"I haven't told my garden yet" - a novel by Pia Pera

 

I seldom recommend a book, and this one from the late author Pia Pera I haven't finished yet. But I am utterly fascinated - though it is a kind of literature I seldom read - as you might know by now I most often prefer novels with an optimistic ending, something that lifts my mood, and if it makes me laugh: all the better. 

In the introduction to this book Pia Pera quotes a poem by Emily Dickinson - "I haven't told my garden yet" (I will show it in my blog "Happiness of the Day" under www.burstingwithhappiness.blogspot.com)  As I do not love the German translation of Emily's poem in that book I dare to give the German readers of my blog a new one. 

Pia writes that the change of perspective towards death in that poem has impressed her. 

"The care about the animated and the unanimated beings, whom we in a certain way have deceived by making them used to our presence. Without warning them of the unavoidable défaillance: that we are here and now raises the expectation that we will always be there - an untenable promise.    I liked the idea that by such a reversal the egoism would be subdued, that when thinking of one's owns death one quasi wants to apologise for the involuntary disappearance. And that instead of worrying about oneself one should ask how it will be for the others, not for us."  

The book of Pia Pera is so full of wisdom - so comforting in face of her nearing death - I really recommend it - at least to all lovers of gardens. 

So - maybe I should have put it on my blog "...sunshine, freedom and a little flower"(www.blumenundgarten.blogspot.com) - but I think it is much more than a good garden book. 

It starts with the sentence: 

"On one day in June some years ago remarked a man who said he loved me in a reproachful tone that I limped." 

As above it is my translation from the German version - but look at the distance, coldness and the contempt in "a man who said he ...". 

But don't get me wrong: 

it is a book without hate - it is warm and relaxed and relaxing in face of an incurable illness. 

Our lantern procession on St.Martin's Day

 

The lantern procedure yesterday was lovely! I didn't take many photos as I was occupied "to live fully in the moment" - meaning: chasing after one or the other (or the other!) of the triplets. There were about 50 children, but many more grown-ups. 

Electric light bulbs in the lanterns - that was less "cozy" as in Olden Times, though very calming because in Olden Times wishing didn't always still help and some lanterns got up in flames. 

Yesterday luckily that didn't happen to any of all those masterpieces, very beautiful or bizzare and mostly self handcrafted lanterns - the triplets had funny hedgehogs, we saw owls, sheep, fishes and whatsoever. 

If you stare VERY hard - and use your faith and trust me completely - in the picture above you might make out in the background a person with a Father Christmas cap (why?) and a - well... horse would be boasting - it was a little pony (all ponies are little, dear Britta!) - yeah, true, but this one was a pigmy pony - covered with a red blanket and shining light bulbs. (Here it looks like the theatre figure of a horse or donkey where two persons are clad in one costume).  

But no: this one was "the real thing". 

Though this real thing was very nervous. 

Same as Saint Martin, who was a five year old boy in a red cape wearing a golden helmet - the parson told the story - St. Martin draw his sword - and after three attempts managed to cut the cape into two parts - one he donated to the beggar. 

We all sang loud the lantern procession songs - "I go with my lantern/ and my lantern goes with me. / Above us shine the stars/ and below we are shining." We were accompanied by a real huge Bavarian brass band - and looked up to the stars, and marched a long way to a farm, where they served warm St. Martin's crescent rolls and drinks.