Medieval History
Today gladdened towards the miraculous. There had been a lightness in the air because it was, after all, International Hug a Medievalist Day, but the usual this that and the other hastened things along the quotidian. I picked up Oliver and we went to karate; Mac picked up the girls and went with them to Iris's piano lesson; and then we met up at a pizza place for a school fundraiser. We'd been invited by a student to go to a Holi celebration, the springtime festival of colors with a complex story involving demons and living forever and a bonfire and a huge celebration involving spraying colored powder and colored water all over each other. I remember loving the Holi scene in Sholay - a five and a half minute sequence of joy and color that explodes upon the stunned silence of a tragic scene (welcome to Bollywood). Here, you can see for yourself! Holi!
We arrived right as the festivities were ending, which didn't prevent the kids from getting themselves pretty thoroughly covered in colored powder - Iris did an especially good job making sure Oliver was covered. Eleanor has her arms tucked into her t-shirt because it was (again and again and again) cold. I love this picture: us covered in Holi colors against the backdrop of our utterly raccoon-coat-and-pennant college campus.
And then we came home to a very long and beautifully adorned box - as tall as Eleanor and postmarked Hawaii. Hawaii! We bustled in with curiosity and gathered around the box while Mac made the ceremonial cuts here and there with words of caution all around (honestly, it reminded me of the scene in Christmas Story when the dad opens his "major award" box). And then we opened the box.
Nestled within crushed shredded paper was one after another after another of multiple tropical flowers from Hawaii. Hawaii!!! Leafy, glossy, vibrant, impossible flowers. The kids actually went silent. It was just incredible, the way the flowers were lying there, dormant, surely weary after having traveled such a long way. Some of them had been provided with tiny little water capsules at their stems; others had had their petals wrapped for the journey; one was completely ensconced in tissue paper. We unfurled them, held them, and marveled at their being here. At the embodiment that they are of sun from so far away, of warm breezes, and lush soil. This is wondrous to me: that the air we breathe around them is mingled with all they took in from Hawaii - the colors alone, but the textures, too, and the shapes and details... And then to open the card, and to see the names of two princes among men, and to feel our dear dear friends from Brittany right here - their warm words of well-wishes further banishing illness from our house. Mac (flower-whisperer) arranged the flowers, with much advice from the kids, and then they staged this picture - their Holi colors resonating now with the flowers.
Flowers heal. Colors make you feel like everything is going to be all right (if poppies can grow on Flanders field..). Like there's liveliness and beauty at your finger's touch: possible and near. Being visited by flowers, having them as guests in your home, hosting them cultivates a quiet I can't wait to dwell in. Maybe it's the D.C. conference and its lasting impact, but I do think on the presence of these visitors. Maybe it's also a long-ago love of Saint-Exupéry's The Little Prince and his impossible, tremulous rose. I can pause to wonder about the medieval book owner's fingers running over the shades and contours of the flowers on a page such as this one: exuberant nature stilled for contemplation. A wild array concerted, suspended. I feel our house graced by their presence.
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Medieval History
Hawaii amidst Holi
And then we came home to a very long and beautifully adorned box - as tall as Eleanor and postmarked Hawaii. Hawaii! We bustled in with curiosity and gathered around the box while Mac made the ceremonial cuts here and there with words of caution all around (honestly, it reminded me of the scene in Christmas Story when the dad opens his "major award" box). And then we opened the box.
- These Days
And then there are extraordinary ordinary days. Like when your brother and his awesome wife and their two fantastic boys come to where you live, and you find yourself very soon at the park and the kids are running around and maybe you've actually...
- Mercy Redux
Van Gogh Roses (1890) at the National Gallery in D.C.I had been told this would happen, and indeed it has started happening: completely unexpected and unassociated thoughts of my dad blazing through. So there I stood in the National Gallery yesterday,...
- Happy Birthday, Oliver
These ten days between Eleanor's birthday and Oliver's are always the craziest: turning grades in, saying good-bye to students, graduation, cleaning out the office, oh and there's a wedding anniversary in there somewhere. This summer,...
- The True Meaning Of Macmas
Today is Macmas! Or, as some call it, Macanalia. It is a day of celebration for a man whose kindness and wit and patience and light makes this planet pretty terrific to dwell in. Brunch for friends in the morning, great big snowstorm in the...
- Wind Of Greed
In what must be a rare moment of self-allegory, Miss E had just declared herself the "Wind of Greed" when I took this picture. I had thought to take a snapshot of her and her dad, and she totally took over the idea to declare: "I am the Wind of...