Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Mother and Daughter

Yesterday I took my mother on a Labor Day outing. We drove up Sunshine Canyon to Gold Hill, and then on to Nederland on the Peak to Peak Highway, returning to Boulder down Boulder Canyon. Our mission was to confirm or disconfirm the rumor I had heard from Grandpa that the aspen had started to turn – indeed, were 75 percent turned.

Rumor: disconfirmed! We did see some few precious glimpses of gold here and there, but I would say the aspen are 5 percent turned. Still, that 5 percent was lovely enough to warrant our expedition. Maybe just one shimmering golden leaf would have been enough?

In the car my mother was telling me about a poetry book she recently acquired that has so many poetic gems in it: “The one by Leigh Hunt – “Jenny Kissed Me.” I recited it for her from memory on the spot. “And there was this beautiful one by William Butler Yeats, about a woman who is growing old. . .” “When you are old and grey and full of sleep,” I began “and nodding by the fire, take down this book. . . “

That is one of the deepest bonds you can have with another person: that you love all of the same poems, and can quote them to each other on an early autumn afternoon.

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