Such a long break, again…
In my previous text I said something about the tiny little crack in my
otherwise fine summer. I’d be repeating myself far too much if I ended up
writing about it again – but it does deserve a mention. It’s been two years
since our summer cottage burned down and I strongly doubt I’ll ever get used to that. That simple,
modest place was the closest thing to a paradise I’ve ever known. Every time
our white, tiny boat reached the bank I was filled with deepest tranquility. I
used to sit on the porch for hours watching the sun go down, listening to the
night, I used to go for a swim early in the morning when the world was just about to
awake. I’ll never have that again. What kind of constancy is there to believe
in if even paradise isn’t eternal?
Well, there are paradises of another kind.
Yes, I’m a bookworm and enjoy books as such but I’m also an escapist.
Some of the places I yearn for aren’t real, and here are the ones I hold
dearest:
1. Gardens of Lórien in Valinor.
‘Irmo the younger is the master of visions and dreams. In Lórien are his
gardens in the land of the Valar, and they are the fairest of all places in the
world, filled with many spirits. Estë the gentle, healer of hurts and of
weariness, is his spouse. Grey is her raiment; and rest is her gift. She walks
not by day, but sleeps upon an island in the tree-shadowed lake of Lórellin.
From the fountains of Irmo and Estë all those who dwell in Valinor draw
refreshment; and often the Valar come themselves to Lórien and there find repose
and easing of the burdens of Arda.’ (Silmarillion,
19.)
Spend the weekend admiring the Perseids. Always so wonderful.
2. Lothlórien
‘He saw no colour but those he knew, gold and white and blue and green,
but they were fresh and poignant, as if he had at that moment first perceived
them and made for them names new and wonderful. In winter here no heart could
mourn for summer or for spring. No blemish or sickness or deformity could be
seen in anything that grew upon the earth. On the land of Lórien there was no
stain.’ (The Lord of the Rings, 359.)
3. Ramandu’s island
Alas I don’t have the wonderful Voyage
of the Dawn Treader with me right now so my plain description will have to
do. Ramandu, an old man once a star that grew too old, landed on earth and
dwelled on an island far in the east. This island was the last one of all, the
last place before the end of the world. The song of the old man and his daughter
is believed to cause the sun to rise, and every morning white birds from the
valleys of the sun visit the island. I’ve always been particularly fascinated
by islands, especially those associated with world’s end. Remote and
unreachable, they preoccupy my mind and make me ache for the nonexistent,
places not even real in the world as we know it.
I'm so happy to see this time of year arrive. I am fond of summer
but autumn is still my favourite.
