I've got a good excuse.

This blog is getting little love these days, but lots of other things in my life are getting all the attention they deserve.

Things like:

• Raising the Roof, and the Rent for Andy Frank - an all-star cast gathering for the benefit of a truly wonderful man.

•  I'm the voice behind the curtain at Borealis Records! Follow us on Twitter and Like us on Facebook.

• Things just keep on rolling at Roots Music Canada

• And of course, newly wedded bliss. 

Forgive me, won't you?

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.

marking the season

This amazing watercolour work by Poppy and Pinecone reminds me of squished strawberries. Watch for me in the Cobourg parade, along with the rest of SVFF.

good measure

vernal equinox

I love this time of year.

found object

Found these two photos in a draft of this blog this afternoon, with little other information besides the tags: "family, Paris, photography." It was dated January 11, 2010.

The photos are indeed from Paris, a trip I took about a year and a half ago (time flies). The roses were grown in Rodin's garden. I didn't pay the few Euros extra to enter the house and, in fact, was little interested in the statues anyway. It was all about the flowers.

A little more than a week after my return from Europe, my grandfather had a stroke, and I spent the better part of a day alone in a curtained-off cubicle of an intensive care ward with him. At one point I pulled out some prints I'd been carrying around in my purse. We looked through them together and I attempted to narrate the scenes of Morroccan sunshine, Spanish food and yes, Parisian roses.

There's something about these roses, and their browned edges and autumn light.