Thursday, January 10, 2013 at 10:27 PM
I’m hibernating. After three-and-a-half gruelling years of building work, the house and I are breathing a massive sigh of relief. An ongoing exhalation. A settling. Readjusting. Finding our still centre once more.
For me that translates as taking time to doze, to read, to play the piano, to stand high on a rock and watch the clouds sleep on the valley floor. Sunk in a January slumber of their own.
Thursday, January 3, 2013 at 8:18 PM
I read that the popular media got it wrong. All their widespread reporting of the Mayan forecast predicting the end of the world last month…..not quite correct.
What the Mayan calendar actually prophesied (apparently) was that 2012 would mark the end of an era. And that 2013 would usher in a golden new age.
Which makes me glad to be alive right here, right now. Teetering tiptoed on the edge of that shiny future. Excited to watch it unfold. Awed to be a part of it.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012 at 11:30 PM
Wishing you peace this Christmas….
Thursday, December 13, 2012 at 9:49 PM
If you were wondering where I’ve been lately, here’s your answer.
After a long (very, very, very, very long) period of renovation work on our home, my beloved piano has finally returned from exile (otherwise known as storage). And are we glad to see one another!
Moreover, there can be few pianos in the world with a prettier view. Which makes it even harder to leave that stool.
If you’re in the mood for singing carols this Christmas, you know where to come.
Thursday, December 6, 2012 at 10:50 PM Black ice. We’re treading gingerly. Today’s will be a slow walk.
Chunks of ice litter the reservoir road like crystals fallen from a giant’s necklace.
There are feathers…
Feathers, feathers and more feathers. There’s been a massacre in the night.
We come upon a tree, its lower half in deepest shade, its topmost twigs in sunlight...
An abandoned hub cap, snapped in two…
It’s finger-nippingly cold. The sun is on the farther shore. Where we can admire it best.
We stop to examine two hoops, missing the log usually threaded between them. Two cyclists pass by. And say hello.
