There has not been a single day since I came to Cambridge when haven’t gazed at the canvas beyond my window and seen another work of art.
Whether it’s the entire landscape, clad in red and gold and rust, a brilliant snowscape in ever changing light, or just a group of trees that catches my eye in a particular way, I never cease to be excited.
Sometimes it’s the tiniest thing that gets me. I was delighted to find that my house is a home to ladybirds (ladybugs?). I love to let them crawl aboard, to feel their microscopic feet on my finger, and I tell them how much they are appreciated, what wonderful creations they are.
Seven months on, I have still not quite worked out what it was that happened to me as I flew overnight across the States, to my new home upstate New York. I only know that the person who boarded that flight in Seattle was not the person who arrived at JFK in the greying light of dawn.
I have always suffered from terrible separation anxiety, and knowing this, I deliberately avoided saying “goodbye” in Washington. It was fortunate, ironically, that my move was fraught with difficulties that forestalled actual planning.When the pieces finally fell, not quite where I wanted them, but certainly into place, I was too busy scrambling to even consider the feelings that may have overwhelmed me.
It’s as if I wrapped up all my old baggage and tied it up with any regrets I might have had and left it all behind. If I had thought about it, I am sure I would not have considered this possible. I had no preconceived ideas or expectations of how I would feel when I took up life in my new home. I just came here and got on with it.
One day I picked up a pine cone out under the trees. It was so perfect, I couldn’t bear to set it down. I looked at it again the other day and thought how wonderful Nature is. She provides endless works of art to lift the heart. One needs only to be able to see them, and maybe that is my answer. I arrived here in the brilliance of Autumn and how could one not be touched by such a spectacle?