I see him every morning as I walk Russell and he gives me a lift every time.
Saturday, after helping me get ready for Easter dinner, setting the table and arranging the flowers, Molly sat down and make this portrait of Russell, which just proves what I've been saying, that good work comes when you're working. I love the confidence of the outline--done all in one gesture. And she captured Russell's friendly expression.
Here I am with Russell's predecessor, Lucy. In the background is a portrait of her that Molly did at the age of seven. You can see how she's matured as an artist.
Moving on, lately I've given up my practice of listening to podcasts and NPR as I walk around town so as to be more alert and present and not to trip on the sidewalk. I miss the company but I'm finding that I enjoy the thoughts that come through the silence.
For instance, as this is daffodil season, William Wordsworth appears.
In my teaching days I had to proctor exams and, because it's vital to keep an eagle eye on the students it was forbidden to read or do paper work. To avoid dying of boredom I'd memorize a poem; read a line, walk up and down the aisle looking stern and repeating the line to myself, then go back to check and see if I have it down. The rhyming scheme of "Daffodils" makes it pretty easy and it's still in the back of my mind, ready for a spring day.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
I love the last verse about the bliss of solitude. Thursday's crossword puzzle was about the martini and it turns out E.B. White referred to it as "elixir of quietude."
Well, we all have our little comforts. What flashes upon your inward eye? what's your bliss of solitude? What is your elixir of quietude?
I'm very close to finishing this but you know that feeling when you're reading a book that you absolutely love and you're racing to see what happens but you also don't want it to end? That's kind of where I am right now.
Russell likes it too.
