Driving to Fergus

[vaneramos]

Once in a while a certain image takes residence for a season in my mind. It is always a real image, a place and time, but evolves gradually into a metaphor. Frequently these images come while I'm driving, perhaps because that's one of the few times I'm naked and alone with my thoughts, not distracted by things I give myself to do.

The most recent one descended one morning, like an angel, into my psychic pain as I drove to work. Wellington County Road 28 suddenly became the unfurling coil of a tender fern, and I rode like an iota along the length of silver frond.

Every day I pass and admire a particular line of great maples, an avenue approaching a farmstead on the crest of a low hill. I had photographed and posted here, weeks earlier, an image of that farm, but so far the maples themselves have defied my ability to photograph adequately. That morning they erupted like a boundary of fractals into my vision, a leading edge into mysteries of the universe, the future. But above all my vision transplanted me back to the present, the place in which I must remain alive and open.

Every moment is new life, an opportunity. In the midst of depression, loneliness and despair, my mind awakened to the sensual ministries of the landscape, grace of the cosmos. Fields and sky carried me aloft. I drew deeply from that breakfast of pleasure.

I can't attach a specific date, but it must have been March. I have struggled to put the experience into words, a poem, but its essence is largely inexpressible. The bout of depression evaporated weeks since, and likely the silver-fern moment assisted my healing, yet even in happiness and contentment I yearn to continue that experience.

I'm so happy with my job that I've actually considered moving to Fergus to be nearer. But there are too many good reasons to stay in Guelph—one of biggest being: I so love driving that half-hour of countryside each morning and afternoon.

In the board game, Masterpiece, my favourite painting was always "The Avenue" (also known as "The Alley at Middelharnis"), by Meyndert Hobbema. What was yours?

Comments

[missprune.livejournal.com]

I'm wondering whether all editions of Masterpiece had the same paintings. I don't remember the one you cited. My favorite was generally the Mary Cassatt mother and child one, I think.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Hmm, I don't think that was in my edition. Interesting!

[butterflyminds.livejournal.com]

Beautifully written, and I remember seeing that photo some time back. It has a lovely clarity to it.

[butterflyminds.livejournal.com]

By the way, the user pic you have there brought my old university to mind. I went to Stirling Uni, which is in the country between Stirling and Bridge of Allan. There always seemed to be bales like that lying in the fields. The campus was gorgeous - it was a modern built uni but centred around a loch. A bridge ran from one side of the loch to the other. Residences were on one side, teaching buildings mostly on the other. There was a forested hill rising up behind the residences, and a ruined hermitage (full of old beer cans, etc). There was a ruined church in the grounds of the uni, with graves going back at least to the 17th century, featuring skulls and crossbones. There was also a 'castle', Airthrey Castle, which was right next to my residence - my room looked on to it. But it was less a castle than a house, and not a very big one. It was in use as a teaching building, and connected to the medical centre. But one of the most magical things about the campus was the sight of the Wallace Monument on the hill (opposite the hill with the hermitage woods). In the run up to Christmas, this Disney-like structure was lit up,and glowed in the night sky.

All that just came to mind looking at your user pic!

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Interesting what memories images can stir up. I saw that field of straw bales last summer, and the image suggests some of the things I like about Ontario's landscape.

[twillhead.livejournal.com]

"...like an iota along the length of silver frond." {sigh} Your entries are always lovely and beautifully written, but this one is among your most breathtakingly poetic, lyrical, and majestic yet. And because, I suppose, I live under a rock in rural Massachusetts, I have never played Masterpiece and therefore cannot offer a response to your query. :-(

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Bruce, thank you. It made me happy, writing this post.