Gouda Revisited

I have not posted anything for some time. Probably because there is nothing to tell. Yes, Evensongs, choir practices and all the other usual musical happenings go on: Preparing for the many special services for Good Friday, Easter, Evensong and the Sunday after Easter when the morning service will be followed by a farewell lunch for our chaplain. I am also singing a Passion in Antwerp, Stainer's Crucifixion, and so there are extra rehearsals. But singing has always been a joy for me. After Easter the rehearsals will begin for our short choir tour to Malta and Gozo in May, something I am definitely looking forward to. I have never been to Malta, and at that time of year it should be lovely and warm.

Something joyful too is that Spring has arrived out of the blue, or rather out of the grey days which are common here. We have already had two weeks of brilliant sunshine, with no wind and bright blue skies. I even enjoyed the first al fresco meals of this year, only possible in my sheltered backyard on the south side of the house and out of the wind. It cools down quickly once the sun sets, and the trees are still very bare, although buds are appearing on seemingly dead branches.

I have availed myself of the muscle power of a friend from Canada who has very obligingly uprooted and chopped down a few of my shrubs and trees. Some had been planted in 1983, when the garden was made, and some even earlier, in 1965 when the house was built. It is a pity to get rid of trees, but in a small patio garden, there is no choice. Like the Triffids, they were encroaching on my territory and leaving me little space to sit out and even less to plant some bright flowers. So now the garden at the back looks extremely bare, but also spacious, as far as a pocket sized backyard in an urban area can look "spacious". After numerous trips to the local dump (bless my new car which has plenty of space and can easily be turned into a small van) and many extra roller bins full of compostable matter, I am now facing the nicer part: making a planting scheme, and choosing plants for the newly created borders. The paving stones look disgustingly dirty, so there is still a lot of work to be done.

Wysteria

Besides, when I was away in Canada innocently enjoying a trip through the Rockies and the prairies, my neighbours invaded my garden and ruined my beautiful, old wysteria, by "pruning" it very rudely and inexpertly on my side of the fence!  When I saw it, it reduced me to tears. I had tended that wysteria and it always produces a lilac-blue sea of fragrant, beautiful flowers in spring. In the process they also cut down the carefully trailed rose New Dawn, which goes so well with the wysteria. The thick, main stem and the main branches of the wysteria have died, so I will have to take it out and replace it. Would barbed wire around it do? I don't know what got into them. At least it proves that anyone can easily access my back garden, although I thought I was well protected! Not so, apparently.

As it was when the rose was in bloom. Everything over the garden seat has gone now.

One afternoon my friend and I went to Gouda to see the amazing exhibition of the life size cartoons of the stained glass windows of the Church Of St. John. They are very detailed, seemingly more detailed that the windows themselves, although they are just black and white pencil drawings. They are extremely well preserved, and show that the world famous brothers Crabeth, were very skilled artists indeed! The exhibition closes just after Easter, which is a pity because it is so unique. The church is just opposite the museum, so we combined a visit to the museum with a visit to the church to have another look again at the fantastic multicoloured windows. We were surprised to find ourselves in a Cantata service. 

The Cantata was "Die Elenden sollen essen", by J.S.Bach, BWV 75. The orchestra consisted of pupils and former pupils of a Dutch Reformed college. The performing organist was the highly qualified organist of the St. John, there were some excellent soloists (professionals, I guess) and the orchestra was semi-professional. It was a moving experience: the church late in the afternoon, bathing in mysterious light because of the windows, music filling the high vaults. There were lots of young families with babies in prams and strollers and small children just walking or skipping around. But they were well behaved, dancing to the music around the choir, enjoying the space and the sound. One little girl – maybe 2,5 years old – was dancing on tiptoe, here arms spread wide as angel wings, her whole body one with the music, enjoying the trumpet which had several solos, while circling the choir again and again, like an exotic butterfly in her bright red jumper and grey woollen tights, her straight fair hair golden. A picture of innocence and joy. She felt so happy, was so radiant, felt so safe. The innocence of that child would move anyone seeing her. When do we lose it, that innocence, that feeling of security? There was an overall atmosphere of security, of the certainty of faith, of being protected by some power beyond us, of being enveloped by love.

One of the windows depicting the siege of Leyden in the 80-year war with Spain, and William of Orange