To Be Silent...... To Be Alone

“For now she need not think of anybody.  She could be herself, by herself.  And that was what now she often felt the need of—to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others...and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.”
                                                                                             Virginia Woolf

Adventures...alone enjoying a latte and a good read—Between the Acts—at the Depot in Lewes; quietly riding the daily bus from High Street to the University of Sussex; silently reading over 500 of Vanessa Bell’s letters at The Keep; discovering Bell’s subtle sense of humor in relating the challenges of being British and traveling by automobile throughout Italy during the 1940’s and 1950’s; visiting Anne of Cleves 15th-century timber-framed Wealden house on Southover High Street; touring the curious medieval, limestone and flint blocks Lewes Castle and taking in the view across the South Downs and Sussex; browsing the antiquarian bookstores along High Street; strolling the many gardens.......and sitting with watercolors, brush and paper, painting an old stone arch and abundant summer flowers;  being oneself, something invisible to others.........

Saint Anne’s Church and Cemetery......Lewes

”The colour of everything is curiously lovely.”
                                                      Vanessa Bell  

After dinner, and on my way back to the Orchard B&B in Lewes this evening, I strolled through Saint Anne’s Church cemetery, enjoying the summer flowers and fading light.  The color of everything was indeed curiously lovely, from the warm sunlight hitting the old stones, to the deepening blue early evening shadows and the pink roses climbing lazily over aged grey headstones.  Lately, being so immersed in Woolf’s novels—To the Lighthouse, Jacob’s Room, Orlando, and Mrs. Dalloway—in which death is such an abiding element, I found it oddly coincidental and pleasant to find myself wandering here.

Virginia Woolf’s Gardens

                   

“For the moment how sweet life is….in its regularity & order, & the garden & the room at night & music & my walks & writing easily & interestedly.”              Virginia Woolf

During the month of July, I will miss the order of my Orinda days: the ever changing summer garden, the still rooms, Brahms in the air, and putting pen to paper.  Traveling to the University of Sussex, and accessing a selection of Vanessa Bell's unpublished letters held in the Special Collections will be an intriguing adventure.  I hope to discover, in her own words, some of her experiences and impressions while traveling throughout Italy over a number of years. And then....on to Cambridge for a week long Literature Cambridge class---Virginia Woolf's Gardens.  Looking at how Woolf used colorful gardens, parks, and flowers in her numerous works will be an absolute delight, as well as meeting fellow Woolfians from around the world.  What a wonderful opportunity, and occasion to say "how sweet life is......"