In a country where they turn back time
I am a collector of verbal images. I become weak-kneed when I hear or read a well-turned phrase that is used to describe something - without actually telling you what it's describing. The phrase is so perfect you know exactly what it's describing, though the object is never stated explicitly. One such phrase, or collection of phrases, comes from one of my all-time favorite songs The Year of the Cat by Al Stewart. Case in point:
On a morning from a Bogart movie
In a country where they turn back time
You go strolling through the crowd like
Peter Lorre contemplating a crime.
What a perfect set of phrases. The scene is set. You know exactly what he's describing, and where, you can see her in your mind's eye. Perfect! When I write poems, which I used to do prolifically but now do only on occasion, I strive to do exactly as Al Stewart has in this song. I am sometimes successful, and relish those moments of brilliance; sadly, they are few and far between. Perhaps one day I will share some of those pieces here. Despite the fact that I write less often, I still mentally collect and create these verbal images. This time of year overwhelms me as I attempt to describe the splendor of autumn as it unfolds around me.
I grew up in a place where there was no autumn. I don't ever remember leaves falling from trees, waiting to be raked and piled, those piles waiting to be jumped in by children. Is my memory faulty or does the central coast of California really not have autumn? Like everyone in the world, I had seen photos of the glorious colors of New England. I think I grew up believing that was the only place in the country where trees changed colors. I now know better. I live in a place that produces colors rivaling New England. That color change, from the first few red leaves on the maples through the falling of the last golden leaf, is a marvel to behold, and I am fortunate to live right in the midst of it. But I digress.
In a country where they turn back time - what a perfect phrase. I have always thought this line referred to daylight saving time. With that in mind, the phrase is perfect in that it could mean the US, Canada, Britain, or any of 70 countries that observe DST. As an American, I automatically assumed it meant the US, and couldn't help but appreciate how perfectly that phrase brought up an image of the US. I recently read the actual lyrics to the song and realize it says "In a country where they turned back time", which gives the line an entirely different meaning, especially when taken in the context of the subsequent lines that describe a scene reminiscent of an open market in a warm, tourist-filled tropical region. Nevertheless, I still love the line "In a country where they turn back time" as a description of the US....which brings me to the real theme of today's post. It's 6:14 AM - and it's dark outside. Just a few weeks ago, it was light out at this time. I would wake to sunlight streaming through the window. Now, the alarm goes off and I have to stare at the clock to convince myself that it really is 4:50 AM and not the middle of the night. Rather than getting out of bed to a sun rising over the horizon in the east, I usually see the moon above the horizon in the west, still an hour or so from setting. It's depressing. I find myself wanting to go back to bed after my husband leaves for work at 6 AM. When the sun is up, I am energized. I am ready to hit the driving range or gym before work; I feel like being active; going back to bed is the last thing on my mind. The month before we turn back time is one of the toughest of the year. It grows darker every morning; it gets dark earlier every night; it is obvious that winter is just a few weeks away. It's depressing. The good news is, in less than 30 days we will be turning back time, and it will be light at 5 AM - for a while. That last few weeks of early morning daylight serve to fill up the reserves, making it easier to endure the approaching ever-shortening days of winter. So here I sit, in the pre-dawn darkness at 6:22 AM, trying to convince myself to go to the gym or driving range, struggling against the wool-blanket grayness of this "gawdawful" hour, trying not to think about the warm bed calling to me from my bedroom, anxiously awaiting the start of PST at 2 AM on Halloween morning. It can't come soon enough. In a country where they turn back time....
