More richly and more recklessly,
Leaves, leaves, give tongue and whirl away,
Fill yesterday's cup of bitterness
With the sadness of today.
Impulse, enchantment, beauty!
Let's dissolve in September wind
And enter the rustle of autumn.
Be still, or go out of your mind!
-From "Autumn," by Boris Pasternak
I spent part of the country weekend with the Russians - Pasternak, Tsvetaeva, Akhmatova. Random? Even more so: after a day of Russian poetry, I sat down to watch OLD SCHOOL - an adult(ish) frat movie starring Will Ferrell, Vince Vaughn, and Luke Wilson.
A strange stretch in the country. Quiet and unbothered, yet work-ful. Not particularly restful. If I were to oversimplify the city-country dichotomy, I would say city=intellect, country=body. Lawn & yard, cooking, cleaning, laundry, hauling fire wood, climbing the hill with the dog, car maintenance... in the country, I mysteriously turn into a farm woman. The Russians were I guess a mini-antidote to all that. (OLD SCHOOL a mini-antidote to the Russians.)
The physical work is how we get ready for the change of seasons, I suppose. Putting away summer things, getting out sweaters and wool socks and space heaters, the last mowing of the season, the final harvest of lettuce and spinach, raking the leaves and covering the garden with them...and changing the clocks, of course. We enter the dark of winter. Everything smells of burning wood (hair, clothes, dog).
I am not sure if I have quite yet entered the rustle of autumn. Be still, or go out of your mind! We are facing translation issues here, I would imagine. And yet, the sentiment speaks to me - be still, be still. The chores will always be there. More richly, and more recklessly...
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3 comments:
Did you see my post? First snowfall here yesterday. The idea is lovely, the reality a grind. Traffic was slow coming home. I shoveled 2 inches of icy slush off our large driveway, just b/c my mother would shoot me if I let my MIL do it by herself. And MIL isn't going to allow the promise of plowing service deter HER from WORK.
Heya, sorry I've been MIA. Just caught up on A Teaching Life and NaNoWriMo. I had to shovel myself out last winter with a garden shovel (didn't have a snow shovel), which felt like shoveling with a teaspoon. Country life has definitely made me aware of my vulnerability to the "elements" - nature is no wuss. I find myself flush with gratitude for functional heating, plumbing, automobile, everything that protects from nature at her most harsh. A la INTO THE WILD, you'd like to think you could survive without the modern conveniences; but then again, as modern-age people, we may just be weaker that way.
It's easier to write back here. Thanks for your comments ;)
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