Fluvialia ≈≈ Mia's blog
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Salut. You’re looking at the view we look at every morning, here at Lys Vert, and I want to give you news of it, among other bits of news. Do you think perhaps I’ll regret being anchored in all this snow on the website as the season advances? Hah! Actually I don’t think so, and certainly I hope not, but let me tell you about it.
It looks somewhat different now; it’s low tide at the moment – we can actually see tides again – some weeks later than the view you see, but already, much of the fleuve is blue now, not white with snow and ice. And right on target – at the acceptable hour, spring equinox, couple of days ago – the first geese returned. Not yet the snow geese I refer to in my preface to our first published book (which you can read about elsewhere on the site), but migratories nonetheless. They’ll be moving on. They and some other newcomers, 2 black-backed gulls, 2 sandpipers, and the inveterate here-to-stay crows, are feeding in the low-tide flats beyond the remaining ice.
The ice floes arrive, and leave, our own regatta; farther down they get caught in the bay and look like a yacht club. But it’s all on the move, all breaking up, all responding to St Ffraed’s arms thrust into the ice to release spring.
I owe that to a fine Welsh poet, Ruth Bidgood, and her ‘Invocation’, which calls on Ffraed to ‘walk on the riverbank’,
…the Saint, the golden one,
We greet her from her churches and her wells,
The Anglicanism we live daily here in our prayer is much tempered to the tonalities of the Celtic scale. You may know all about it. (But I don’t presume on that. Maybe for another day, that conversation?) And Ffraed among them. Fresh seasons are in the air, and new things are in our plans here at the Press, as well. I’ll try to keep you posted as they mature.
Annie Dillard once wrote you could call her anytime if you wanted to talk about the weather, and I know what that passion feels like. Lys Vert windows look out on a lot of weather.
It’s a new season, a first season, at this Press. We have just one book out. We’re bootstrapping – lifting ourselves by the impossible method. I’m always on the lookout for translators from English to French with a foolhardy passion for doing a fine thing for a song and a joy. With ears for poetry and nuance, and with wide-open theological curiosity.
I want to share the riches of Anglicanism. I want to hear it go into French. I want it to be available [...] Next
The practice of silence…, the regular undertaking of an intentional form of ‘dispossession’, underwrites and progressively transforms all that one goes on receiving from those other sources [Scripture, tradition, reason].