Back in June I posted a fragment of the song Who Knows Where the Time Goes, and now here we are, four months later and it's on my mind again. (Lyrics, btw, are by Sandy Denny, 1966, but I know the song as sung by Judy Collins, 1968.) Before, I thought of the reference to spring. Now? It's this:
Across the evening sky
All the birds are leaving
But how can they know
It's time for them to go?
Before the winter fire
I will still be dreaming
I have no thought of time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?
Before, in early June, my mom was still occasionally reading Ocean. I wrote my post thinking of her influence on my life. I often did that.
Now, in mid October, I am free of the worry of how she may read my words. Back then, I wondered if I could perhaps convey a theme that explained me in some way to her. I'm free of that as well. I'm glad. It felt like those years of courting my high school "boy friend" -- I'd be sending light signals all the time. He never got them. I doubt that my mother got any of them either.
Have I stopped being subtle here? I suppose with age, we all do.
Sad, deserted shore
Your fickle friends are leaving
Ah, but then you know
It's time for them to go
But I will still be here
I have no thought of leaving
I do not count the time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?
I've never played that game with Ed. We are both so blunt in our messaging. It's less stressful that way. And we do not (usually) abuse the privilege that it confers. We don't just speak our minds. We are careful. That, too, comes with age.
And I am not alone
While my love is near me
I know it will be so
Until it's time to go
It's another rush of a day, with the same cold morning and bright sunshine and the colors of the few remaining basket flowers...
Same need to get to an appointment. Same late breakfast (with a granola that is the opposite of too sweet!)
And same rush to plant. Today -- 30 bulbs. Only because the soil was easier to work in the areas I planted tulips. I have 115 bulbs left, which tells me that I had way more at the beginning than 325.
So come the storms of winter
And then the birds in spring again
I have no fear of time
For who knows how my love grows?
And who knows where the time goes?
And yes, then it is time to pick up the kids.
We go to the last market of the year. There'll be another one next week, but I wont be here for it.
Ed joins us. And it is a radiant time of sweets and veggies and cheese curds and flowers.
Bye, farmer friends! See you in May.
We are just a block away from the City Hall. Ed and I have prepared our election ballots. We drop them off today. The kids hold on to mine along with me, so you could say they helped cast my vote!
At home...
And in the evening, I cook up veggie soup. Ed puts away the chickens, but he calls me outside. You should see the harvest moon! It's enormously brght!
Shining fully here, over you as well I hope...
