Early walk

Richard and Diana were up soon after 5 a.m., and on their way to the ferry from Birkenhead to Belfast. R will be back next Tuesday. I took advantage of the early start to get out to Woolley Wood, wanting to see whether bluebells were in flower yet. The first few are showing; no big expanses yet, but just delicate clusters here and there.  It was blissful.

Yesterday I saw this poem (below) posted online by the writer and activist Rebecca Solnit. The poem is by Adrienne Rich, whose work I used to read a lot in the past. I think I'll be going back to it.  This one captures something about these weeks.

IN THOSE YEARS
In those years, people will say, we lost track
of the meaning of we, of you
we found ourselves
reduced to I
and the whole thing became
silly, ironic, terrible:
we were trying to live a personal life
and yes, that was the only life
we could bear witness to
But the great dark birds of history screamed and plunged
into our personal weather
They were headed somewhere else but their beaks and pinions drove
along the shore, through the rags of fog
where we stood, saying I

Adrienne Rich