I’ve been listening to this often:
I’ve set the rain
to be cold and hard
I’ve set the sun to
be bright and sharp
To wake you up
from your hollow dream
I’ll shake your bed
with a thunder strike
from my handLet’s come all steal
we will lie and cheat
and turn around
all their limit signs
and redirect this
this great old boring road
into the depths
of a lion’s mouthJust to see
if there’s something we believe.…
After a year without a decent camera, the resident photographer is back in action ! Colours of a southern Ontario winter:
Sebastien at Leslie Spit, Toronto Ontario.
Is it New Year already ?
A whole week in – I’m wearing purple and green – does that count ?
I make no special resolution.
Every night I’m full of resolutions; they lay thick on my wrists; they drip from my fingers. If I could live in that first hour after bed, what I wouldn’t accomplish!
I played with beads yesterday evening instead of finishing the painting. Feet to the fire ! I should finish the painting ! The resolutions were flying.
Have you followed a butterfly’s flight ? Perhaps my attention bears too much resemblance. Does painting fit with that ?
I landed on a new name: Curiosity Artist.
It will have to be enough.
A thought for Boxing Day:
The unceasing propaganda in our time for “the individual” seems to me deeply suspect, as “individuality” itself becomes more and more a synonym for selfishness. A capitalist society comes to have a vested interest in praising “individuality” and “freedom” — which may mean little more than the right to the perpetual aggrandizement of the self, and the freedom to shop, to acquire, to use up, to consume, to render obsolete.
– Susan Sontag
Here’s to walking along the edges this coming year !
If It Be Your WillIf it be your will
That I speak no more
And my voice be still
As it was before
I will speak no more
I shall abide until
I am spoken for
If it be your will …
The photographer has taken the camera and fled to the wilderness, so you have to imagine the scene. The garden is in all its fall glory, which is to say it is a mess of almost spent plants accompanied by an understory of weeds going to seed (but oh so beautiful). I could claim a case of tendentious as a weed excuse, but truthfully past falls have been similar. A small flock of Chipping Sparrows came yesterday to glean those weed seeds. They seemed particularly fond of the crab grass. A few Goldfinches, dressed now in duller tones, kept lookout from drying spikes of wild Evening Primrose. I took their presence as a blessing on my wild gardening ways.
I read this line today:
I think I’ve managed that with our little piece of urban land. And now, each footfall will be a long good-bye. This coming summer we will be moving back to the west coast and the place that has always felt like home. We’re excited, and sad, and hopeful. We’ll walk paths long remembered but transformed in our absence. Hopefully, both old and new will be muses for my feet to love.
It’s still hot – and DRY ! I feel like I’ve spent all Summer watering the garden. It will be cold soon enough though, and we’ll be glad of the “stored heat” in all the things gathered and squirrelled away. I dug horseradish root on the weekend and added that to the already harvested cayenne, garlic and onions as a base for fire cider. Fresh ginger and turmeric made it in too, along with a few herbs that called out to me: rosemary, wild bergamot, calendula and echinacea. Heat to melt Winter’s cold !