[Dialogue] [Oe List ...] Ann Harrison Avery

[Diann McCabe]

Thank you so much, Desmond, for sharing Ann's poem--it took me to a new
place. I remember Ann who I knew only a little but remember her grace.
Diann McCabe

On Fri, Oct 7, 2022 at 1:45 PM Isobel and Jim via OE <
oe at lists.wedgeblade.net> wrote:

> Dear Desmond,
> Jim and I  send our sincerest condolences to you in the loss of your
> beloved Ann.
> A beautiful tribute she has left in her Poem.
> May you find comfort in your memories and through the support and love of
> family and friends.
> With love,
> Isobel Bishop
>
>
> Isobel Bishop
> Mob.  0412 129 425
>
> On 7 Oct 2022, at 10:25 pm, PAUL SCHRIJNEN via OE <oe at lists.wedgeblade.net>
> wrote:
>
> 
> Desmond Avery writes:
>
> *Ann Harrison Avery, 16 December 1940 -  25 September 2022*
> Full of gratitude for Ann’s life, we sang ‘For all the the saints’ at her
> funeral in our local church in rural England the day before yesterday. The
> church was full, and everybody knew the tune.  In his eulogy Paul Schrijnen
> read this poem Ann had written one previous October:
>
> *Autumn Joy*
>
>
> * I like to shuffle through the leaves*
>
> *yellow and brown*
>
>
> *     Beauty all over the ground. *
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> *I could just keep on looking down. But then I look up at the branches
> Where the last leaves linger just a few days longer still some green with
> yellow and gold each tree different black trunk's shape showing through as
> the tree undresses gradually. Soon it will stand, stark naked against the
> sky. *
>
>
>
>
>
>
> *I remember autumns in other times and other places. - Red maples in a
> Toronto cemetery, - Virginia creeper in Geneva as scarlet as in Wellingore
> - Red sumac in Chattanooga on a red-clay lot as it is now on our green
> garden - A golden forest in a park south of Paris. *
>
>
>
>
>
> *My mother's birthday is in October - is that why I love autumn? Or is it,
> that I love the fact, that the colours are always present in the leaf
> Hidden beneath the chlorophyll, And the idea that the colours of our lives
> are always within us, waiting to blaze forth as the greenness of youth
> recedes?*
>
>
> The colours are doing just that here now.
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