This is not Sweden, but East Anglia, taken in January from the car window as Granny whizzed us on our way. But it will do to illustrate how we are feeling this weekend, cold and lonely. The children have left us and gone with the Scouts to ski in the mountains. The youngest rang this morning at 6.10 am just to let us know she had woken up. She rang again at 6.20 am to tell us that she had a tummy ache and that she loved us both very much. She called again at 6.30 am to say that the tummy ache might be due to hunger and once again at 6.40 am informing us that big sister had woken up. Since then things have been very quiet, so I guess they're having a good time. We have kept ourselves busy, shopping this morning and visiting art exhibitions this afternoon, well one of us did, the other slept. Paintings don't normally move me to tears, but this afternoon one by the artist Berta Hansson (1910-1994) did, together with these words next to it:
This evening yet another bird landed
On my out stretched canvas.
One big and white.
The last one of all.
How do I know it is my last?
Well, these things cannot be mistaken.
These things are felt in the heart and in the marrow of the bones.
I fought long with the paint,
Conquered the black
With the white.
When the bells of Mary Magdalene
Rang dully twelve times
Then I left my easel for good.
Ending my life as a painter.
Without, I believe, self-pity.
But with, of course, trepidation.
Now all that remains is to wait.
Berta Hansson 1991
5 comments:
I should perhaps add that the poem has been translated as Ruthfully as possible by me.
Children render us so vulnerable. Try to enjoy the peace - they'll be back soon.
Ruth is beauty, beauty is Ruth :-)
I've just done a quick google on Berta and I'm not surprised you were so moved..the strength of the artist's vision beyond her sight is really humbling.
Much love you, Lasse and the young ladies,
Amy xx
Oy! What's this about me granddaughters being abandoned in the snowy wastes of Sweden ????? If I lived up there in winter I would hibernate, not go skiing and camping. Still, it's nice to have you back blogging reg'lar. Let us know ehen they're home again safe, please.
Much love, the parents.
Too true, Pat, they do.
Why thank you Cuz, and yes she really did. There is something very simple and yet very powerful in her work.
No worries Pa + Ma, they weren't in tents, they slept inside a mountain cottage. Not that camping is impossible, some kids at work are spending tonight in a tent, an old military one with a stove in the middle. Miss T and Strawbs are now home, safe if not sound...they came home with high temperatures (39.6), sore throats and snuffles and had to spend a couple of days in bed, but they're both back at school again today.
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