This Monday was radiant with sunlight. And the morning had a ribbon of robin’s trill about it, to call us back from our dreams. James smiled across his pillow.
“Listen to that, Ellen!” he said. Another run of notes flooded the air-waves of the sunny blue day. “It’s what I’ve been waiting for all winter” he offered. And here over every wind of chimney and snowstorm, past every white drift and as well every delight of the season, the time of the singing birds was here. The words of Solomon’s Springsong came to mind: “My beloved spoke and said to me… come away. For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come and the voice of the turtle is head in our land; the fig tree putteth forth her green figs and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell…”
“This is no time to be lying in bed” James said, presently throwing off the covers.
“With the sun burning a hole in our backs” we giggled finishing the quote.
The small terrier which is Gages pet and delight is to Granddaughter’s mind “the cutest thing” now. Mack was careful to close the door against his pup this morning when he lifted and carried a lamb the length of the sheep-shed. “Just to see the ewe follow me.”
“It’s as though she is marching” he smiled over shoulder. “She’s keeping time to my steps…There now” he said putting the youngster down gently before her, “you were afraid I was going to harm your baby, weren’t you? You should know me better than that. He liked being in my arms. Why, he was so happy he didn’t even bleat… They’re something like little pigs” he nodded soberly to us “it’s all in the way you pick them up.”
“See this, Mrs. Ellen!” our friend sparrow called resting something on the rosebush beyond the window today.
“Now, what is it?” we asked perring out. “Cord perhaps? Ravellings from feed-sacks the farmers open?”
“It’s better than that— look again!”
“Why, it’s a piece of yarn!” we said softly.
“Uh-huh!”
“Soft pink yarn!” we exclaimed intrigued at the sight.
“Call that pink! I’d say it was a pastel blue.”
“Well whichever… where did you get it?”
“Again I can’t say” he nodded with a mysterious grin. “But as the old lady in the fairytale said, “There’s something in the wind somewhere I’d say.”
“And you won’ tell?”
“Can’t— to be exact.”
“Oh dear” we sighed turning away to our work.
Today is going now— out on an amber sailboat of moon, over a silverblue sea. It came in on the warm thrill of a robin-to-be —all in all, a good day
-Ellen’s Diary, April 15th, 1957
Source: islandnewspapers.ca