“My lady’s hair is white as milk and dainty lace is o’er it spread.” and I sit wondering how time has spread so richly into life as I sat pondering and gazing through windows at the seasons.
“a glittering cloud, a darkling beam, with all the quiet of a thought” but what will remember of it, when my hair is white as milk, as I see my reflection in the turbulent waters, and notice an eye blackened with the discovery of my failings.
Yet I gaze with “all the passion of a dream, linked in a golden spell together.”
I found pieces of poems in an antique book and added them to this piece, knowing they might help with the meaning at some point. When the painting and collaging is done, I write for 5 minutes without stopping about what I see, and that’s what is shown above, with quotes for the parts that were borrowed from the poem pieces.
It spoke to me of my experience of visiting my mother and mother -in -law, 92 and 82 respectively, and living in the same assisted living home where I visit them weekly, entering their worlds and noticing how the world looks and feels when your “hair is white as milk” and you are looking back on your life, which now feels like a dream which you cannot change.
This is a valentine to my mothers. I offer them my love and gratitude for the wisdom they have to offer me even as I bring them library books and medicines and the gift of my (relative) youth. We are mirrors for each other.