Working on this drawing of one of my favorite bookshops today, I find myself holding summer in my hands... this place of jaunty red umbrellas welcoming in season and the feel of good books between your fingers, cozy fireplaces to grab a chair by, scones and tea available to the meeting of friends inside…always…
And I find time… a fleeting thing, a mingling of past, present, then past again. Just for now — summer is but a photo, a pen and ink rendering.
I’m looking out upon the snowy grounds in front of my home, watching cardinals flitter crimson – so startling, joyous, brilliant against frosty white — in and out of the bare-branched pear tree standing sentinel to my windows. It really is a wonderment, that something so small, doing nothing more than nibbling at leaf remnants, can wing such assurance…such, gentle… into the moment. It’s one of those beautiful winter afternoons, when the sunset is just about to streak magenta across the sky, light snow is intermittently falling in ballgown-swishing circles and leafless trees sketch themselves on the air, raising arms to Heaven.
These birds and the time-elapsing scene before me make the memory of a warm-embracing song to tug at my thoughts, a misty- eyed Sunrise Sunset type of song that has always filled me with so many mind pictures of shelves lined with books, wing back chairs and sitting with loved ones by the fire and mullioned windows overlooking falling snow. The music and lyrics are casting fingers of wintry sky color on white, in deeper understanding of One LOVE, The Color of Snow... *
“I’ve grown so weary of things as they are…
I want fairy tale endings and cakes in a jar, and peaceful around me wherever I go and one Love that’s always the color of snow… the color of snow…
I’ve grown so tired of traveling fast. I want echoes and oak trees and time that will last. A world full of gentle… and lights that are low… the color of snow…
Who’ll be my gentle, my peaceful, my low… my quiet, my tender, the color of snow?
I don’t belong in a humdrumming world… I want leatherbound books with the pages all curled, a heart full of quiet and seedlings to grow…
and one Love that’s always the color of snow.”
I smile then. Because in a favorite bookstore, in a flash of red wing, in a beautiful song, I find… Him. Seedlings of dreams to grow. And the promise of Heaven while we’re still on earth…
“I will be your gentle, your peaceful, your low,” says the King of Kings, “your quiet, your tender… the Color of Snow…”
After the Sabbath, as the first light of the new week dawned, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to keep vigil at the tomb. Suddenly the earth reeled and rocked under their feet as God’s angel came down from heaven, came right up to where they were standing. He rolled back the stone and then sat on it. Shafts of lightning blazed from him. His garments shimmered snow-white.
~ Matthew 28:3 (the Message)
* I couldn’t find the composer, but you can listen to the beautiful song, Color of Snow, here: http://lyrics.lucywho.com/the-color-of-snow-lyrics-ed-ames.html
© Pam Depoyan
I’d love to know…
When you look at this Bookshop Cafe sketch, does it evoke any memories or thoughts in you?
Artwork: mine, under my copyright (please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar. )
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snow photos: fotosearch.com