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| snow is melting |
After seeing nothing but snow for months now, it's so exciting to go for a walk and see THINGS. Grass, whole bushes, furry buds on the trees, seaweed & driftwood on the beach. i discovered that you can polish driftwood with a stone & yesterday i made myself a hair stick. and i taught our friends, who are the owners & chefs of the local Asian restaurant how to cook scrumptious Indian food (but forgot to take a photo for the blog, d'oh!)
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| the hair stick i made from driftwood |
Also, i danced for the first time since i dislocated my knee :) we went to the local film festival & met an amazing animator (Martine Chartrand who paints on glass: http://www.nfb.ca/film/black_soul/). i've been spending a lot of time with crystals. (that's maybe a whole other part of me that some of you don't know. can see my work here: http://crystal-light-web.blogspot.com). i've been preparing to launch an etsy shop, taking photos, writing blurbs about the pieces i have made, & of course the actual of the crystal necklaces.
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| breakfast w/Dodo Rouge (who got camera shy) |
For those interested, i'd also like to share some of the writing is did the first day i sat outside the yurt (which i mentioned in the last post).
9 Things i Hear [& a story concerning squirrels]
1. It gets so silent here that the flapping of crows’ wings counts as an
Event.
2. Droning of fridge and flies disrupts the silence.
3. Do i hear electricity marching through the wires, or crickets
chirp-croakin’ in the dogwood?
Which has more stamina?
4. The surround-sound of nature’s amphitheatre makes the cries of even
the crass seagulls an auditory feast.
5. Unseen geese honks, coyotes’ howls & wood peckers’ drills gives
an eerie sense of irrelative space in the valley. I can’t tell the distances between these things: i don’t know how or where i fit in.
6. The line “a peace that passeth understanding” could’ve been written
for the silent space i feel inside here.
7. Buddha-still i contemplate a list of words, concentration buried
beneath layers of syntax. The Jay
lands suddenly at my feet, our squealed shocks ricocheting off one another:
like opposing magnets of sound, we are both pushed physically backward. Sometimes i am unsure to whom the
fright belongs, but my heart thuds as though it were all mine.
8. The rare times a car
passes, i curse “bloody highway”.
i do it just to hear Antoine’s laugh.
9. i can’t decide if i
prefer the French word ‘brouhaha’ or its English counterpart ‘hubbub’. i
whisper them aloud.
Memories of a morning i awoke to a scratching scramble coming from above. Squeezing open an eye, i reluctantly
brought into focus the transparent circle in the centre of the yurt’s
roof. A sprawled, grey shadow
appeared, accompanying the grating thumps. The petit mass threw itself uncertainly across the
roof. It bounced & belly-flopped
in semi-circles around the chimney, as though performing some kind of pagan
theatre piece to a smoky (volcanic-esq) god. My eyes and mind finally
co-ordinated to conjure the word: squirrel. And as if the label broke the spell, he
was gone. Sliding down the ropes
with the air of a circus-performer exiting from a magnificent show.
And yes, Dodo-Rouge is still dining with us!
