Enga mellom fjella

Boring life equals a boring blog? How did Emily do it?

"When the Lady lie in Ceaseless Rosemary" last line of an Emily Dickinson poem [675]. I used it to prompt a poem yesterday [168.17]

ME:

How did Emily do it? It's not like she was a world traveler, not like she was the belle of the ball, nor did she raise a family although she looked after her parents. Stuck at home? Not quite... but she did hang around her house and garden quite a bit.

Her poems speak to a certain inscape (Hopkins would've approved) and seem to touch on eternal themes even when speaking of small specific events.

She sure had an odd cadence ...until one has read hundreds ...and then slowly one hears her voice. It is soft; it seems hesitant, but there is a quiet passion at times.

...me?

I miss my gardens as they kept me grounded. I miss getting out more. The weather here has been depressing and I struggle. Finally the crocus, iris and grape hyacinth are blooming and soon the daffodil. The river is rising from rain and spring melt. We have not had the warmth that would bring a flood. The snowfields are deep this year. The cold has been good for the pine and the cool waters will help the trout.

Still... I'm not at one with this landscape. It's wonderful to see a heron flap across the river channel. It's awesome to see an eagle perched. But I'm used to lush landscapes and this one is dry and subtle. If I lived out in the woods or outside of the concrete jungle it would help. I need more than an occasional sighting of a beaver.

How did Emily do it?

She saw, thought, smelled, listened, touched and tasted ...then sat with her thoughts. Most of her poems come from two years in her life. Just two years...

53 cloudy degrees here.

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