Slowpoke

Winter is slow to arrive this year. October was basically September weather, all through November it felt like October, and now that it's December it only just feels like November. There was the sparest, lightest little dusting this morning, but it's gone already. We are stuck in the bleak pre-snow season of craggy branches and grey backdrops. It's dark by 4pm and still dark when the alarm shrieks. Delightfully melancholy, but more suited to post-Halloween than the advent of Christmas.

This semester was tough (hence my lack of luster here). Not because of workload - or rather not because of school workload. More due to work-workload. That's changing though, for better or worse, and I am job hunting for the first time in rather a long while. Equal parts thrill and terror, I tell you. Let's all hope that something lovely and fun comes along, part-time so I can stay at my favourite library too.

The Redwall gang heading to a winter celebration by Christopher Denise

I feel all craggy and grey, like the weather. This busy semester has left me with little time for stretching my limbs and they're in danger of atrophy. I tried doing yoga the other day and I felt like one of those aged newcomers who only go to the first class and bend over, forever suspended, fingers never reaching toes. Stiff, sore and old. That's how I felt. Weird. If this is a preview, I don't approve.

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I have kept up with reading, moreso than usual during school. Not a reading-heavy semester so I had a bit of time on the commute or before bed. It's so very nice to slip into another world now and then, even a strange somewhat sinister one, or just to slip into the past. Now I'm starting in on my festive reading. Since the weather isn't doing it, the books should put me in a seasonal frame of mind.

(I couldn't decide which trailer I liked best... so you get both!)

Other Autumnal highlights include catching up with an old friend (how is it possible that we'd not spoken for six years? Six? Jeez.) and then there a was a brief dash to stay in a walled city. It's not far from here, but we don't go often. It was really nice, just for a couple of days, to play tourist and to eat scrumptious things. This spot is totally worth it, if ever you visit and feel like a treat. Also, just a block or so away, is this little chocolaterie which is what I imagine Willy Wonka's factory smells like. Go there just to breathe, seriously. 

"And that true North, whereof we lately heard"*

We stand on guard for thee

 Oh Canada. How do I celebrate? Let me count the ways.

1. Reading
 Did you follow Canada Reads, way back in February? Was anyone else thinking Who invited Debbie Travis? None the less, there were plenty of intriguing book recommendations to be had. I am a little ashamed to say that I've read none of this years nominees, but the program was enough to spark my interest in all of them. Essex County and The Birth House were both on my to-read list for ages, but The Best Laid Plans was no where near my radar and now I'm pretty sure I'll enjoy it. There are clearly a lot of CBC listeners at my library because all five books have spiked in popularity since this winter and are now appearing on lots of bookclub lists.It's The Book of Negroes all over again! Actually, not quite. That one's still going strong.

2. Online Reading
Some of my favourite Canuck haunts, online (in no particular order):

poppytalk
Hark! A Vagrant
sweet | salty
Schmutzie
Hey, Lady Grey
Jillian Tamaki
The Muffin Myth (every recipe is good, every single one)
Susan Juby

3. Travel
Coast to coast! Sort of. Well, I went home to see my family in April, which is on the west coast and I live in Montreal so you know. From sea to shining... er... river.

In my parent's back yard

Forest near where I grew up, lower mainland BC - why did ALL my forest photos end up fuzzy? Why? 

Deep Cove

Stanley Park, 3rd Beach (I think?) in the rain

More rain at the beach/seawall

At the heron reserve in Chilliwack. Make sure to enlarge this to see the neat heron-shape.

 

Also, I went canoeing in Parc Mont-Tremblant a couple of weeks ago. Which was lovely. Except for the bugs. 

What are they doing? Our best guess was "eating bird poop", which is what's under them. Not so pretty anymore, are they? 

Erosion is neat.

Loon!

Taken from under a large towel where I was hiding from black flies.

Just last weekend I was in Ottawa to visit mon frère. It rained a lot, so we went to the Natural History Musem (er, I mean the Canadian Museum of Nature), which was gorgeous inside and out.

Outside

And in.

I think the dioramas will get their own post because I'm kind of in love with them.

Aaaaaand, well, I complain a lot but actually Montreal's not such a bad city afterall.

La Main/Blvd Saint-Laurent street fair

4. Eating/buying local

The lip balm you always wanted. Nothing is better. NOTHING. (Man, their online boutique isn't up yet. When it is, vanilla cream. Trust me.)
This is where I'm doing yoga over the summer, lovely studio and lovely teacher.
This is where my produce is coming from over the summer. We just got our first basket last week and it was mostly lettuce + greens and it was very tasty indeed.
This really is the best coffee to be found in the Concordia/Faubourg part of downtown (which is where I am 3 days per week). I had stopped treating myself to fancy coffees at the office, but since I discovered Myriade I am less able to resist temptation. They take their barista-ing seriously. As they should.
Café Oxford (in NDG) is where Adrien and I like to go for breakfast/brunch most weekends. The food's great, and I love how much fresh fruit comes with the meals. Fruit like mango and local berries, not just the standard slice of cantaloupe. Well, they have that too, but they leave it off if you ask (I do).
I just got this new tote bag because it's too darn cute.

New tote! Art by Jillian Tamaki.

Arlington Farm

source

Happy Canada Day neighbours! How do you celebrate?

* Tennyson: To the Queen

"The blue unbroken circle of the sea"*

"Longing" by Judith Signoriello

Sea Fever by John Masefield

  source

I must go down to the seas again,

to the lonely sea and the sky

and all I ask is a tall ship,

and a star to steer her by;

 

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song

and the white sails shaking,

And the grey mist in the sea’s face,

and a grey dawn breaking.

 

I must go down to the seas again,

for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call

that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day

with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume,

and the seagulls crying. 

I must go down to the seas again,

to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale's way

where the wind’s like a whetted knife

And all I ask is a merry yarn

From a laughing fellow rover,

and quiet sleep and a sweet dream

when ere the long trip’s over

Dover, photo credit, found here

"Pacific Ocean" by Lupen Grainne

"Day at the Beach" by Lupen Grainne

Bahamas, March 2011

Bahamas, March 2011

Cape Meares (Oregon), photo: Laini Taylor

"One with the Sea" by Robert Cadloff

powered by Fotopedia

Beach near Bamfield, BC

* Title: Sara Teasdale, From the Sea

I spy with my little eye



A springtime image by David Peterson of Mouse Guard


+ Some purple hyacinths in an old honey jar, next to the window. Stems reaching, flowers beginning to fold in on themselves, heady scent starting to fade.

+ A boy on the bus, with foot-long eyelashes which are completely incongruous with his thick stubble.

+ Unspeakably scary news from the other side of the world, of trembling earth and colossal waves. Just like that, out of nowhere, for so many people everything is gone.

+ A couple, on the corner, trying to take an arm's length photo. Laughing because instead they took video of themselves posing.

+ Pigeons bathing in the street-side lakes that had formed overnight, as the city temporarily thawed. Whole parties of pigeons gathering at the pool, dipping under the surface before popping up, feathers askew, spray fanning out around them.

+ An office, on a mezzanine, reached by spiral staircase, overlooking the library, inside of a museum, with a window looking out on busy streets and falling snow. A place where one catalogues 16th century dresses and 18th century books. In a word, heaven.

+ A café, done entirely in white. Blinding: stark, bright, white. White wicker, white tables, white walls. Glass cases full of tiny delectables dusted with the green crumble of crushed pistachio. Customers wearing tweed and cashmere, sipping espresso from tiny white cups. A small white dish with two maracons.

+ A chunk of ice, hanging precariously over a doorway. Water dripping continuously. Will it shrink, or will it fall?

+ A suitcase, open on my living room floor. A passport, a pair of strappy shoes with height (I have to practice wearing those...), a sun hat, a book. A trip I would never have planned, but am grateful to be invited on.

+ An accidental glimpse in the mirror beside the coffee maker in the office kitchen. Dressed this morning by going: what is on the top of the pile? Grey cardigan it is. Hair coiffed at desk, after removal of hat + coat, and pulled back into a static-defying ponytail. Make up? Not really. But in that glimpse: rosy cheeks, happy eyes, as-if-on-purpose hair with just the right flyaways. How many times do we look in the mirror and not want to change a thing? Not often enough.

+ A paperback in my purse, for reading on the bus. A great cover. Purple, naturally.

Smoke and Mirrors: Short Fictions and Illusions by Neil Gaiman

New York City (from June 2008) ~ Part 4