Yellow Irises (April 10, 2025)

Young Robbie recalls that on his fifth birthday … “I received a lithesome steel fishing rod of my own. In my hands, it felt robust yet unexpectedly precise. I hastened to test it on the sunfish under the dock. Though nothing I caught that day found its way to the table, I received a different kind of reward. My new trophy was enameled in brilliant yellow. Until then the only metal rods I had seen were prosaic black. Granny observed that this one perfectly matched the water irises along the shore. Yellow irises were less common in Ontario then than now, so Granny prized them especially. They reminded her of others near her childhood village in England. Flourishing beds had festooned a chalk stream where her father often fished. That link explained my affection for a gift I kept with me for many years. And the nesting of one Russian-doll memory within another came as no surprise to my grandmother or myself. It was a simple fact of life.” (Providence Point, p. 2)

That Russian-doll metaphor taps into a celebration of deep-seated continuities that recurs in one form or another throughout Providence Point. As always, new encounters delight us not only for the surprises they bring, but also because they are mysteriously the same.

Buildings, landscapes, artifacts, or pastimes … in a well-lived life the charm of variety blooms vigorously from the rich loam of meaningful coherence. In my own case, examples would include recalling but then adapting recipes handed down from earlier generations. Gardening in the spirit if not precisely the same style as a mentor. Or building a library of classic books with ample room for new favourites as well.

But what about you? If this pattern makes sense, by all means leave a comment with additional instances that come to your mind.

And if you’d like to read more, find your preferred hardcover, paperback, or Kindle edition of Providence Point via the links on the About the Book page.

(Illustration generated by AI)