Spring!

Today, Sunday April 21,  leaves are sprouting from the trees, to my delight spoiling the clear outline of bare branches against the sky. All of a sudden tiny pale pink blossoms appear on trees. Daffodils, blue scylla's, the bright yellow stars of lesser celandine, decorate the garden. Not long now before nature will again be a feast of colour, all in time for the installation of the new king and queen. It will be wonderful to see the many shades of green and copper of the young leaves, so different from the rather uniform green in midsummer. It is just a week ago that the first frog arrived in my pond, and already it is filled with spawn. The fish have been disturbed and woken by the comings and antics of the frogs, and are swimming near the surface to catch some sun and warmth. I am glad many seem to have survived the long an very cold winter and that there are tens of tiny young fish as well. Although not very clear, the water of the pond is at least healthy. The magnolia stellata is turning its pure white flowers towards the sun and the light. But there is still danger, danger of night frost which will kill off the blossom as it did the flowers of an earlier flowering magnolia. But whatever happens, spring has definitely arrived. And who knows, perhaps the tulips may also decide to show their colours, competing with the only colour in the bulb fields so far, the bright yellow of the daffodils. 

Saturday April 20th

Although I first added a post about Sunday April 21st, I now like to mention a few events from the past week.

   The past week has been a busy and enjoyable week. Last Saturday (April 14^th) the first brown frog splashed around in my pond. Quite a lot later than last year. But everything is later. I did not envy the frog, quickly followed by a number of fellow frogs, as the water is still very cold. Is it the light that draws them out and urges them to mate, or the temperature?

  Caught in the act on my doormat, totally oblivious of their surroundings. They did not move, even when I tried to push them carefully with my foot towards the pond and the safety of the water away from the greedy herons.

I noticed them early in the morning, before setting off for Antwerp where we had our first choir rehearsal for our week in Southwell Minster in August. We have a provisionary programme, and concentrated on a few new – that is new to our repertoire – compositions. Not every singer could attend the rehearsal. One of pieces we read was Ascribe unto the Lord by S.S.Wesley. The notation is rather complicated, as voices split, are left out, and added again, so at one point one's voice is notated in the third bar line and then again on top or in the second bar. I was screeching away at terribly high notes in what I thought was the first alto line, growing quite desperate. Nobody said anything till we finished. It was quite a relief when they told me I had been singing the second soprano part! The last part, "The Lord has been Mindful..", we have sung several times and are familiar with, but we have never before sung the whole composition. It is beautiful, but I will have to attack my lines with a highlighter, as it seemed all rather confusing.

   I was back just in time to drop off a few fellow singers as we car-pooled, and to take a quick snack before setting off for The Hague again to attend a "trombone extravaganza", an amazing concert with 10 trombone players. Before the interval we listened to ancient music, a lute, harpsichord, baroque violin and an old – baroque trombone, the latter totally different from the modern instrument with that name. After the interval well-known music by later composers arranged for trombones was performed. It was funny to see the constant change of position of the musicians. Sometimes there would be five of them, one conducting, then 6 or 10 or whatever, changing position all the time and taking their music stands with them. An amusing form of musical chairs, although they had no chairs. The most impressive and really very moving part was at the beginning of the concert, when the trombone players were standing along the sides and at the back of the audience and the sound came from all around us, quite mesmerising.

It was a weekend filled with music, starting with our regular choir practice on Friday evening.

The week brought a variety of activities, appointments with doctors and internet providers, meetings with friends from far and near, and meetings of the board of the "Volksuniversiteit" of which I have been the secretary for the past  3,5 years. Not to mention a tea afternoon for the women in this street, a monthly event, fitness classes and another choir practice.

Haarlem revisited

One day – the last possible date – I took advantage of my "free rail day" and took the train to Haarlem. Haarlem is an interesting old town. I have often been there, for choir practice and for services and concerts in the Bavo, the main church in the market square, as well as several other churches on various occasions. Just before Easter we sang Stainer's Crucifixion in one of the catholic churches there. Haarlem also has at least two museums in historic buildings, with attractive and interesting exhibitions which I have often been to see. This time I wanted to do a tour of the well-hidden almshouses. I have seen most of the ones in Leiden, and in some other Dutch towns, but was not familiar with the ones in Haarlem. And I was amazed at the variety. They are well hidden in parts of the city where tourists and shoppers wouldn't normally go. Quiet parts as well. It is wonderful to find these hidden corners in a busy city. It is always a surprise when I open a door in a gate, ornamental or not, and then hit upon a beautiful court, surrounded by small houses, with pots of flowers on most doorsteps and a well tended communal garden. There is always a stone pump, and the absence of traffic noise is unexpected and so wonderful. Living in such a serene place in the middle of a busy city has always appealed to me. The almshouses were often purposely built for single women, and did not start out as beguinages, as most of those houses do in catholic areas.

 An interesting variety of water pumps in the different almshouses 

 

 

  

 I also discovered that Haarlem has many narrow streets, lanes and alleyways, lacking  front gardens. In many of those streets people have taken out a pavement stone or two directly in front of their house and planted climbers, roses, honeysuckle, wysteria, all sorts of plants. They have even put lines high across the street so that climbers form a canopy over the street. Many colourful pots with annuals en roses decorate the pavements.

No flowers yet, but wait and see

Another attraction are the shops. Haarlem still boasts many specialist shops, unique ones, not part of a chain. Cook shops, camera shops with lots of tantalizing lenses, the latest gadgets and very nice cameras , many restaurants and cafes. And not just around the big and impressive market square with the Bavo church taking pride of place, as well as some other old buildings.

 Top and below: two entrances to (former) almshouses

 Doors in Haarlem

Below: various almshouses

 

 

 

 Three women gossiping

St. Olofs Chapel

Talking about old buildings: The day after my Haarlem visit I attended a symposium in Amsterdam. This took place in the St. Olofs Chapel, a very old chapel on the Zeedijk in Amsterdam, at the top of what is now the red light district, but once was the dike along the former Zuiderzee. The chapel is very interesting, but no longer used as a church. It now is part of a big hotel, and is connected to it by a tunnel under the Zeedijk. It is sad that so many churches and chapels are no longer used for religious services. On the other hand, by using this chapel as a conference room it has been saved from ruin and destruction. Walking on large stone slabs which were originally used as gravestones, still engraved with the names of the people once buried there, I felt I was trespassing. The deceased and their relatives surely thought they would lie in peace under those gravestones forever, or till the end of time, the second coming they believed in. When the chapel was rebuilt and restored after various mishaps and a fire, the graves were opened. I suppose they removed the bones, which is usually done, and buried them elsewhere. That seems sacrilege, as I think it is also sacrilege that we exhibit Egyptian mummies in glass cases in museums. Mummies which were at one time so well preserved for eternity, their graves hidden in the depths of pyramids, almost impossible to discover, buried with all they thought they needed in the afterlife. When is a dead person no longer considered to be a dead person and can a body be relocated or displayed to curious eyes? Is there a time when a body is no longer a body but just an object? Somehow to me it seems totally wrong.

   The symposium was interesting, and I was glad to see the inside of the chapel which I had so often passed on my way to the station but never been able to enter. It is a place full of history, and I hope it will be preserved, even if not for the purpose it was originally built for.

Here are a few more links to the history of the chapel, and to some pictures

Sunday April 21st

This past week was full of interesting events. But I will write about them later as today is still fresh in my mind.

   A long service today in our church in The Hague, lasting for almost two hours. One of the reasons was a talk and slide show by a missionary couple. They have worked in Mozambique for over 20 years and were sent out and have been supported by our church. It is a difficult country they work in, and the work they do is invaluable. They are both artists who have given up their jobs to run an orphanage, but they also support widows of which there are too many, run bible study groups, and do lots of other things. Mozambique is rampaged by HIV and Aids, so there are orphans galore. This couple consider all 40-50 orphans to be their own children and part of their family, and not as living in an institution. Many don't leave till they marry. I felt humbled by them and by the work they do and the lives they live. However, it would have been better to have organised this presentation in the evening service which is informal, or during the family lunch in the church hall. During a Eucharist it seemed a bit out of place. Besides, we also celebrated the founding of this particular church building. It is strange for me to realise that I was a secondary school student and passing on my bike probably to or from school, when this church was opened by a member of the British Royal family, either Queen Elizabeth or her sister Margaret, I am not sure. I stopped and watched, never guessing that I would be a regular member and even a member of the choir one day. 

So many things were going on simultaneously in the service, not to mention lots of  announcements. All in all, a wonderful service, but a bit too long I think. Almost two hours might be fine in Africa, but not in Holland. And I could not take part in the family lunch because there wasn't enough time between the service and a concert.

Bibliotheca Thysiana

For in the afternoon I attended a concert in Leiden. Young musicians often can't afford a good instrument, so there is a charity, which lends excellent instruments, mainly string instruments, to young and promising musicians. This weekend that charity, the NMF (Dutch Musical Instruments Fund) had organised some 100 concerts in historic buildings all over Holland. Most buildings are not usually open to the public, and indeed well worth seeing. The concert was given by two young female violinists, in the Bibliotheca Thysiana in Leiden. It is an amazing building with a very interesting history. 

 The books are behind railings and only accessible to the librarian. He will find the required book(s) and put them on the large reading table opposite the stairs which open up in the middle of the library.

This isn't an entrance door, but a locked bookcase in which private family documents were kept. Or probably rare books. The family coat of arms is painted over the doors. It is the only ornament in an otherwise quite simple room.

Johannes Thysius (which in fact was Jan Thijs), a rich man, collected all the books in this library and stipulated in his will that after his death they should be kept together for the benefit of anyone who wanted to consult and study them. The library contains many rare books and is very important for the history of science in the 17^th century. All the disciplines are represented: music, the arts, history, geography, mathematics, you name it and it is there. It was very comprehensive at the time. Johannes Thysius died young, just 32 years old, and left money to have this house built for his library. The library itself is on the first floor, the ground floor has living quarters for a curator and his family. The library walls are lined with rows and rows of books bound in white vellum and brown leather. Nowadays the collection is integrated in the catalogue of Leyden University Library. The library Thysiana is no longer physically open to the public because of the absence of a caretaker or librarian, but books can be consulted in the University library. It is both awesome to see these rows of books, and at the same time frustrating not to be able to browse through them. But after the concert the curate, a professor of Book History, gave us an introduction to the house and the library and showed us some of its treasures, a pleasant and  unexpected bonus.

 A view down the staircase

 Awaiting their turn

One of the rare books

The concert itself, or rather a recital by two violin players, was very intimate. An audience of 14 or 16 is all the library can accommodate, which made it a very enjoyable experience indeed, almost a private performance. One of the musicians told us something about every piece they were going to perform and that added to our enjoyment. Instead of the one hour concert we were given a two hour event, including a tour of the library. 

We were shown a fat vellum bound manuscript and told that this library is in fact world famous, because this particular tome contains the largest collection of lute music known at that time. The owner copied any piece of lute music he heard or came across. A facsimile copy was produced several years ago so that it is now available to a larger group of interested musicians. 

Wetlands, reeds, bogs and churches

A choir-free Sunday. So I decided at last to pay a visit to family in the North. What attracted me most was the route through that part of the country. I had hoped for a clear and bright morning, but when I got up, the sport fields in front of my house were wrapped in a milky mist. Last time that happened I did not go on the trip I had planned and was sorry for it as the weather cleared in the course of the day. And so indeed it did today. A feeling of excitement, of discovery took hold of me. I love driving on a Sunday when the roads are free of trucks and heavy vehicles. The world seems quieter, almost serene, as the feverish rush of workday traffic is absent. Going through the flat parts of the west it grew gradually brighter, till the sun shone in all its glory. It was cold, very cold for this time of year. Spring seemed far away. The rows of trees on the horizon lining invisible roads were delicately drawn against the sky, their branches outlined as if by a fine pen, showing no signs of buds yet. There was a certain beauty in it. Also the light is so unusual when the trees are still bare, so clear and pure. There was no wind whatsoever, quite a relief and a miracle in this country after what seemed like weeks of icy cold winds from the east, making the temperature seem even lower than it already was. Driving through the polders, the flat land reclaimed from the former sea, I seemed to drive through a land completely at peace. The many modern windmills dwarfed the lines of trees on the horizon. They were enjoying their Sunday rest and did not move at all, not even slightly, something I had never witnessed before in this flat land which is so seldom without wind. They looked like lazy ballet dancers on strike, still holding their elegant pose. Crossing the water the lake was like a perfect mirror , a silver sliver reflecting electricity masts which even seemed beautiful in this pearly morning light.

Once I left the new land and entered the 'old' land I was filled with happiness. This is still the Dutch countryside as it used to be: small winding dikes which formerly followed the shore of the Zuiderzee and the banks of rivers, streams and canals, old farmhouses, huddling under their red tiled or thatched roofs, pitch black soil where the reeds had been harvested and which were waiting for new growth, bundles of reeds, cut in winter, shrubs struggling to survive in the moorland, old oak trees with knotted trunks, firmly rooted, wide open vistas, with farmhouses on the horizon. There were many birds and water fowls, a stork on a high nest, its beak in its own feathers hiding from the cold, some horses , a rare donkey, and many geese. Everything seemed eagerly to be waiting for spring, which this year has kept us waiting far too long.

I followed minor roads, small dikes with the occasional low lying reed and peat workers' cottages, now much sought after holiday homes. The only traffic were hikers and cyclists, well wrapped up. The bushels of reeds seemed made of burnished gold in the low light.

Leaving this fascinating land, a land which must know tales of witches and ghosts, a land of mists and treacherous bogs, mysterious hovels with mossy roofs, I meandered though small villages, in search of old churches and wooden bell towers. Unfortunately many churches are no longer used and seem to go to ruin. Some are now used for venues, parties and chamber music concerts, eg. the church at Peperga, the Peter Stuyvesant Church, others are just neglected.

Peperga

The Peter Stuyvesant church has a remarkable stone tower, which seems far too grand, high and wide for the small church it is attached to. Black crows were circling around the top of the tower, a perfect lookout point. Peter Stuyvesant, born in Peperga, was the son of a Dutch minster, worked for the West Indian Company and played an important role in what was New Amsterdam and now is New York. He died in New York in 1672.

 Vinkega

 

A church which is falling to ruins is the church at Vinkega, which was built in 1899, used as an artist studio after closure and is now empty and falling to pieces. However, there is hope as the path towards the church which is rather hidden in between two farmhouses, has been restored. It is now a nice lane bordered by old and gnarled trees. It took me some time to find it though. Two fat cows in a bordering field looked at me curiously while lazily lying in the rough grass.

 Noordwolde

Grave stone of the Bell ringer of Noordwolde

This part of "Friesland", West Stellingwerff, has many interesting villages. Some of the churches have wooden bell towers, standing apart from the brick churches. Sometimes the bell towers might be old, and the churches uninteresting and relatively new, dating only from the beginning of the 20^th century. Sometimes both church and bell tower date back to the 14^th century. I took lots of pictures. This is a country where one could spend  weeks exploring on foot the many small settlements and towns, history book in hand. Street names indicate that there must have been many monasteries and nunneries in this area, but they are hard to trace.

 Boyl

 "leaning" gravestones

At last I arrived at my destination, my relatives, the end of my trip, on my way there distracted by many picturesque houses and small holdings for sale. After a nice dinner and a happy evening I began my two hour drive back home through the darkening land, very satisfied with my day away and determined to go back to that area soon.

Elsloo, double bell tower