March 2

March, the month of Spring, of new hopes. The days have been lengthening, the birds are singing early in the morning, bulbs tentatively pop their spiky leaves through the topsoil, ready to close up and withdraw as soon as the weather turns nasty again. The helleborus has been in bloom for several weeks now. Amazingly they drop their heads and look wilted and dead when the temperature drops below zero again. But as soon as the weather picks up, they raise their heads and their petals which seem so delicate are totally undamaged. I have to prune my roses and ramblers before they bud, and prepare the garden for spring, as it is still waiting to be made ready for winter. At least that means it has been well protected throughout the very cold periods which we have had.

Although I haven't posted much since mid-January, it doesn't mean nothing has happened. We have enjoyed a wonderful spell of frost. Canals and lakes were frozen over and the winter scenes with people skating on the ice of lakes and canals, the small makeshift stalls selling piping hot pea soup, chocolate milk and coffee, reminded me of paintings from the Golden Age, the only difference being that people nowadays are dressed differently. At that time there was no special clothing for outdoor sports. Women would skate in nice, wide long skirts, very elegant indeed. Nowadays our wardrobes carry a different outfit for each sport. There was also ice sailing. With enough wind those sailing- boats-on-skates can fly across the ice at a very fast speed, an amazing thing to see.

Below: The frozen Gouwzee at Monnickendam

I had friends to stay, music to sing, evensongs to take part in or to attend. But the fact is that every year is just a repeat with variations of the previous year. It is like a musical composition: each variation, each year seems similar to the previous one, but nevertheless surprises us in places. The dissonants are always different, always unexpected, and never in the same place. They stand out, may disturb a peaceful harmony. It may be illness of people dear to us, a shocking and most unexpected death, reminding us of our own vulnerability. It may be an assault or theft of one's dear possessions, which happened to me. They are things which happen to each and every  one of us, even if we think we are immune. But they shock us out of our lethargy or false feelings of safety and comfort, in short out of our comfort zone.

The dark and cold days of winter are a good time to catch up with things we do not do in summer, when we, or at least I, spend as much time as possible outdoors. I have been sorting through pictures, composing travelogues, gone through cupboards and cleared out stuff I no longer needed or wanted. There is still far too much stuff left to clutter up the house, alas.

After Breda, I did go out and explore Zwolle one day, on my free travel pass. I know Zwolle, but old city centres always have surprising shops. They spring up and may disappear again, but they are usually special and specialist shops. I happened on a shop, the "Hanze Huis", which sold products from cities which at one time belonged to the Hanseatic League, so products from Russia, Germany etc. Liqueurs, chocolates, teas and coffees, in the most amazing packaging, such as decorated tins and fake Fabergé eggs. The shop assistants were every bit as colourful as the packaging of their products.  Discovering only that shop was well worth the trip, although we did other things as well. There is a new railway connection between Lelystad and Zwolle, which I had never been on. However, instead of seeing the landscape and trying to figure out where exactly we were, I couldn't see a thing because of the persistent haze which bordered on fog. Bare branches against the mist may be decorative and artistic, it did not give me a clue as to the position of the tracks and where we were crossing from the new polders into the old land – which was through a new tunnel. I did not even notice going through it! So I will have to repeat the exercise on a sunny day, travelling on beyond Zwolle for a change.

Below: Some oictures of Zwolle

The only city gate which still exists, the "Sassenpoort", taken from a difficult angle.

Yesterday (Saturday) I went to Amsterdam in the late afternoon, to the Choral Evensong in the church of St. Nicholas opposite the railway station, which is celebrated every Saturday at 17.  It is a very imposing church, and in spite of being in a busy city, inside the noise of trams and traffic and people is shut out. The choir is very well-trained and sitting there in that beautiful, spacious church a feeling of peace and joy filled me. I knew some of the music, had sang it myself, but listening is another matter. It is amazing that this beautiful and mysterious service is attended so well on a Saturday afternoon, in a part of Amsterdam with the red light district and coffee shops on its doorstep. To me it seemed that angels had descended, just for the 45 minutes the service took, and with their singing filled me with an inner calm. The song of Mary and the song of Simeon, age old poetic texts which have lost nothing of their beauty and meaning.

Here is what the choir sang:

          Introit:          Purcell, Thou knowest Lord

         Office Hymn: Audi benigne conditor

         Psalm:          6

         Responses:    Ebdon

         Canticles:      Batten, 1^st Verse Service (Magnificat & Nunc Dimittis)

         Anthem:       Attwood, Enter not into judgement        

Here is Purcell, sung by the choir of King's College Cambridge