LEAVES AGAINST THE BLUE OF THE SKY

 

Ute Kaboolian

 

    One day in June of 1986 I looked up and saw nothing out of the ordinary, just an umbrella of leaves against the bright blue sky. Yet strangely inspired, I wrote my poem ‘On a Moment’s Loan’, which celebrates nature and features the sky.

 

     The next day was overcast as I sat on my little wooden deck, which at either end is framed by the outer branches of two large pine trees. Between them, overshadowing the deck is an umbrella of tiny leaves of a Japanese maple, which at that moment was trembling in the wind. I looked up, and through the lace-work of leaves saw the brightest patch of blue I had ever seen in any sky. What is that? I wondered. I kept looking, and after a time saw smaller smudges of the same strong blue as if flung by a giant paintbrush against an otherwise gray sky. Why, it’s only the sky, you dummy, I answered my own question as I went back into the kitchen.

     My daughter walked in, a few minutes later, and I told her about the silly thing I had experienced and she said, “I looked out of my window” -- she lives a few blocks away on the top floor of a five story apartment building with an a panoramic view of our picturesque town  – “and I saw nothing but gray.” 

<>     “Yeah, but look,” I said, “You can still see some of that strong blue through the kitchen door window.”  This door leads to the deck.  She saw it.  
    
I then told her how I had made reference to the sky in my poetry the day before and she smiled.  She is used to my making these associations.

 

          The following day, the third day, brought the culmination of this experience, which not only impresses me but I suppose might impress anyone with a similar bend of mind:  It was another fine day to sit outside.  I had started A.S. Byatt’s ‘Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye – Five Fairy Stories’, the day before, and had my morning coffee out on the deck while starting on the third tale, “The Story of the Eldest Princess.”  One must read the story for oneself, and then it becomes clear that stories and life stories are certainly intertwined if one does pay attention.  How else was it possible, I thought, that I have had my attention on the bright-blue sky for the previous two days and now on the third am presenting myself with a story, which deals almost entirely with the color of the sky, which is described for us in detail at each princess’s birth and then subtly changes from blue to green?  For in the story I was reading now the eldest of three princesses goes out on a quest to restore the bright-blue sky they have lost. That is nothing to say against the mostly green sky they have at this moment, which has its own beauty. But it’s all in the telling of the tale, which must be read to realize how some writings, like those of A.S. Byatt, can create a magic all their own for the attentive and appreciative reader.