There are things we never forget

For Paul Brookes’ challenge, 30DaysWild.

Painting by Mary Cassat

There are things we never forget

like skies, windy,
with the cutting edge of spring,
scudding clouds
and the song, drifting earthwards,
of the skylark,

still light, throbbing with heat
and only half-cool shade,
limp leaves,
sunlight sliding like melted butter,
butterflies and bee-buzz,
first blackberries,

and the heavy air, salt-sticky,
loud with gulls and the crash of the waves,
foam-hiss,
the running rippling of outgoing rills,
rolling grains of sifted sand
between bare toes.

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Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

22 thoughts on “There are things we never forget”

      1. It’s true, and it’s really special when you’re a child. For the longest time I imagined the taste of plums and nectarines with sand grit because we ate them at the beach.๐Ÿ˜€

      2. I guess we had grapes at other times. But I have a fun grapes memory–my piano teacher had grapes vines growing on her porch–overhead. It was. little twin house, and she would let us pick and eat them.

      3. Pearl was “a character.” I think she was a good teacher, and she really liked me. She was a little older than my mom, and I guess they knew some of the same people. She would have been called “Bohemian” when she was young, I suppose. ๐Ÿ˜€

      4. My parents had to sell ours when they moved. It was too big for their smaller house. It was a baby grand and as well as being big enough to play houses underneath, it was strung like a harpsichord and caused problems with the tuning.

      5. I got the piano–wait for it–a baby grand–when my mom sold her house and moved to an apartment. Apparently I chipped the ivory keys when I was little–though I have no memory of it. We had something done years ago–perhaps restringing. And now it’s badly out of tune since it hasn’t been tuned since before the epidemic. I haven’t played in ages, but I hate to give it up. ๐Ÿ˜Š

      6. I wonder if it was restrung because it was strung like a harpsichord? Wonder if it was ours? I can’t remember the name except that it was similar to Steinway but wasn’t Steinway.
        I stopped piano lessons torture when I was eleven and had the excuse of going to secondary school and wouldn’t have time to practice. I did try to pick my way through bits of Chopin and Moore’s Melodies but I didn’t have enough of the technique to get very far. And I have small hands that don’t span an octave.

      7. Ours was probably German. Old too. My parents bought it in a house sale along with some Victorian furniture.
        Not being able to reach the notes was one of my excuses for being rubbish ๐Ÿ™‚

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