What I would like to capture in this virtual space are moments of joy. Like the moment Jack Lewis’ big brother Warnie squatted down beside him, perhaps breathless, shirt tail coming untucked, holding in trembling, grubby hands a tiny botanical world in the overturned cover of a biscuit tin. Over the next sixty years Jack would go back to that crystalized moment and re-feel his delight.
For me, birdsong does it. For Connie, fireflies. I love the smells and sounds and stillness that draw me right into the experience with her: Deep damp earthy smells. . . bits of swirling mist. . . mountains beyond the forest thicket mirrored in the smooth-as-glass waters of the rice fields and silhouetted against a moonlit sky.. . little golden lights blinking and disappearing through the forest over the rice fields and between blades of grass. . . Careful where I walked. . . arms out, palms up. . . fireflies landing on our hands, arms…sometimes my hair!
The frogs and the river singing their night song. . . occasionally accompanied by a giggle in the dark. . .coming from a child enchanted by the little golden creatures of light. . . Children fresh from a Japanese bath smelling like soap walking carefully, their hands cupped–gently holding their lighted treasure. . .
[M]agical. . . honestly magical…