Literary whirligigs

I think it must have been the lighting of early April days, because Friday morning was filled with brief moments of de ja vu. Mostly fictional and nostalgic, as if the angles of sunlight reminded me of certain days--childhood days filled with books. I was contemplating black sesame seeds and was suddenly in the world of Wodehouse: reminiscing, laughing to myself, and planning to grab one from the library and relive all that humor. As I stretched out in yoga, chilling in supta baddha konasana, hands behind my head, I inexplicably thought of the Melendys, and was transported to Then There Were Five; not reliving a certain memory, or even replaying book-scenes in my head (which I am perfectly capable of doing), but more, I was just enveloped in the atmosphere of it for a moment. And then it was gone. There was another that I wanted to share, but it seems to have slipped my mind for the moment. Perhaps it will return.
Also, I suddenly recalled the name of someone who gave a boring speech about ten years ago. Where do these nuggets of information hide? And why can't I delete them and make room for some present material? Or the geography of the earth for instance?

Also I found an excuse to wax (in)eloquently about Lorna Doone on Thursday. Any excuse is a good one, when it comes to John Ridd.

I've been reading in all the corners of days, Louise Penny and Ellis Peters. Cadfael especially restores and inspires and deepens my mind in a way that few books can. I look forward to getting back into Lewis and Chesterton as well, and I have several books on hold through the library that are brand new and haven't even arrived at the libraries yet. The second installment of N.D. Wilson's Outlaws of Time, as well as Wilson's prequel to the 100 cupboards series 😱, and Meghan Whalen Turner's fifth book in the Queen's Thief series!!

Driving through the country last week, I wrote a sort of poem, using the voice memos on my phone. So it's a little rough, but the joy of springtime must out. The glory of this season of Easter pervades these days, pouring sunshine through curtains and lifting our hearts.

Fingers of light across the sky
Misty billows hung clear-shadowed against the blue
Young hawks find freedom and fly
Robins and chickadees sing from every branch. Their song is true.
Joy brushes across my shoulder and crinkles the corner of my eyes
As sunshine opens up the day, creating light and space, like love
Purveyor of change, in beauty undisguised
April's touch in dancing sunlight on my cheeks. It is enough.
The kiss of spring to melt each heart
And comfort every bone inside your chest, awakening a thaw to every marrow
Breathe in and refresh every part
Open your arms to the brightness ahead and laugh for tomorrow

Spring rises now, laying aside his winter garments
And wrapping hope around his waist
Lingering at your feet to bathe, cleanse,
And wipe away fear with hope



And speaking of poetry, here is Malcolm Guite's sonnet for Palm Sunday