31 October 2010
30 October 2010
29 October 2010
Riparian Bastard Me
Time seems to be running at full brisk these baby days. What's the hurry? I look around and spy elegance and debris. Luck. "You're a lucky bastard," I tell myself, and kick a tin can into the river, watch it malinger in eddies before dropping down into shoals I can faintly detect.
28 October 2010
27 October 2010
Month Ten In A Series of Twelve
High winds persist. And today I took four more ripe red tomatoes off the vine - probably our last tomatoes of the season (a freeze is expected later this week). What a strange thing to still be eating vine-ripe tomatoes in October! (By Janelle's count our five or so plants have exacted 80+ fruits over the past few months.) And as I type this the gourds outside sway violently in the gale...
October Meditation
This precarious kairn is made from rocks we found on the shoreline of Lake Superior this summer. It has been stacked like this on our front porch for the past two and a half months.
26 October 2010
Gospel Sounds of Rain
Dear Thelonius, I was up at five this morning eating toast and writing down my dreams while cold rains swept across the region. I thought about the African-American church and how I once read that your sound was a gospel sound. Then a memory: my grandmother halfing a stick of gum and silently handing it to me while the pastor rained down his hellfire.
