Sylvia's Journal

The light in the cove this morning is beautiful in the way only cold landscapes, with the right light and at the right time, can be beautiful. How I wish was fast and agile enough to catch the surprising mix of colors in a water color painting. But the colors can only be seen when the sun is at the right angle and the moment is fleeting. In a matter of minutes the flaming oranges and pinks are gone and only blue, white, grey and brown remain; it is still beautiful, but the spark is gone.

Yesterday we saw an exhibit at the Peabody Essex Museum, Axel for the second time, of polar landscapes painted by a handful of artists in the last few centuries. These people went to great length to paint, and at great costs, the land-,sea-, and skyscapes they saw at the end of the earth (this is also the title of the exhibit). The intensity and majesty of the pieces they produced would have seemed fantastic and imaginary had they not had proof they had been there through eyewitnesses or photographs. Even in our far from the end of the world place, in winter, I can see glimpses of what they saw, at no greater cost than getting up in time.

Earlier in the day we had gone to see Fatou in her new apartment, a tiny space in an enormous mansion that has ‘moneypit’ written all over it. It is OK for one person but her son has come back from military duty in Oman and landed in the only place he could. She has given him her spacious bedroom, the biggest room in the apartment, while she sleeps on the couch in the living room until he figures out what next.

She greeted us wearing an Obama sweatshirt and when we left she added an Obama hat to the ensemble. Like me, it was her first presidential vote and we congratulated each other on our unblemished voting record. As Fatou always does, she fed us African food, a Mafe stew (beef in a spicy peanut sauce) that made Axel break out in hot pepper sweats and then, as she also always does, she sent us home with a couple of African meals for later.

In the evening we sat by the fire to paint and to knit while we listened to Elizabeth Gilbert read from her own book (Eat, Pray, Love). Inspired by the exhibit Axel pulled out the water colors, and I worked on a piece of knitting that had been waiting since my carpal tunnel operation, for an as yet unknown baby to be born in the new year.