Vaughan Williams - The Lark Ascending

Like sitting on a tree branch. Regret clinging on skin like cold sweat. Or even like sitting under a tree, on a big root, or even on the grass. It just brings me to Brideshead Revisited. I haven't seen that movie about Keats: Bright Star. But the soaring. The soaring could be taken as a sign of hope? It doesn't have the complex/richness (?) of waltzes. Maybe because it's called pastoral music? I think the lark is called Skylark. More precisely, Eurasian Skylark, a British songbird, apparently. It probably is the same bird in Shirley Jackson's powerful opening paragraph for Haunting of Hill House,

 ".. even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream." 

Now, back under the tree. Looking back at the times again. Always looking back at the times. Now, this piece re-entered my life together with Anne of Green Gables. How matching. Always wanted a hat like Anne. The flat top one. I saw an oil painting at that first exhibition. The color I remembered the most was the deep sepia. Even the frame had been touched by the inavoidable hand of time. Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening. But I'm not moving forward. Just here. Lingering by.