Dia duit,
Cait

10 comments:

Vee said...

Beautiful writing, Cait. I didn't stumble over any cliches. Your world is beautiful and you seem beautifully content in it. Finn is one handsome fellow I must say. I'm glad that he still knows how to romp in the snow. (You did not say "newfallen" snow. So many of us do. ;> )

What a gift today will be for you. I remember loving the gift of snow days when I taught.

I read Rumi's poem yesterday and it reminded me of something N. Hawthorne once wrote. Perhaps he was influenced by Rumi.

"We sometimes congratulate ourselves at the moment of waking from a troubled dream; it may be so at the moment after death."

Mark said...

We have about 8 inches in Wiltshire - enough to stop me getting to wales - Grrrr.

I liked the photo of the bike and the barrow against the iron shed. There are fewer of those sheds these days - I once drew all the sheds in our village as record; less than half of them remain.

Crystal Jigsaw said...

Your pictures are indeed very beautiful. I think being cut off is sometimes a blessing in disguise; the heavenly silence of the snow is something to be treasured isn't it.

But to be honest, it's taken its toll with me recently! I'm not a fan and as I am unable to drive right now, living where I do has proved very awkward! Thank heavens for my lovely Farmer.

CJ xx

elizabethm said...

What a lovely post Cait. We have had only a couple of inches here but it is still very beautiful. We had a day or two snowed in last year and it did feel rather lovely, like stolen time. I am not sure I would feel the same this year with FIL just arrived and fragile but last year I rather guiltily liked it!

Fire Byrd said...

The beauty belies the difficulty the snow produces.
I'm happy if I have nowhere I need to go as today and can have an unexpected day at home.
This time we have only a light covering, last time we had 10 inches which is definately more than required I think.
Lovely photos.

CAMILLA said...

I have read and re-read that poem Cait, so beautiful. I have wrote it down in my dream diary.

I too love the snow Cait, the picture you paint of your cottage and garden with that wonderful winter scene sounds so lovely, all so magical.

Lovely photo's Cait.

xx

CAMILLA said...

Row row your boat, ah lovley, remember saying this little tune to my children many times and them joining in when they were little.

xx

Cottage Garden said...

Cait, this post has me mesmerised. Not only by your words and indeed also the poem in your last post, I have come to relish these;-) but about the sheer magic of your photos as well.

There were no cliches as far as I could tell, just heartfelt and beautiful writing.

Stay warm and enjoy your wonderful solitude.

Jeanne
x

HER ON THE HILL said...

Cait, you have expressed, very beautifully, everything I feel about snow. The photos are delightful, your dog looks wonderful and what you describe is, indeed, truly magical. I too relish the tranquillity that snow affords - a world muffled, slowed, calmed. Perfect.

Bizarrely, here in the Peaks, we have not had the heavy recent falls of elsewhere (though we had them in late November/early December). There is just a dusting here at the moment, but it is still very beautiful and absolutely freezing (-10 this evening as I returned from a candlelit carol service).

Have a truly peaceful Christmas, Cait, in your own little bit of Narnia.

Pamela Terry and Edward said...

Oh, I am so envious of your beautiful snow. I has snowed here several times recently, but not enough to stick. What a dreamland you are living in! Enjoy it!!