To my left the cows scattered about the field did their best to ignore me. To the right, across the ditch, the sheep paid close attention and regarded me with suspicion (it’s what they do). Behind me, the sun was far below the horizon, only the faintest glimmer of the lights from a far-off cottage marked the outer limit of what could be seen through the dark. The breeze blew gently towards me, the soft rain washing away the chill of the night, and the heavily burdened clouds moved slowly towards the rising light.
I listened to the rain fall faintly on the leaves of the trees and strained to make out the slow rhythmic beat of the swan’s great wings as it approached out of the dark. A quick shuffle to my left to get into its line of flight, then it flew directly over my head. I turned and watched it fade back into the dark.
As I walked on, I pondered its age and why it was alone – young and adventurous, or, old and determined, certain of its course? The last time I had been so close to a swan in flight I ended up on the kitchen floor drawing a great Arc, which then translated into a chair, of sorts. It seemed like a long time had passed. It was only a year of two ago, a moment in the lifespan of a swan, or the average person.
A swan can live for 30 years, its appearance changing little over the course of its life. What of the chair, if it aged organically, continued to grow, develop, and ultimately deteriorate over a similar period? No doubt it would develop patina, but that is only superficial – perhaps there would be changes to its physical appearance. Would it be recognisable, identifiable as the chair that was once fresh from the workbench?
I thought about the faces I have known and parted from in my youth and wondered how they would have changed and grown. After more than 30 years of absence, I met again some of those faces, and was surprised at how little they had changed – I recognised them instantly; their smiles unaltered, perhaps a little wider, and their eyes were brighter than ever.
So, what of the chair? Perhaps it would look something like this:
Perspective – Greenwood Hazel and Willow Armchair – Jason Robards
It has grown into a more relaxed, comfortable, softer, and more inviting version of itself. I know. I have spent more than a few hours in its company. And, as I sat back into it, I thought of the swan and its great arching journey in life – perhaps it’s all a big adventure, depending on where you stand.
Echoes – Greenwood Ash Armchair