Tuesday, 16 October 2012
Today dawned and looked promising. I'm not sure what it looked as though it was promising but it was definitely promising something.
I've been gardening for fortyodd years. I've done a lot of gardening. I have moved hundreds, yes hundreds, of tons of soil and stone making gardens. Did I enjoy it? Well that's not so easy to answer. It kept me fit when I had a desk job. Most people I know who love gardening enjoy it as a therapy. I've never really enjoyed it. It's something I do because I have to and because the result gives me satisfaction: satisfaction but not enjoyment. Until today. Today I spent a large part of a sunny, windless, cold (and midge-free!) day in the garden. And I very much enjoyed it. The situation helps, of course.
By 5.30 this evening I ached. I did something I rarely do: I ran the spa bath and lay in very hot water and when the spa didn't drown it out I listened to the symphony that I would take with me to a desert island if I was only allowed one. Of course I'd never want to make that choice because what I want to listen to depends on my mood - like most people I assume. In this case though it's a piece of music which connects deeply with me. It is Dvorak's First Symphony: The Bells of Zlonice. It's not a particularly popular piece in the concert halls but the second movement contains, for me, some of the most moving phrases. I don't pretend to have a good musical ear but this is one of the pieces of which I have multiple recordings and actually have an outright favourite: Witold Rowiki's London Symphony Orchestra 1971 recording.