In June 2013, the EBSNS launched Echoes of Elizabeth Bishop: The Elizabeth
Bishop Centenary (2011) Writing Competition. The editors have asked a some
of our readers to provide a comment, a personal response, to the collection. We
will post them over the next few weeks. We hope these readers’ responses will tempt
you to buy a copy for your own library. It also makes a wonderful Christmas
gift!
You find out more about Echoes on
the EBSNS website:
********************
Response from Sybil Flemming
There are echoes in the Village.
There are echoes from across the Bay; my roots clinging to
the opposite shore, and perched on the mountain on the south side of the
Valley. For years I was a “come from away,” tagged by those who were here
first, but I have been able to stay and can almost say, “O, you’re from away.”
There are echoes in the Village; the church stands tall
and proud, guarding the busy corner and the cozy house where Elizabeth lived and felt at home. Nearby the assurance
of the fire hall, the busy gas bar, the former corner store where folks gathered
to buy milk and bread and eggs. Now I can buy treasures and hear their echoes.
There are echoes in the Village; the aboiteau closes, its
clamour unheard as it works to keep the muddy tides out of the peaceful river.
The children splash in the Rock Hole near the iron bridge; the sun is hot,
there is no school, no bell today.
There are echoes in the Village; what does the artist on
her stool see today? I see the eagle soaring over the hay field next door, the
crows perching in my aging maples, the young pheasants scrambling for cover
under my pines, and the steady rhythms in my community.
There are echoes in the Village; a new generation of elms
stretching upward replacing the lofty trees, “We’re coming back!” The power of
nature echoes, “Respect me forever.”
There are echoes in the Village; I hear the voices of
neighbors. “How’s your garden?” “Did you see Logan’s barn lately?” “Carl’s got a lot of
cattle there.” Shared words of wisdom on growing, pruning, fixing, fishing and
caring.
There are echoes in the school house; music and math,
science and sports. This echo secretly whispers to me about helping young minds
to grow, challenging them to try.
There are echoes in my hallway; footsteps from the past
reminding me of others who lived here before me: the millionaire, the Cat lady,
and nameless others laid here for visitation. I wonder what will be said of me
when I am gone.
There are echoes in my garden; echoes of peace and
tranquility; a place of searching and contemplating; the questions become more
clear, but the answers remain elusive.
There are echoes in my mind; family taken, too young, too
soon, too much suffering. But the past takes on a new face as cousins meet and
laugh, tales of adventure and folly unroll. Ah, yes, those stories will live
on, maybe even stretch and grow as we grow old.
There are echoes against loneliness; the family sounds the
make a house a home. Sounds of kids, and Christmases, barbecues and music;
Sophie’s excited barking announcing that guests have come; sounds of children’s
laughter, sobs and fears. The echoes will continue, sometimes happy, sometimes
nagging, but one thought will permeate, now I am home.
The book is awesome, a lot of vignettes from such a diverse
group. Hope these reflections fill the niche you want. The Village has changed
since EB was here; but I think the essence is the same.
******
Sybil Flemming grew up in Falmouth,
Nova Scotia, just at the beginning of the Annapolis Valley. She attended Acadia University
after high school, and at age 55 received an MEd from Mount Saint Vincent University. Her interests
are as diverse as the subjects she teaches at West Colchester
Consolidated School.
Often found in her gardens, or on an organ bench, or gazing at the stars, she is just
as happy doing an assortment of hand crafts or reading a book, especially on a
beach.
Photograph by Laurie Gunn
Posts
