December 29, 2006
Now New Year is nearer than Christmas, and we are at the “Four calling birds” of the twelve days. . . the morning at Sanctuary found no birds calling, just one owl moving out of the low branches of the evergreens in the forest; a mist was falling, and Alphie seemed to lack energy to explore. I stay to the paths because I think that under the silent grasses there are whole communities of small things that I could decimate in a foot fall.
This Christmas I can’t remember much of the music at all. I think that the familiar carols have been so wrung out, minced, diced, trimmed and manipulated in hopes of something new sounding forth that the brain pushes the mute button without voluntary thought. Even the boys choir in the traditional English Lessons and Carols began to sound a bit shrill as they sang ever higher descants over newly composed materials that combined atonality with Latin texts and complex harmonies. The best musical experience came at the evening service with Charles playing and the congregation singing the familiar songs with great delight. When our family gathers tomorrow, we will sing the carols together and bring them home to the heart again.
Yesterday’s blood tests showed that at last all the indicators are in the normal range. I knew before I went that this was the case because I felt truly well. I shall enjoy the next twelve days greatly! In the Foreword to the new Annie Leibovitz book, “A Photographer’s Life” (given to Charles for Christmas) she speaks of the death of her friend Susan Sontag. Ms. Sontag was diagnosed with MDS in March of 2004, and after an attempted bone marrow transplant failed, died in November of the same year. Vidaza, the chemotherapy with which I am treated, became available in January of 2005.