#Sanctuary: Sunshine House Sonnets

[canadachronicles]

"I

The rutted roads are all like iron; skies

Are keen and brilliant; only the oak-leaves cling

In the bare woods, or the hardy bitter-sweet;

Drivers have put their sheepskin jackets on;

And all the ponds are sealed with sheeted ice

That rings with stroke of skate and hockey-stick,

Or in the twilight cracks with running whoop.

Bring in the logs of oak and hickory,

And make an ample blaze on the wide hearth.

Now is the time, with winter o'er the world,

For books and friends and yellow candle-light,

And timeless lingering by the settling fire.

While all the shuddering stars are keen with cold.

II

Out from the silent portal of the hours,

When frosts are come and all the hosts put on.

Their burnished gear to march across the night

And o'er a darkened earth in splendor shine,

Slowly above the world Orion wheels

His glittering square, while on the shadowy hill

And throbbing like a sea-light through the dusk,

Great Sirius rises in his flashing blue.

Lord of the winter night, august and pure,

Returning year on year untouched by time,

To hearten faith with thine unfaltering fire,

There are no hurts that beauty cannot ease,

No ills that love cannot at last repair,

In the victorious progress of the soul.

III

Russet and white and gray is the oak wood

In the great snow. Still from the North it comes,

Whispering, settling, sifting through the trees,

O'erloading branch and twig. The road is lost.

Clearing and meadow, stream and ice-bound pond

Are made once more a trackless wilderness

In the white hush where not a creature stirs;

And the pale sun is blotted from the sky.

In that strange twilight the lone traveller halts

To listen to the stealthy snowflakes fall.

And then far off toward the Stamford shore,

Where through the storm the coastwise liners go,

Faint and recurrent on the muffled air,

A foghorn booming through the Smother--hark!

IV

When the day changed and the mad wind died down,

The powdery drifts that all day long had blown

Across the meadows and the open fields,

Or whirled like diamond dust in the bright sun,

Settled to rest, and for a tranquil hour

The lengthening bluish shadows on the snow

Stole down the orchard slope, and a rose light

Flooded the earth with beauty and with peace.

Then in the west behind the cedars black

The sinking sun stained red the winter dusk

With sullen flare upon the snowy ridge,--

As in a masterpiece by Hokusai,

Where on a background gray, with flaming breath

A scarlet dragon dies in dusky gold."

--The Winter Scene, Bliss Carman (1929)

I did have my Winter Scene after all, I woke to a thick duvet of powdery snow the other day, and walked to the park to watch the sun rise and birds fly over the gorgeous landscape!

[myhelrav]

Let Me Count the Ways

A love song to the house that Rod built

Since the Tauranga project came up, I have, if anything, been even more in love with our house in Karepa Street. And now that the time to leave is so rapidly approaching, I find myself consciously enjoying aspects of the house every day. When the words “how do I love thee? Let me count the ways” came to mind, rather than simply quote them, I checked out the sonnet.

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1806 - 1861

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

Out of the jumbled mess of thoughts about the house that had me stymied at first, came a wee bit of order as I found myself responding to words and phrases:

depth and breadth and height 

I love the physical dimensions and space of the house. Its nooks and crannies - the attic, the storeroom, the secret passage under the stairs. The way you can swing round the column at the bottom of the lower staircase. The “passing bay”, from which I love to look down on the living areas below.  

When we first moved in, I felt like the house flowed around us. It felt incredible.

Walking down the hallway to the sanctuary of my room with its garden view. Seeing our beloved cats, Bill and Ted, peering out at us through their windows in the laundry door.  Hearing tuis by day and moreporks by night. Skidding along the bamboo floor in our socks. Napping on the window seat in the sun.

Coming home to the drama of the views. Oh those views! How much they make us feel connected to the harbour and the hills, the city and the skies.

height my soul can reach

I love the height of the house and the way it’s perched up here on the hill. The way we look up, look down, look out at nature. The way nature can look up, look down and look in at us.  It feeds our souls.

The way autumn compensates for chasing away summer by bringing us more varied skies to watch. The luxury of enjoying bad weather when we’re snug inside. The drama of seeing a southerly coming in.

The ever changing aspect of water and hills stretching away from us.

The relatively short-lived, and therefore much appreciated, colour of our summer garden.  

The pohutakawa tree above us. The wild fruit tree below us. The sight and sound of the birds who visit the garden in such numbers. 

everyday’s most quiet need

I love the serenity. How the different winds can carry the sounds of sirens in the city or big planes at the airport up to us, but the house always feels tranquil.

How quiet my bedroom is at night. You’d never guess you were within walking distance of the central city.  

How often my body knows to look up at dusk and drink in my favourite “Blue Time of View”. It makes my heart sing. Every single time.

How often my baby and I have found each other in the living room on sleepless nights, just sitting and gazing. The nightime view might just be the most peaceful and mesmerising of all.

feeling out of sight

I love the complete privacy from the outside world that we can retreat to in the bedrooms.

The surprise of what’s hiding below the double garage on the drive. 

The perfect possie in the very open living room where I chill in my easy chair, unseen by neighbours.

Our secluded courtyard.

The tiny pond where tiny fish hide from prying eyes.

the ends of being

I love the way boundaries dissolve here. How understandings and perceptions of physical spaces are stretched. How you’re encouraged to look up and out.

The drama of the double height dining room. The many piñatas we’ve hung from the possie struts. The seemingly endless ways Rod found to use the height in our midwinter party decorations.

First time guests getting lost trying to find their way out again.

Having answers to the questions: how do you wash the windows and change the lights?

by sun 

I love the way the house pulls sunshine in.

The tall west-facing window bringing in dappled autumn light. Light reflected by the white house next door, bouncing in through the bathroom windows and lighting up our tunnel of a hallway .

Sunrises over the harbour, pink sunsets gleaming on snow-peaked Tararuas. 

Coming out of the bedroom on a winter morning and seeing the glow of our dawn-filled living area lighting up the end of the hallway.

The never ending temptation to take yet another photo.

and candlelight

I love the “fairyland” the house becomes after dark.

The lights we can play with. Creating a warm glow bringing our focus in, albeit with the ever-present glamour of the city lights below.

All the space to store extra crockery and glasses, chairs and decorations, that we can pull out to make a party out of just about any occasion. 

How much our whanau and friends have also enjoyed the way the house lends itself to celebration. 

with a passion

I love the way we all found room here in which to nurture our passions. We even managed to play cricket in our tiny courtyard! 

How our boys and “my” boys used (and dinged) every inch of the space over nearly 2 decades. 

Talisman, Bionicles, Risk, LOTR, DS Pokémon, computer games, model Ferraris, bikes, bats and balls, books, books and more books, Rubik’s cubes, teacosies and fingerless gloves, wooden spoons, ping pong and beer pong, foosball, waterbombs, remote control Sumo wrestlers, the expanded universe. 15 Karepa St managed to make space for it all.

The new kitchen, full of new toys, that excited us so much when when we first moved in. Where the Cupcake Queen blossomed. Where feasts were planned and created with love and laughter. And where two dishwashers were worn out.

The kitchen splashback tiles that still give me and Rod joy every time we look at them.

breath, smile, tears

I love knowing the whole history of the the house, the sweat that went into its every fibre.  

How it has nurtured us in return.

The care with which Rod designed the laundry around the cats’ needs.  How I could hear Bill padding along the carpet, following us to our rooms. How Ted found his way home when he was desperately ill and barely able to move.

2 small windows, at the bottom of the laundry door, witness to the smiles Bill and Ted brought us. Our tears when they left us. Deciding to bury their ashes here when we go. 

The special light outside the boys’ bunk room. My baby growing out of a cot to a bunk bed to a double bed. My big boy sleeping his way round all 6 bedrooms in his time here. Having each of the 3 boys on a different floor for a few short years. 

The cosy nest we call Grandma’s room which housed my French son for 2 months.

The flexibility of the house. How many different visitors we’ve been able to accomodate in different permutations. 

The different permutations possible for the dining table. The way the pendant lights can swing round so that they sit perfectly above the table, whether it’s side-on or pointing to the kitchen. How there’s room enough that, by adding Rod’s trestle table, we can expand the table into a very long rectangle or, sometimes, a square.

The joy of filling the house with people.

I shall but love thee better after

Here’s to the house that Rod built.

And here’s to its next family. May their love affair last just as long.