A Killing Frost is Expected.Posted: March 26, 2012
I remember from university literature courses how the Romantic poets found their emotions reflected in Nature. Ever feel like you were born in the wrong century? I might do without cell phone, television, ipad, computer, automobile–if I could go wander the moors amidst the heather and come home to the warmth of a fire and the glow of candlelight, a stone hearth and freshly-baked bread.
Fortunately, I have an imagination and a selective one at that. There is never any consumption wracking me in a cold hard Romantic bed, for instance, and never any livestock, or at least any requiring me to wake at dawn to feed them. I’m sure that there must be a black stallion, however, upon which a dashing man in a black cape rides to my rescue when it starts to rain.
Oh wait, that’s Austen… Sense and Sensibility, I think. (So much for my imagination!) That would make me, rescued in the rain, Marianne Dashwood. (Would I rather be Elinor? I am probably more like Elinor. She was sensible and responsible and didn’t wear her heart on her sleeve. She probably would have done so only on wordpress.)
So, you see how my feeble mind works.
Here is your latest dash of Romanticism, and any of you who have been following here can deduce therein where this present-day damsel is with regards to her romantic dilemmas:
A Killing Frost is Expected.
A killing frost is expected
in the hill country far from here,
where the scillas blue and snow drops bloom,
happy, delicate even in their profusion,
while here I stuggle to know
what is love, what is illusion.
There are no answers in your eyes,
while mine, moody blue,
deep and pure,
Restless as they are,
how can I be sure?
Is not what we are hoping for.
I kiss you with all that is in me,
with all that is in me and more.
A killing frost is expected,
But how can I be sure?
Not only should I give credit to Austen, but to the Moody Blues as well. Good for any of you readers who picked up on those allusions; I seem to have borrowed the band name, played with titles, and channelled Nights in White Satin : “We decide which is right,/And which is an illusion”. Is there anyone else out there who heard this song as a little girl (0r boy) and envisioned it as Knights in White Satin? Clear into adulthood I did, and I pictured the lead singer on a white stallion, rescuing said damsel, of course. At least I am a consistent romantic.
I note also the Romanticism in The Story in Your Eyes. “Listen to the tide slowly turning/Wash all our heartaches away…”
For me, for us here, the bottom line is this: we can’t count on any rescue, we can’t wait for the knight on his white stallion or Austen’s Colonel Branden to rescue us from the rain. We have to do our best, be strong, make our best decisions with the information we have at hand and in our hearts.
Thank you, kind readers, for your thoughts heretofore. They are always welcome and always a pleasure. Camaraderie is a wonderful thing.
I’ll keep you posted.