Finn… Lago di Garda April 2002
aw rummaging through old photos, always loved this one of Finn forlorn, a cold rainy day, on holiday in italy
of course, his expression sums up how many of us are feeling through this socially bereft, thin gruel of a winter, well me anyway!
yet nostalgia a more curious beast… remember…
the sun has set behind the looming hills, sky coaxes, then summons colours from the water, turquoise and tangerine
all is serene, a gentle, benign lapping, as a coast dweller i am so used to the qualms of restless water
Finn and I are down on the waters edge, showing him how to skim stones
owl hoots, rhymes and doggerel, building snow men… and stone skipping… a beauty to share fun things with our kids… reminds us, of course, of those who lovingly first taught us
the beach is littered with a myriad of plate smithereens! all blue willow pattern fragments, as tho there had been a frenzied exstasis of crockery smashing! that, or this the site of an old pottery factory?
picking some of the larger fragments, their soft heft, the way they sit, cocked, between finger and palm… surface, blue ink tattooed, super smooth, with a frazzle puzzled glaze
too beautiful to hurl? but we are mightier, more marvelous, by that which we throw away
flat stones. flat lake. perfect.
skip… skip… skip… skip… kersplosh
mind follows this stone weave, away, gentle, softening to this, the distance of memory
