Musings from today


Last week the magnolia tree outside my kitchen window was in full mauve-tinged bloom; the various fruit trees outside the most beautiful house on my block were fluttery-petaled and pink; birds were ebullient with chirping and life was warm.

It rained ALL day Saturday and the petals fell with the droplets. The birds were quieted, I thought of my favorite two-line poem, by Ezra Pound:

In a Station of the Metro
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
When the rain passed and the clouds shifted, the world turned green. Now the magnolia is yellow-green and popping with life, reminding me of The Secret Garden when Dickon shows Mary the green sap of the gray-shrouded twig and says in a accented twang: "But look Mary, it's wick"

I will never shrug off this deep-seeded link with the earth, I don't want to. I smell that spicy, languid, unmistakable scent of the Korean Spice Viburnum and am immediately transported to my long days trying in vain to chop the snowball-heads of that bush off to preserve its fragrance. Many pints of water were boiled in the effort to make perfume from those blossoms...resulting inevitable in a tepid eau de dead flower.

But with spring comes change, and for me that means shedding my Librarian-ship and till-now uninterrupted student role for someting very different. I'm graduating for the third time in a month, moving to NY in two months, hopefully to work in a high-paced demanding job that offers no quarter for a dreamer and idealist. Sure the plan is to be frantically applying to other schools during this time, but the year stands: a year without a focus on books.

I know I'll be alright, but I'm wistful for what must be past.