The Blue House

Photo by Deleece Cook on Unsplash

It is night with glaring sunshine. I stand in the woods and look towards my house with its misty blue walls. As though I were recently dead and saw the house from a new angle.

It has stood for more than eighty summers. Its timber has been impregnated, four times with joy and three times with sorrow. When someone who has lived in the house dies it is repainted. The dead person paints it himself, without a brush, from the inside.

On the other side is open terrain. Formerly a garden, now wilderness. A still surf of weed, pagodas of weed, an unfurling body of text, Upanishades of weed, a Viking fleet of weed, dragon heads, lances, an empire of weed.

Above the overgrown garden flutters the shadow of a boomerang, thrown again and again. It is related to someone who lived in the house long before my time. Almost a child. An impulse issues from him, a thought, a thought of will: "create. . .draw. .." In order to escape his destiny in time.

The house resembles a child's drawing. A deputizing childishness which grew forth because someone prematurely renounced the charge of being a child. Open the doors, enter! Inside unrest dwells in the ceiling and peace in the walls. Above the bed there hangs an amateur painting representing a ship with seventeen sails, rough sea and a wind which the gilded frame cannot subdue.

It is always so early in here, it is before the crossroads, before the irrevocable choices. I am grateful for this life! And yet I miss the alternatives. All sketches wish to be real.

A motor far out on the water extends the horizon of the summer night. Both joy and sorrow swell in the magnifying glass of the dew. We do not actually know it, but we sense it: our life has a sister vessel which plies an entirely different route. While the sun burns behind the islands.

~ Tomas Tranströmer

Translated by Göran Malmqvist

Out of Town

Source: Favim

Years later, the water still drips— 

there's no one to tighten the valve. 

It courses through old pipes 

down to the septic tank. 

Next morning in the cellar 

I start the motor with a stick. 

It shakes and rumbles, and chirps— 

the switch is broken is all. 

At night the water arrives 

illegally, undergroundly, 

to the very grave where 

last spring parsley sprouted, 

and at the foot, beside it, 

feral sorrel darkens 

tastily and tartly 

like clandestine sex. 

The motor lifts the spirits 

and returns the night's deductions. 

It's morning, I hum softly— 

a stranger will replace me. 

In the cellar a stream of light 

rinses the window grate, 

it pulses, strikes the meter— 

I catch my rhythm on the stairs. 

And for memory's sake I hum— 

as I pass the septic tank— 

a fluid, underground song 

about sorrel and a stranger.

~ Piotr Sommer

House: Some Instructions

(May Savidge, who spent 23 years single-handedly dismantling her cottage brick by brick and rebuilding it 100 miles away)
Source: MailOnline 

If you have a house

you must think about it all the time  

as you reside in the house so

it must be a home in your mind

you must ask yourself (wherever you are)  

have I closed the front door

and the back door is often forgotten  

not against thieves necessarily

but the wind   oh   if it blows  

either door open   then the heat

the heat you’ve carefully nurtured  

with layers of dry hardwood

and a couple of opposing green  

brought in to slow the fire

as well as the little pilot light  

in the convenient gas backup

all of that care will be mocked because  

you have not kept the house on your mind

but these may actually be among  

the smallest concerns   for instance

the house could be settling   you may  

notice the thin slanting line of light

above the doors   you have to think about that  

luckily you have been paying attention

the house’s dryness can be humidified  

with vaporizers in each room and pots

of water on the woodstove   should you leave  

for the movies after dinner   ask yourself

have I turned down the thermometer

and moved all wood paper away from the stove

the fiery result of excited distraction  

could be too horrible to describe

now we should talk especially to Northerners  

of the freezing of the pipe   this can often

be prevented by pumping water continuously  

through the baseboard heating system

allowing the faucet to drip drip continuously  

day and night   you must think about the drains

separately   in fact you should have established  

their essential contribution to the ordinary

kitchen and toilet life of the house  

digging these drains deep into warm earth

if it hasn’t snowed by mid-December you  

must cover them with hay   sometimes rugs

and blankets have been used   do not be  

troubled by their monetary value

as this is a regionally appreciated emergency  

you may tell your friends to consider

your house as their own   that is  

if they do not wear outdoor shoes

when thumping across the gleam of their poly-

urethaned floors they must bring socks or slippers

to your house as well   you must think  

of your house when you’re in it and

when you’re visiting the superior cabinets  

and closets of others   when you approach

your house in the late afternoon

in any weather   green or white   you will catch

sight first of its new aluminum snow-resistant  

roof and the reflections in the cracked windows

its need in the last twenty-five years for paint  

which has created a lovely design

in russet pink and brown   the colors of un-

intentioned neglect   you must admire the way it does not

(because of someone’s excellent decision

sixty years ago) stand on the high ridge deforming

the green profile of the hill but rests in the modesty  

of late middle age under the brow of the hill with

its back to the dark hemlock forest looking steadily

out for miles toward the cloud refiguring meadows and

mountains of the next state   coming up the road

by foot or auto the house can be addressed personally

House!   in the excitement of work and travel to

other people’s houses with their interesting improvements

we thought of you often and spoke of your coziness

in winter   your courage in wind and fire   your small

airy rooms in humid summer   how you nestle in spring

into the leaves and flowers of the hawthorn and the sage green

leaves of the Russian olive tree   House!   you were not forgotten

~ Grace Paley

House: Some Instructions

(May Savidge, who spent 23 years single-handedly dismantling her cottage brick by brick and rebuilding it 100 miles away)
Source: MailOnline 

If you have a house

you must think about it all the time  

as you reside in the house so

it must be a home in your mind

you must ask yourself (wherever you are)  

have I closed the front door

and the back door is often forgotten  

not against thieves necessarily

but the wind   oh   if it blows  

either door open   then the heat

the heat you’ve carefully nurtured  

with layers of dry hardwood

and a couple of opposing green  

brought in to slow the fire

as well as the little pilot light  

in the convenient gas backup

all of that care will be mocked because  

you have not kept the house on your mind

but these may actually be among  

the smallest concerns   for instance

the house could be settling   you may  

notice the thin slanting line of light

above the doors   you have to think about that  

luckily you have been paying attention

the house’s dryness can be humidified  

with vaporizers in each room and pots

of water on the woodstove   should you leave  

for the movies after dinner   ask yourself

have I turned down the thermometer

and moved all wood paper away from the stove

the fiery result of excited distraction  

could be too horrible to describe

now we should talk especially to Northerners  

of the freezing of the pipe   this can often

be prevented by pumping water continuously  

through the baseboard heating system

allowing the faucet to drip drip continuously  

day and night   you must think about the drains

separately   in fact you should have established  

their essential contribution to the ordinary

kitchen and toilet life of the house  

digging these drains deep into warm earth

if it hasn’t snowed by mid-December you  

must cover them with hay   sometimes rugs

and blankets have been used   do not be  

troubled by their monetary value

as this is a regionally appreciated emergency  

you may tell your friends to consider

your house as their own   that is  

if they do not wear outdoor shoes

when thumping across the gleam of their poly-

urethaned floors they must bring socks or slippers

to your house as well   you must think  

of your house when you’re in it and

when you’re visiting the superior cabinets  

and closets of others   when you approach

your house in the late afternoon

in any weather   green or white   you will catch

sight first of its new aluminum snow-resistant  

roof and the reflections in the cracked windows

its need in the last twenty-five years for paint  

which has created a lovely design

in russet pink and brown   the colors of un-

intentioned neglect   you must admire the way it does not

(because of someone’s excellent decision

sixty years ago) stand on the high ridge deforming

the green profile of the hill but rests in the modesty  

of late middle age under the brow of the hill with

its back to the dark hemlock forest looking steadily

out for miles toward the cloud refiguring meadows and

mountains of the next state   coming up the road

by foot or auto the house can be addressed personally

House!   in the excitement of work and travel to

other people’s houses with their interesting improvements

we thought of you often and spoke of your coziness

in winter   your courage in wind and fire   your small

airy rooms in humid summer   how you nestle in spring

into the leaves and flowers of the hawthorn and the sage green

leaves of the Russian olive tree   House!   you were not forgotten

~ Grace Paley

Quote: Home

Source: Unknown/Favim

Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.

~ Sarah Dessen

Quote: Home

Source: Unknown/Favim

Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.

~ Sarah Dessen

Quote: Closure

Source: Pinterest/Favim

Standing here, in this quiet house where I can hear the birds chirping out back, I think I’m kind of getting the concept of closure. It’s no big dramatic before-after. It’s more like that melancholy feeling you get at the end of a really good vacation. Something special is ending, and you’re sad, but you can’t be that sad because, hey, it was good while it lasted, and there’ll be other vacations, other good times.

~ Gayle Forman

Quote: Closure

Source: Pinterest/Favim

Standing here, in this quiet house where I can hear the birds chirping out back, I think I’m kind of getting the concept of closure. It’s no big dramatic before-after. It’s more like that melancholy feeling you get at the end of a really good vacation. Something special is ending, and you’re sad, but you can’t be that sad because, hey, it was good while it lasted, and there’ll be other vacations, other good times.

~ Gayle Forman

Locking Yourself Out, Then Trying to Get Back In

Photo Credit: Ahmad Kavousian

You simply go out and shut the door

without thinking. And when you look back

at what you’ve done

it’s too late. If this sounds

like the story of a life, okay.

It was raining. The neighbors who had

a key were away. I tried and tried

the lower windows. Stared

inside at the sofa, plants, the table

and chairs, the stereo set-up.

My coffee cup and ashtray waited for me

on the glass-topped table, and my heart

went out to them. I said, Hello, friends,

or something like that. After all,

this wasn’t so bad.

Worse things had happened. This

was even a little funny. I found the ladder.

Took that and leaned it against the house.

Then climbed in the rain to the deck,

swung myself over the railing

and tried the door. Which was locked,

of course. But I looked in just the same

at my desk, some papers, and my chair.

This was the window on the other side

of the desk where I’d raise my eyes

and stare out when I sat at that desk.

This is not like downstairs, I thought.

This is something else.

And it was something to look in like that, unseen,

from the deck. To be there, inside, and not be there.

I don’t even think I can talk about it.

I brought my face close to the glass

and imagined myself inside,

sitting at the desk. Looking up

from my work now and again.

Thinking about some other place

and some other time.

The people I had loved then.

I stood there for a minute in the rain.

Considering myself to be the luckiest of men.

Even though a wave of grief passed through me.

Even though I felt violently ashamed

of the injury I’d done back then.

I bashed that beautiful window.

And stepped back in.

~ Raymond Carver

Near The Wall Of A House

Photo credit: Alvimann from morguefile.com

Near the wall of a house painted

to look like stone,

I saw visions of God.

A sleepless night that gives others a headache

gave me flowers

opening beautifully inside my brain.

And he who was lost like a dog

will be found like a human being

and brought back home again.

Love is not the last room: there are others

after it, the whole length of the corridor

that has no end.

~ Yehuda Amichai

___________________________________________

Love doesn't sit there like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all of the time, made new. ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

Near The Wall Of A House

Photo credit: Alvimann from morguefile.com

Near the wall of a house painted

to look like stone,

I saw visions of God.

A sleepless night that gives others a headache

gave me flowers

opening beautifully inside my brain.

And he who was lost like a dog

will be found like a human being

and brought back home again.

Love is not the last room: there are others

after it, the whole length of the corridor

that has no end.

~ Yehuda Amichai

___________________________________________

Love doesn't sit there like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all of the time, made new. ~ Ursula K. Le Guin