Thing #1 :: The way the floor shakes when the elders walk up the center aisle of the church in unison. I wait for this, two times every week, as they're distributing the Lord's Supper. For some reason it just gets to me! I had to put it in a book, Allemande to be exact, because it was such a tangible thing.
The organ sang out, the strains of the hymn rising into the high ceiling, echoing wonderfully down the nave. I could almost feel the deep tones of the foot-pedals humming through the pew into my back. Then the organ burst into a resounding chord and died away, leaving silence still colourful to my ears.
I caught a metallic clink from far behind me—the distinctive sound of a shining plate being passed. Then the elders walked forward in unison, up the aisle toward the front of the church.
I scooted forward on the pew until my feet reached the floor. I laid the soles of my shoes flat against the stone and waited. The six elders approached steadily, rank on rank of feet. They passed our pew and the vibrations of their footsteps travelled into my feet. I smiled broadly as they passed and settled back into the pew.
Why did I like the feeling of all those feet marching solidly up the aisle? I couldn’t explain it, but it seemed one of those odd pleasures allowed to me, since I couldn’t see. Others had the way the daffodils’ stems bent at the head; the way pale green and pale pink looked so well together; the way snow glowed in the little shower of light from a lamppost. I had the reverberating footsteps of the elders as they took the communion plates to the front. It was almost enough.
When I was young, Mum made me a big, heavy book, bulging with thick pages. It overflowed my lap when I opened it and spread my fingers on the page. She pasted a bouquet of textile delights into the hefty paper. Thick velvet, and rabbit pelt, and sandpapers of various coarseness. A cool, sticky piece of flat silicone, a wrinkled piece of paper pulp, and a square of shaggy carpeting. Leaves with distinct, raised veins, Chinese coins with holes in the middle, lumpy woollen yarn—every spread became an exploration.
I traced the embossed cover of the hymnal as I stood to sing the hymns I knew by heart. And the echoes of my thoughts surged through me like the shaking of the floor under the feet of the ages.
Thing #2 :: Fences in the fields in the summer...
Man, a scene like that just makes me crazy... When you're driving out (South until the streets stop!) and you get to a hillside with a big green field and a fence and a bunch of black cows... Maaaan. That's it, I'm telling you.
Thing #3 :: The way the leaves rustling sounds just like the ocean...
I love the sea. I love the Great Lakes. I love little lakes. I love cow ponds. Okay, I love water, period. But I live in landlocked Kansas. Small problem, yes? But it doesn't matter! It makes all the difference when the spring finally comes and the trees leaf out at last. It's amazing.
Anyway, so that's what I've been thinking about lately. I've been writing Chapter 7 on and off while working on this post (pictures take for blooming ever to upload) and I think I've just finished it. AND once again, I didn't actually get to the point I was hoping for (reporting to the Admiral) but it's already 1,000 words over my goal/limit. So, I guess we'll arrive at the fort NEXT chapter! *sighs*
AMZi x x x x x