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The Spring Light


The walnut tree is not waiting any longer.  We have been having unusually warm weather. 

Things are getting dry even.

What a jolt!

We received a telephone call inviting us to le goûter du troisième age, an afternoon do for senior citizens.  I said well, no one here has reached that age yet.  The caller replied it’s according to the calendar year and your husband’s name is on the list.  (I know that date is approaching but haven’t been dwelling too much on it.)  When one member of a couple is eligible, the spouse is invited also.  There will be an accordion player.  —Thank you very much.  Usually that day is one of my husband’s busiest but it is kind of you to invite us.  (He works full time and has several years to go before retirement.)

It turned out that my husband’s schedule had a variation and we are going to attend this event.  It makes me feel rebellious somehow.  I started wondering what semi-outrageous thing could I do to prove that I am not in that category of the population, some of which may be 20 or even 30 years older than us.  I never could do cartwheels or headstands.  Still ruminating, I went outside.


Beautiful sunshine!  Spring!  My nut tree!  I’m going to climb up there; it’s been awhile.  I usually give it a bit of a rub to remove some of the moss and lichens growing on its bark.  Today I got out a gentle brush and started to rub vigorously but that wasn’t very efficient, so I got out a harder brush and used a gentler touch.  It felt like grooming an elephant, not that I have ever done that, but sometimes I think I see an elephant’s eye and trunk in this tree.  I imagine it feels good to the tree—it makes me feel itchy to consider how it would be to have all that growing on me but is that necessarily how the tree sees it?  How do I know if I am feeling intuitively or imposing my view of things?

As not very many of you may have the opportunity to enjoy the view from up in this tree, here is a photo.


I have to go now, change clothes and brush myself off—I’m covered in moss.

Rock-a-bye Walnut


   

                                                    Rock-a-bye walnut

                                                    Tight in your shell until now

                                                    Soon you will fall

                                                    Freed from the nourishing bough

                                                    If no mouse makes away

                                                    With you during the night

                                                    You’ll be in my basket

                                                    And then my palate’s delight.