Sunday, February 10, 2008


I Have Enough

It's Sunday, which means we start the day with Sunday Bach, a public radio show to which my spouse listens religiously. I frankly think that she should have her own radio show, with that low, full voice of hers, her extensive scholarship, that amazing CD collection. She'd be a natural.

For now Sunday Bach is a nice way to start the day. After the show I asked her to assume the music duties, and she put on Lorraine Hunt Lieberson's recording of arias from two Bach cantatas, my favorite of which is titled Ich habe genug, I Have Enough.

One of life's greatest pleasures is listening to Lorraine Hunt Lieberson. I probably wouldn't know her music at all if I hadn't met my spouse, but such are the blessings of love and growth over the long haul.

The last couple of weeks have been a bit difficult. I've set the novel aside for reasons that I'm still pondering. Something about the timing, the spirit of the project has been bothering me. Working on it has led me into unformed feelings that I can only loosely describe as dread. I attack myself for being unimaginative, empty. Friday night we had dinner with a friend who lives on a hilltop out in the country. I gazed up into the bright stars which lit up the contours of her snowy valley and wondered if living in the country would be a better setting for writing. Why did we have to live in town, anyway?

Do we ever have enough?

I'd promised myself a snowshoe this morning with Maddie-dog, so after breakfast and Lorraine we headed up to Hurricane Forest. There we found the freshness of new fallen snow and the
friend that the familiar trail has become. The melody and feeling of the aria stayed with me as we trudged along. I have enough.

Sleeping under the blanket of snow are memories of other seasons. We passed the little bridge which leads to the lady slipper orchids that bloom in June. Up the hill we looked down upon a pond that drew Maddie in any season when she was a younger dog, but which now cools her only in summer. Now it was just an inky scar in the whiteness of snow.

Up the hill we went. Wearing a white cap was the bench where we always rest in the
summertime, the better to take in the view below. A woman and her dog passed us on a jog and called out good morning.

We passed the spot where frittilaria, Mama Nature's own checkered flower, used to grow before an avalanche of mud
and fallen trees smothered their blooms for future seasons. The pines hung heavy with their sweet burden of fresh snow, and the brook flowed silently below us. Up we went, crossing over into the gold of the hardwoods that accompanied our descent. I remembered the three-toed salamanders that creep from under the logs when we come down in the summer time. In no time at all we would be greeting them again. In the beauty and silence of this landscape I could dream the other seasons.

In spring the stands of
jack-in-the-pulpits nod over the brook, and on the hillside opposite the pond-chapel are spread deep red trilliums that have reseeded themselves into a cascade of color in early spring.

I passed the little chapel or gathering place that's made of rows of logs, now just shadows in the snow. Someday I will figure just who I want to bring together in celebration of what. If my darlin' and I were the marrying kind, or in our state, the civilly uniting kind, I would want our ceremony here.

Finally, our loose, loopy circle was complete, and we returned to the trailhead. We stood for a minute, looking across the pond at the trees bathed in blue light.

I'm back home now. Maddie dozes beside me, dreaming of our adventures while new snow resumes falling, filling, transforming the landscape.

I have enough.

That stark, gorgeous scenery alone might inspire you to plod on with your novel. If that doesn't work, I urge you to pick up a copy of "Fall On Your Knees" by Ann Marie MacDonald. I think it would inspire anyone to write.
Mmm. Trust me on this, Blondie.
Oooh! I love the last magical blue enshrouded pond picture. Beautiful!
Don't beat yourself up over the writing. It will flow when the time is right. When everything is properly aligned, the writing will come. ou may have fleeting thoughts that would be good passages, write them down & the pieces & direction will come together.
Your loopy circle sounds like a wonderful meditation to clear the mind & make the four legged one happy. For today, that sounds like enough.
I agree with Fran--the pictures are breath-taking!

You're blogging is novel enough for some of us. All sounds very glad to hear mad-dog leads such an adventurous and healthy life!
My damn paws are FREEZING!
That was just beautiful having read that post and enjoyed the photo's as usual..i too say : I have enough.

thanks for another lulu Maude post, i know when i click here, i leave with a smile..and that give me MORE than enough.
What a mastery you have with words Lulu.

The pics are simply wonderful too..thank you. ;)
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