Monday, October 9, 2017

Rainy Day and Intimations of Mortality

Yesterday I attended a memorial service for one of the old timers of our 'new people' community. Jane and her husband moved here about the time John and I did and established a pottery in a little cove up a road steeper and rockier than ours.  She was an artist in everything she did, from porcelain bowls to jewelry to gardens to an exuberant yellow chicken house painted with twining flowers.

At the service I found myself looking around, realizing how many friends from those early days are no longer with us.

But most have left their mark -- in the form of children, grandchildren, and even -- in Jane's case -- great- grandchildren still living in the area and still embodying the hopeful, creative spirit that we early transplants waved like a banner.

As I listened to folks share their memories of Jane, I remembered being at a friend's house (up that awful rocky road.)

"Some new folks just moved in to that awful old house above us at the end of the road. She's pregnant and when I went up to visit, there she was, painting a little room for a nursery and just singing with happiness."

That was Jane.


Thérèse said...

"embodying the hopeful, creative spirit that we early transplants waved like a banner"
How much I do love this sentence.

Elizabeth Varadan, Author said...

We encountered a loss of a sweet-souled woman here in our Galicia vacation spot. She was one of the earliest people outside our immediate neighbors to welcome us. She spoke no English, only Galegan, and we always encountered her on the road, herding 5 or 6 cows with her staff. But her face would light up like a lamp when she smiled, and she was such a joyful soul that it made you happy just to exchange greetings. We've been coming here for 12 years, and both my husband and I will sorely miss her. And not just us. She was beloved by all.

KarenB said...

May her memory be a blessing.

Barbara Rogers said...

Sorry for loss of your friend and neighbor. Yes, her creative and innovative spirit contributed so much to the woods, and that story of her painting and singing is so sweet. You all have made a difference in the woods as well, bringing fresh ideas, environmental concerns, sweat and tears to this old land. From another new-comer of just 10 years.

NCmountainwoman said...

I was thrilled to attend a "cousins retreat" on Saturday, hosted by my one remaining aunt. We're all pretty much the same age, with ten years being the difference between the oldest there and the youngest. We talked and talked about our days as children visiting my grandparent's farm. We shared so many memories, especially about those who are no longer with us but who left a mark nonetheless. As I drove back up the mountain, I couldn't help thinking that memories are so dear and life is so precious.

Sorry about the loss of your dear friend. Newbies among the "natives" tend to develop close relationships.

Bernie said...

I am so sorry, to lose an old friend is like losing a part of yourself. May she rest in peace and may your memories bring you comfort. Big hugs my friend, xx

Darla said...

I'm sorry for your loss(es). Thank you for sharing a little of her story; the move you made and the choices you were committed to are inspiring. These last few posts have been a poignant window into your reality. (((BIGHUG)))

Anvilcloud said...

She sounds like a good neighbor who will be missed. (See I spelled neighbour like an American.)