All posts tagged: Elizabeth Harrower

magnolia stellata | edge of evening

draft folder

September 2016 The idea is that by right living I might come to right feeling. Therefore: run three times a week even in the freezing cold, go to sleep by 10PM, write 500 words of prose a day six days a week, eat well, listen when the children are speaking, have sex with husband, etc.Mothers by Rachel Zucker November 2016 Hi. I feel shy. I just forgot my wordpress password, moments after my fingers hesitated over typing edgeofevening. I do think of you. Often actually, especially when I’m cooking & so writing anything down is especially inconvenient. I compose whole blog posts in my head. An alternative way of looking at this is that often, when I’m cooking, I talk to myself in blog posts. Anyway. Here we are: Thursday night & it’s already getting late & everything I wanted to say has vanished. This morning there was a frost & the rose leaves were edged in white, the last buds still closed. Today, Pops & I have written the invitations to his fourth birthday party. Big(ger) children have worked hard …

In Certain Circles by Elizabeth Harrower | edge of evening

In Certain Circles

Whether the expressions so recently shown on her face belonged to the luminous quality of her eyes, or to the shape of her mouth, or to her nature, neither Zoe nor her mother yet knew: she was only seventeen. Zoe had awakened in this square stone house on the north side of Sydney Harbour, and learned soon afterwards from her family and their friends that she was remarkable. There was a big garden. There were people of her own size for company. At the end of the short street of old houses in long-established gardens was a white curved beach with rocks, rock pools, very small waves, shells, pebbles, fine sand. She swam before she walked. In Certain Circles by Elizabeth Harrower Sometimes you read a book which contains answers to questions that you haven’t yet fully articulated. I’ve just been sitting on a bench in the garden, beneath the magnolia, with a riotous racket of birdsong going on all around me. I went out there to leaf through In Certain Circles, to remember why I loved it so. …

Hellebore | edge of evening

The turn

We had that first weekend when the weather finally turns, the earth creaking on its axis, and instantaneously the possibility of spring fills the air. Old friends came to stay and, though it normally rains here whenever anyone visits, this time the sun shone and it was, most definitely, spring. B & the children visited the farm shop to buy lamb and were also invited to admire the newborn lambs bothering their unfazed mothers in the field. T counted the births listed on the whiteboard — quads, triplets, twins and singletons: 112 lambs born in the past ten days. This morning I’m restless, the weekend worn off. The four hours without children shrinking and expanding as I fidget with the different ways I could fill them. The Year 6 children from school are cycling along the road outside my window, taking their cycling proficiency. I tried to explain to a French neighbour who came over for coffee yesterday what they’re doing out there. It sounded slightly crazy as our road is a dead end & there is …