my heart it longs for something new

I'm taking a course that requires me to watch Before Sunset, the second in that talk-y, romantic Richard Linklater/Ethan Hawke/Julie Delpy trilogy.

So I dutifully watched it, then watched Before Midnight, because I hadn't seen it yet. Then I watched a few Youtube scenes from Before Sunrise, the first film, and that's when I re-watched this scene, where Celine find's a Kath Bloom album in a Vienna record store, and she and Jesse cozy into a listening booth and listen to this amazing song.



Since then I've learned basically all that the Internet holds about Kath Bloom: a total forgotten gem who had a fairly short career in the early eighties, after which she mostly focused on child-raising, was re-discovered by Linklater and featured in the film in the mid-nineties, she released a new recording in 1999 and has been recording and touring periodically ever since. These songs are just so simple and lovely.

I don't know what is happening in this video, or why, really, but this SONG. So pared down, so achy.



In 2009, there was a tribute to her songs made called Loving Takes This Course (that title.) and it includes this cover by Scout Niblett, which is on repeat forever.



Kath Bloom, everyone. Kath Bloom.

a squirrel & two acorns

lately I've gotten really into having a bit of stationery around. some cards, some envelopes. maybe it's our digitalized social landscape. maybe it's the appeal of colour & graphics. it's a big old lady-ish, I admit, but I think it's a step in my general constant life-goal of GETTING IT TOGETHER.

last night in the very early morning I was up with the babe, thinking of the cards I've been sending out most recently. they are flat cards, with "flora & fauna" designs: a bird on a branch, a winding rose, a collection of leaves: oak & fern & beyond, and a squirrel flanked by two acorns. for each occasion, i flip through them, try to determine the mythical & cultural meanings of each. does a squirrel with acorns convey the emotion I want to express?

I have sent cards of thanks, for hostess & housewarming gifts; cards to say hello; two cards, to two different families, to express grief at the loss of their child; a congratulatory card for a bridal shower. this little box of cards and envelopes has carried me through.

the kind of light

This month has been full of festivity, wonder and transition. And I'm so grateful.

Now that the celebrations have ended and my mind can turn to other things again, it turns to the season, with some mournfulness. Though there was a bed of leaves for a wedding aisle, wild and gorgeous colour on the Georgian Bay shoreline, the richness of a community campfire and the quiet light from a woodstove (in which I roasted a sole marshmallow), I feel that something is missing from my experience of autumn - that is, the harvest. Getting my hands dirty with pumpkin guts and "laying in" and preparing for the winter ahead.
There's still time, I'm sure of it.

Things I'm thinking of:
-bringing in the red raspberry leaves
-preserving some kale vinegar
-embracing gray days
-drinking hot tea
-wearing long johns
-tidying up the corners of this big little house
-parsing through the remnants of the beautiful party
-working on a new project with my sisters

Edit: I wrote that a few days ago, and perhaps I'm just posting it now because I'm feeling something of a sense of accomplishment. A few of us who are nearest and dearest have spent most of the weekend together, seeing fine music made at our local pub, walking, looking, tasting at the farmer's market and enjoying warmth and tea on the couch. In the meantime, my hands have been busy: kale, venison, baking, preserving. Welcome, autumn. Goodbye, autumn.

night touches morning

I'm up in the place where night touches morning, and I can't decide whether to make granola or go back to bed.

I'm enjoying the change of seasons in this season of change. And for the moment, I'm just listening to the rain.

This is the time that comes before. I'll be here until I'm there.

Disposable

I just got some prints back from some disposable cameras I was playing around with in the fall. I'm in love with the quirks and the graininess and the colours. Or maybe I'm just in love with that sunshine.

Here's some treats from my late-fall trip to Halifax. Mostly various types of treetops.

still standing by the tracks

Wild and wonderful things found in sunlit corners of a salvage and restoration yard in downtown Cobourg on Saturday afternoon.

the rambling quest

As someone who has been know to fly north for the summer, may I highly recommend that we all take a minute to listen to Michael Hurley's Wildegeeses from Ida Con Snock.

It's only in the wildness can you name her

It's only in the wildness can you tame her

my neck of the woods

If one looks closely, it's possible to see (in no particular order): a fifth birthday, a herd of caribou, the hand of Franklin, generations living in harmony, the edges of the outside world and more than one moment of wonder and gratitude.