My work these days reflects the weather’s dreariness — grant-writing — work I implicitly believe I should feel jazzed and excited about — and maybe I will, maybe I’ll get there, but grants so often feel like closed doors, of no room at the inn and all.
To counteract that — and the terrible string of cancer deaths from a Waldorf school where my daughter was once a student — I’m holing up reading novels. Despite the rain, my daughters and I are in the woods every day. Even on late days when I’m at work, they send me photos. One daughter is just out of childhood, the other has but a handful of years left. Observing them, I wonder what of my parenting will stick with them.
The younger daughter and I found our first unopened trillium yesterday. The older daughter asked the blossom’s color. The younger asked if it mattered. Yes, her sister answered.
Everywhere, yellow smears of blossoming forsythia.
The short summer night.
The dream and real
Are same things.
— Natsume Soseki
6 thoughts on “Gold Smudge”
Burgundy trillium and fiddleheads offset the best cans we picked up for green up day. Haven’t seen any white ones yet. Your daughters sound lovely.
Beer cans not best cans!
For a moment there, I thought it was my typo! Although not much south of us, you’re definitely ahead in the season….. My daughters definitely CAN be lovely 🙂
Grant writing. Ugh.
That’s all I have to say.