Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Santa Rosa Song

Two weeks later, my last entry looks like the shell of a barn in the dusk in a rear-view mirror. The blue’s gone gray and I’m miles from there.

My father used to say that as a kid on the farm during the Depression, summer seemed an eternity to him. But nowadays, perhaps due to the absence of gravity and dust, two weeks in cyberspace seems longer. Or maybe it’s the abundance of manure — our need to say something, even and especially when nothing is sure.

If childhood frames us, the myth of mine is as ripe as a star. Never lonely, yet ever alone. Searching, yes, and finding, always, the sweet melancholy of more.

Our neighbor to the north had Santa Rosa plums. There, among trunks and limbs like gnarled old men and the ancient rasp of lizards’ breath, I learned the art of sparrowsong. I know, because the little birds answered me.

Thus was I formed.

And oh, how I loved my mother’s plum jelly.


Two Tigers said...

I never thought the memory of jelly I've never had could taste so sweet.

As do your words after a seeming eternity without them.

William Michaelian said...

Hearing yours, Gabriella, is better. Thank you, and I love your newest entry.

Wine and Words said...

If childhood frames us, the myth of mine is as ripe as a star.

I'm thinking on this. It's beautiful, and perhaps I will create a myth myself. How hard can it be? I do it in other arenas, why not the beginning? There are weeks when I live a lifetime per day. Pretty exhausted there at the end. A lazy interminable summer sounds good.

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Annie. And may your night sky be one star brighter.

táne-mar said...

ahh, if only we could spare time to listen and observe (just like you, William, in the garden) before speaking any words (or trying to sing! for that matter, i smile), and then say not too much, not too little, but just enough (just like you, William), if only...
happy to read your posts again!

William Michaelian said...

How beautiful and kind of you, Tanya. Thank you.

Monique @ Magpie Hollow said...

So beautiful. I wish I could express myself like that.

William Michaelian said...

Each in our own way, Monique. I think you express yourself quite well. Thank you.

Ed Baker said...

thank gawd
(whoever 'she' may be for
the few "gnarled old men"
who know the smell of those steamy
chips & have conversations w
"little birds"

there IS a book maybe even
a Book of Books waiting to be
written following this post:

"Thus was I formed" as GREAT an opening into
just-whatis/was as

"Call me Ishmael"

you got to know a lot
have a great store-house of memories(experiences) to be this spontaneous and responsive

must be years of due-dilligence in

"the art of sparroesong" ?

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Ed.

I know one thing: Your harmony here is a song of its own.