Friday, March 05, 2010

Comfort reading


Brother Cadfael's Penance

"Brother Cadfael was standing in the middle of his walled herb-garden, looking pensively about him at the autumnal visage of his pleasance, where all things grew gaunt, wiry and sombre. Most of the leaves were fallen, the stems dark and clenched like fleshless fingers holding fast to the remnant of the summer, all the fragrances gathered into one scent of age and decline, still sweet, but with the damp, rotting sweetness of harvest over and decay setting in. It was not yet very cold, the mild melancholy of November still had lingering gold in it, in falling leaves and slanting amber light. All the apples were in the loft, all the corn milled, the hay long stacked, the sheep turned into the stubble fields. A time to pause, to look round, to make sure nothing had been neglected, no fence unrepaired, against the winter.

He had never been quite so acutely aware of the particular quality and function of November, its ripeness and its hushed sadness. The year proceeds not in a straight line through the seasons, but in a circle that brings the world and man back to the dimness and mystery in which both began, and out of which a new seed-time and a new generation are about to begin. Old men, thought Cadfael, believe in that new beginning, but experience only the ending. It may be that God is reminding me that I am approaching my November. Well, why regret it? November has beauty, has seen the harvest into the barns, even laid by next year's seed. No need to fret about not being allowed to stay and sow it, someone else will do that. So go contentedly into the earth with the moist, gentle, skeletal leaves, worn to cobweb fragility, like the skins of very old men, that bruise and stain at the mere brushing of the breeze, and flower into brown blotches as the leaves into rotting gold. The colours of late autumn are the colours of the sunset: the farewell of the year and the farewell of the day. And of the life of man? Well, if it ends in a flourish of gold, that is no bad ending."


If you have not read any of the Brother Cadfael mysteries, I highly recommend you start from the beginning (The Holy Thief) and read through the series. You'll want all the historical and character background before you fall into this gem.


***Added later: I stand corrected: Book One of the Cadfael series is A Morbid Taste for Bones.***

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Wonderful quote, Mama! I'm glad you've been re-reading those. Except -- I thought that One Corpse Too Many was the first in the series?

love,
M

A Circle of Quiet said...

Actually, dear Madelaine, we are both wrong...A Morbid Taste for Bones is book one.

See you SOOOOOON.

Love,
Mama