the table is ready

your table is ready

A cold clear day in which I’m preparing to welcome guests for a New Year’s feast of chicken tagine, roasted vegetables, beet and orange salad, and Liz’s Christmas pudding, steamed in beer. The guests are all bringing contributions (oysters from a cold beach have been promised) too so we will not be hungry. There are sparklers and Cava for midnight. The table is ready for the 7 of us and in a few minutes I’m going for the last swim of 2017. Not in the lake, though I’m sure some people participate in that ritual. I’ll do my slow kilometer in the local pool, thinking of the year, its highs and lows.

A friend sent a poem this morning, W.S. Merwin’s “To the New Year”. Its final stanza speaks to me so clearly of the old year and the new year.

so this is the sound of you
here and now whether or not
anyone hears it this is
where we have come with our age
our knowledge such as it is
and our hopes such as they are
invisible before us
untouched and still possible

10 thoughts on “the table is ready”

  1. Happy (Almost) New Year, friend! Your table is gorgeous. Have a lovely evening (and swim) and we’ll chat soon. Hugs to you and John. Hibernating over here…xoxo Andrea

  2. Your feast looks and sounds beautiful and delicious, Theresa – and I can nearly smell it, so far away, here in the bitter frozen wasteland. A happy, healthy, creative 2018 to you and John and all your gang.

  3. Our house smells wonderful! The wine will be snow-chilled, the singing loud and maybe a little off-key, but with luck this household will see a new year come to the coast, under a wolf moon. Love to you in Toronto, Beth.

      1. How could that be indeed. I too lived in London for a few years, but in my 30’s, and it seems like a couple of lifetimes ago. My eldest was born there and now is 30 with a 5 year old.

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