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......"

Miner's Lettuce in the East Bay Hills

"A great sense of the brutality and wildness of the world remains with me...." 

                                                                                           Virginia Woolf

How to explain a small child looking up in a clear blue sky and seeing a plane suddenly a bright fireball in the sky, breaking up, hot metal pieces falling on cars, roofs and gardens, instantly killing five.  Or, a father and son, tracking a mother bear and her cubs, finding them in a sheltered cave, and killing them every one.  A clap of thunder and lightening strike hitting an ancient oak, setting it aflame and splitting the deeply ridged trunk.  Against this, Miner's Lettuce in the East Bay hills following spring rains, seeking sunlit quarters and multiplying, resembling so many carried on the wind, then rooted, upturned green umbrellas.

My Father Spoke in Aughts

  “I am overwhelmed with things I ought to have written about and never found the proper words.”

                                                                                                                     Virginia Woolf

    At Monday's Poetry Circle, our invited poet Brenda Hillman read from her recent book  "Extra Hidden Life among the Days".  What a revelation............... Can one  really write so honestly about one's father, examining their strengths, weaknesses, values and more?  Brenda certainly does in the Elegies section of this insightful and inspiring book.

As I was listening to her read about her father, I was thinking of my own father, his

hi    strengths and weaknesses, his values, the words he used.  I have carried some of the words he spoke deep within me.....the appalling east Texas racist expressions..... and have been so disturbed by them.   And ashamed.  And confused.  How could my gentle, loving, and affectionate father have used such words?  

Clearly, for so long I have been as Virginia says, overwhelmed by what I ought to have written.  Listening to Brenda read about her father freed something in me about my father.....and I found the proper words. In two days I wrote the poem, My Father Spoke in Aughts. 

To Get the Full Sound................

“I am reading six books at once, the only way of reading; since, as you will agree, one book is only a single unaccompanied note, and to get the full sound, one needs ten others at the same time.”
                                                                                                                                                    Virginia Woolf

 In August, it seems there is less to do in the garden; and the strong sun and heat of the day drives one indoors.  This respite though, provides an opportunity to focus on other projects. 

In an effort to continue my research on Vanessa Bell,  I am reading (and for several, re-reading) six books at once---Selected Letters of Vanessa Bell, Duncan Grant a Biography, The Art of Bloomsbury, Vanessa Bell: Sketches in Pen and Ink, and the Letters of Virginia Woolf Vols I and II.  My current research involves seeking out letters, diaries, memoirs, and reminiscences that provide details about Bell's experiences, impressions, and insights while traveling and painting in Italy.  Indeed, in order to avoid "a single unaccompanied note, and to get the full sound" will require reading materials far beyond my own Bloomsbury library. A trip to the the Sussex University Library, and the Modern Archives at King's College Cambridge to access Bell's original letters, seems in order, doesn't it?

Time Alone..........

    “The truth is I like it when people actually come but I love it when they go.”
                                                                                           Virginia Woolf

   

   Like Virginia, I like it when people.....friends, family, grandchildren..... come by, visit, stay awhile.  But I also love it when they go.  Quiet mornings inspire, tending the garden energizes, and having time alone to write is absolute joy.



 

                                                                                                   

Hope Springs Eternal..........

   

  “It is worth mentioning, for future reference, that the creative power which bubbles so pleasantly in beginning a new book quiets down after a time, and one goes on more steadily.  Doubts creep in.  Then one becomes resigned.  Determination not to give in, and the sense of an impending shape keep one at it more than anything.”

                                                                                                                        Virginia Woolf

      The creative power to create this blog (as with many endeavors), did indeed bubble up so pleasantly in the beginning.  Sustaining the creative power, energy, and enthusiasm has been quite another matter.  Doubts do creep in and resignation.  However, I am determined to not give in, and instead put hands to keyboard, shape my words, and move forward.  This determination will hopefully bear fruit.  

I was reminded this morning of just such determination in my attempts each summer to grow purple Japanese eggplant.  For the past four years in early summer, I've added amendment and worked a particular spot of ground near the raised vegetable beds, carried one or two 4" eggplants home from the nursery, and optimistically tucked them into the soil. Then diligently watered and waited.  Whether due to the local family of squirrels, smart, beady-eyed scrub jays, or the incompetence of the gardener, they've never grown, flourished, and made it to the kitchen table. This year may be different.  Hope for this eggplant and this blog, springs eternal............

Cambridge by way of London

“By hook or by crook, I hope that you will possess yourselves of money enough to travel and to idle, to contemplate the future or the past of the world, to dream over books and loiter at street corners and let the line of thought dip deep into the stream.”

                                                                                                         Virginia Woolf

Having spent the morning doing some planning for my July trip to Cambridge, I appreciate having the ability (read money) to travel, to dream of idling on long expanses of lawns or loitering---books under arm---around centuries old doorways at Homerton College where I will be staying for two weeks.  I am looking forward to the lectures and discussions during the two Literature Cambridge classes---Woolf's Rooms and Reading Bloomsbury; to contemplating the future and the past through the course readings; and as always, meeting others interested in Woolf, Vanessa Bell, and all things Bloomsbury.

I have just now booked my hotel in London, the Morton in the heart of Bloomsbury.  Before training up to Cambridge, it will be lovely to spend a few days in this London area where I spent my sabbatical......letting the line of thoughts dip and drift, remembering walks, and re-visiting old Bloomsbury haunts, beloved bookstores and libraries, and leafy gardens and squares.

Valentine Day Write In

·       “when things have got to such a pass, I don’t see how the least politically minded can keep out of it."        Vanessa Bell

  

      I spent Tuesday morning of Valentine's Day with other Orinda Progressive Action Alliance members writing post cards and letters to our local congressional members, our U.S. Senators, and others who are committed to stopping the insanity of the current administration.  This was just one group table. In all there were four tables and over forty members writing. It was heartening to hear some people say that they had never been really politically minded before, but now felt compelled to take a stand and do something.  A sincere thanks to our local independent bookstore, Orinda Books, for providing a space for us to meet.

Four Years Can Be a Very Long Time

”It is I think the only hope of the world that such people make themselves felt.”

                                                                                                       Vanessa Bell

In a 1936 letter to her son Julian Bell, Vanessa Bell wrote about individuals wanting to do something.....needing to make a contribution in some way..... to the efforts to fight Franco's fascism during the Spanish Civil War.

With Trump, his band of corrupt advisors and extremist appointees, his outrageous and destructive policies and executive orders, four years can indeed be a very long time.  

 What are we to do then in times like these, when our democratic principles, our democracy is under siege? It seems that we must remember, and constantly remind ourselves that we have seen this type of insanity before on the world's stage.  It's a darkness that throughout history rises up, and must be continually fought and defeated. We must organize, mobilize, and whenever and wherever possible speak out and  take direct action.  We must persist and resist......and know that through our collective efforts we can make ourselves felt, we can make a difference.

After a long illness......

Virginia Woolf once wrote, ”Consider how common illness is how tremendous the spiritual change that it brings, how astonishing, when the lights of health go down, the undiscovered countries that are then disclosed what wastes and deserts of the soul a slight attack of influenza brings to view, what precipices and lawns sprinkled with bright flowers a little rise of temperature reveals, what ancient and obdurate oaks are uprooted in us by the act of sickness…..”

I have indeed been uprooted physically and emotionally by these past three months of back pain. Where is my old life?  When will I be able to garden again, pick up my grand-daughters, regain a sense of sustained vitality?  I have wondered,  is this the new normal, a new yet circumscribed life?  And then, the thought occurs, is this forced convalescence all bad?  The ability to sit silently, identify, and watch the birds at the fountain or at the feeder brings such joy and has much to recommend.  The time (before only stolen moments from endless days of busyness) to read and consider, write without hurry, to work with my hands and mind fully engaged, in essence to follow my inspiration and create......now expands before me daily and I am soothed and uplifted.  Likewise, the Orinda oaks outside my window with their strong branches and deep roots, their strength and perseverance, and their ability to withstand sustained drought, strong winds, and beating rain, are a balm to my soul and provide a constant and quiet inspiration.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

On this Day........

 

 “ "The writer catches the changes of his mind on the hop.  Growth is exciting; growth is dynamic and alarming. Growth of the soul, growth of the mind."

 Vita Sackville-West

 

On this day, March 9, 1892 Vita Sackville-West was born.  She was a much published novelist and prolific poet.  Above all, she was a consummate gardener.  Over the past thirty years, I have been inspired by her writing, and the garden she created at Sissinghurst in Kent.  Through Vita, I discovered the deep joy in creating gardens.  Red hot pokers---Kniphofia---and also known as torch lily, were one of Vita's favorite herbaceous plants.  In honor of her dedication to the growth of the soul and growth of the mind.....A Red Hot Poker Birthday Bouquet.

March Rain

“Then the weather; great bouncing gusts all set about in the rain soaking one.”

                                                                                                      Virginia Woolf

    Much needed March rains have arrived in my Orinda Garden.....soaking quickly into the ground.  The thirsty camellias, like this one, and the white, pink, and dusky rose rhododendrons are appreciating the deep soakings.  And I appreciate being driven indoors to spend time writing at my desk, no longer on my knees weeding.  The three new raised vegetable beds are in at last.  The artichokes, leeks, and kale transplanted, and new lettuce, brocollini, and spinach seedlings planted.