Spring Approacheth

The hold of winter is beginning to release, with one, maybe two snowy blasts yet to come.  We know that these final attempts of Father Winter to hold us in thrall will be short-lived, because all around us the spidery fingers of Spring are increasingly visible.

In late February it was the bird songs which suddenly proliferated, then the angle of the sun began to change, and with the arrival of so-called "daylight savings" morning began later but the afternoons  began to linger almost to dinner time - another hopeful sign.

We are still trying to explain to ourselves why this winter has been so trying.  Snow falls were not too burdensome, although ice underneath remained a constant threat (something to do with my, I expect).  We had some very cold spells which, when combined with wind, made being outdoors a legitimate threat, and that combined with gray day after gray day, was dispiriting.

Yet...and yet, the signs of Spring began to multiply:  Canada geese honking away   low in the afternoon sky, the snow receding between the house and the lake, and the day before yesterday, three snowy egrets flying right down the shore to the part of the lake where they nest.

There is an aerator on the other side of the lake which makes it possible for aquatic birds to remain optimistic no matter what else might be going on around them, but it is the egrets which lifted our hearts and minds...until the next palpable symbol of Spring is knitted into our seasonal pattern.

Paul Scofield

The news of the death of the English actor Paul Scofield came at breakfast.  He was one of the"next"  generation of great actors which arrived immediately after  Laurence Olivier,  John Gielgud, Edith Evans, Peggy Ashcroft, Emlyn Williams, and Alec Guinness among others.

His performance in the film "A Man For All Seasons," was riveting, but I have a clearer memory of a "Volpone,"directed by Peter Hall at the Royal National Theatre in 1972,  with Scofield in the title role, Ben Kingsley as Mosca, and John Gielgud as Sir Politic.

Gielgud "dried" during the performance, and either the prompt thrown or received was delayed -  we caught our collective breath, then things were righted, and off we went.

Scofield's performance might have overwhelmed everything on stage, but it did not.  The greatness of his performance was that it was not grandiose, scenery chewing, showy - you get the drift.  But you could not take your eyes off him (a characteristic which Ian McKellen carries on).

After the play, my American friend and I sat for some moments in silence, trying to process all that we had seen that evening.  Eventually I turned to her and said, "This is one of those nights when one understands the link between theatre and religion, as it was in ancient times."  She nodded, and we left in that companionable silence which allowed what we had seen to settle in memory.

Where it remains to this day.  Those who saw him on the screen or in a theatre will continue to find him very hard to forget, and that is a sufficient legacy.