I left my desk a few minutes ago and saw this pot of forsythia lit up by the sunlight flooding into the kitchen.

P1090555The camera kept warning, Backlight, backlight, as though that was something you wouldn’t want. We’ve waited a long time for this sunlight and I’m not going to filter it out now.

Anyway, there was such clarity in the colours — the yellow forsythia, the deep blue glass pot. (The brown clay tiles on the kitchen counter…) And I wanted such clarity. All morning I’ve been struggling with some writing, trying to write about Pascal’s triangle (I do understand this: it’s a triangular representation of binomial coefficients) and how (I think) it can also be used as a model for talking about heredity. I’m trying to work backwards on a particular element of genetics, tracing how a certain member of my family has been gifted with an ability for which there doesn’t seem to be a precedent. So I look at these diagrams and their attendant theorems and feel lost at sea somehow. But I do mean to figure it out.

In the meantime, spring is everywhere. Earlier this morning I went out to peek at the garden and realized I was hearing the first varied thrush song of the season. I thought of Don McKay, much easier for my brain to understand than the binomial theorem, and his beautiful poem, “Song for the Song of the Varied Thrush”:

                       …a close

vibrato waking up the pause

which follows, then

once more on a lower or a higher pitch…

Before I began voice lessons 6 years ago, I wouldn’t have understood the slight shifts in pitch, or vibrato, so maybe there’s hope.