Death by Cold

Winter Landscape, with Rooks
Sylvia Plath

Water in the millrace, through a sluice of stone,
 plunges headlong into that black pond
where, absurd and out-of-season, a single swan
 floats caste as snow, taunting the clouded mind
which hungers to haul the white reflection down.

The austere sun descends above the fen,
 an orange cyclops-eye, scorning to look
longer on this landscape of chagrin;
 feathered dark in thought, I stalk like a rook,
brooding as the winter night comes on.

Last summer's reeds are all engraved in ice
 as is your image in my eye dry frost
glazes the window of my hurt; what solace
 can be struck from rock to make heart's waste
grow green again? Who'd walk in this bleak place?

It is May 29th and it is snowing. I just love Alberta weather (note the intense sarcasm). I am a naturally chilly person most of the time and my parents' house isn't exactly the warmest place in the world so I have been freezing cold all day. I'm decently warm right now because I am sitting on my bed wrapped in a fuzzy blanket with my laptop producing heat. I've basically been drinking tea non-stop all day in an effort to stay warm. My hands are still cold though. The snow/rain combo thing and the cold have made me kind of...I don't know exactly how to describe it. I just get into my own head and things become kind of...off. It's kind of like being upset about something without knowing what you are upset about. If you've lived with me you probably have witnessed these moods multiple times and know what I'm talking about. Some days I just get into this mental space and can't quite pull myself out. Now this isn't always a problem, but when it is compounded by bad weather or something not working out or tons of stress or something, it can become downright unpleasant, especially for those around me. Anyway, that is kind of the head space I am in today. Whenever I get like this I have the urge to read Sylvia Plath. I know that may be disturbing for some people, but honestly it isn't. She just has an incredible ability to capture raw and intense emotions in words. So, I picked up my trusty copy of The Collected Poems: Sylvia Plath, which I hunted for for quite a long time before finally finding a copy in Munro's in Victoria (a GLORIOUS bookstore), and "Winter Landscape, with Rooks" seemed appropriate for today's weather and my mental state. I love the line "Last summer's reeds are all engraved in ice". There is something about it that seems appropriate for a May snowstorm. And "feathered dark in thought" seems to capture the brooding quality of my state of mind right now.

I took this picture on choir tour a couple of years ago. We stopped in Waterton, but because it was still the end of April it was still cold enough for there to be some snow around and the lake to be all icy. These were the sweet ice formations along the shoreline. I think they are pretty awesome.

I hope all of you who are Albertans are staying warm in this freaky weather!

Impressionism, Post-Impressionism, and a Love of Art

I totally intended to post this last night, but for some reason I was exceptionally tired and was up late chatting with a friend so I decided to just crash and post it today. I spent a delightful afternoon yesterday wandering around the art gallery with my dear friend. One of the exhibts they have right now is a collection of Degas's paintings and sculptures. Both of us are huge fans of Degas so it was pretty fantastic. His work is simply incredible, particularly his dancers. There is just a quality about his work that draws the viewer in. When I was at the exhibit a couple months ago with my class someone commented that his sculptures make you want to try and imitate their poses, and that is totally true. There is a grace and power to the way that his figures are positioned that is absolutely incredible. Even though they are completely still you get a sense of movement. The attention to detail is exquisite, and yet the faces of his figures are almost entirely non-descript, even blurred to the point of non-identity. Something about this makes them all the more powerful though. His paintings of dancers capture the simplest, fleeting, intimate moments: adjusting a strap on a dress, or hushed, excited whispers backstage. So lovely. I honestly think we could have stayed in that room for the whole afternoon just talking about his works.

I actually have a great love for the Impressionists and Post-Impressionists. That was probably my favorite part of art history this year. I wish I could take an entire class on them, but sadly there isn't one available at King's and commuting isn't really an option for me. Anyway. When I took these pictures a couple of weeks ago something about the colors and lines reminded me a bit of impressionistic paintings. Even though the tulip was dying, there was something exceptionally beautiful about it. Plus it makes for a bit of a different flower picture from what I normally take.

Great souls by instinct to each other turn, Demand alliance, and in friendship burn - Addison

If you read yesterday's post then you know my deep love of poetry. I also have a love of old books. I mean, really old books. Not just books that were my grandmother's (although those can be cool too), but books from the 1800s and early 1900s. One of my favorite finds is A Dictionary of Poetical Quotations from English and American Poets by Anna L. Ward. It is copyright 1883, but the inscription in the front presents it to someone for Christmas 1902. And there is a newspaper clipping from goodness knows when in the middle of the section on love. It's a printing of Shakespeare's "Let me not to the marriage of true minds" and has been in the same spot in the book long enough to discolour the pages. I love imagining stories about who owned the book and why they put the newspaper clipping into it. I am such a romantic at heart. Anyway, the book itself is quite beautiful. I'll photograph it some time and share it with all of you. I love it dearly. These images are from a quick photoshoot I did with the section titled "Friendship". I just loved the quotes and they seemed to capture a bit of what I'm feeling today:

I count myself in nothing else so happy,
As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends.
Shakspeare: Richard II Act ii. Sc. 3

                    True happiness
Consists not in the multitude of friends,
But in the worth and choice.
Ben Jonson: Cynthia's Revels Act iii. Sc. 2

Friendship's an abstract of this noble flame,
'Tis love refin'd, and purged from all its dross,
'Tis next to angel's love, if not the same,
As strong in passion is , though not so gross.
Catherine Philips

That third quote is just visible in the second picture. It didn't strike me when I was taking the photos, so it isn't quite in focus. It did strike me when I was going through all the photos so I figured I would type it out for all of you. I think it is quite beautiful and quite true. The title of this post is another quote from the same book. I've been spending a lot of time with some dear friends lately and am beginning to realize that even if I don't have a LOT of friends I do have some spectacular people in my life that I am truly blessed to know.

La belle dame sans merci

La belle dame sans merci

John Keats

O what can ail thee knight at arms,

  Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered from the lake

  And no birds sing!

O what can ail thee knight at arms,

  So haggard and so woe begone?

The squirrel's granary is full

  And the harvest's done.

I see a lilly on thy brow

  With anguish moist and fever dew,

And on they cheeks a fading rose

  Fast Withereth too -

I met a Lady in the Meads

  Full beautiful, a faery's child;

Her hair was long, her foot was light

  And her eyes were wild -

I made a Garland for her head,

  And bracelets too, and fragrant Zone

She look'd at me as she did love

  And made sweat moan -

I set her on my pacing steed

  And nothing else saw all day long,

For sidelong would she bend, and sing

  A faery's song -

She found me roots of relish sweet

  And honey wild and manna dew,

And sure in language strange she said

  I love thee true -

She took me to her elfin grot

  And there she wept and sigh'd full sore,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

  With kisses four.

And there she lulled me asleep

  And there I dream'd - Ah! Woe betide!

The latest dream I ever dreamt

  On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and Princes too,

  Pale warriors, death pale were they all;

They cried 'La bell dame sans merci

  Thee hath in thrall.'

I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam

  With horrid warning gaped wide,

And I awoke and found me here

  On the cold hill's side.

And this is why I sojourn here

  Alone and palely loitering;

Though the sedge is wither'd from the Lake

  And no birds sing.

Has anyone else seen the movie Bright Star? I absolutely adore it, and have probably mentioned it on here before. The film tells the story of John Keats and Fanny Brawne and is a poignant and beautiful love story. After I first watched it I decided that I could happily fall in love with a poet. Now, I love poetry. There is something wonderful about luxuriating in a wonderful poem. You have to read poetry slowly, at least I find that the poetry I enjoy the most has to be read slowly. You have to drink it in in sips, not gulps. I haven't always loved poetry though. In fact, I almost used transfer credits to allow me to skip out on the second half of intro English (which, at King's, focuses on poetry and drama). However, I decided that I might as well take it just in case I decided to choose English as my major. That class was absolutely wonderful, and it made me truly fall in love with poetry. I wrote my first paper that semester on Walt Whitman's "To a Locomotive in Winter" and Emily Dickinson's "I like to see it lap the miles" and suddenly discovered how much I loved delving into a poem, looking at the words and turns of phrase and poetic devices. I know that not everyone shares this opinion; in fact, most of the people I know are of the "poetry is a waste of time" school of thought. However, thanks to a wonderful professor, who, incidentally, also is the person who convinced me to go into English studies, I have a profound enjoyment of poetry. Despite this love of poetry, I have never really been able to appreciate the Romantics. I don't know what it is. Perhaps it is simply because I have read the same poems over and over and over again and since I didn't love them in the first place they have come to leave a bitter taste in my mouth. So I was quite suprised when I finished watching Bright Star and emerged with a deep desire to read John Keats. Having the incomparable voice of Ben Whishaw reading the poems in the film (since he plays Keats) probably had something to do with it, but it is more than that. I bought the Complete Poems of John Keats and dearly love them. They are fantastical and dream-like, beautiful, thoughtful...in short, they are exactly the kind of poetry that one must drink in ever so slowly. And for that, they are wonderful.

One of the reasons I turn to poetry is to recharge my artistic batteries. Whenever I am feeling a bit uninspired or like I might want to take an office job after my undergrad rather than pursuing my masters I automatically turn to music and literature. I soak myself in art, particularly words. Poetry reminds me why I love words so much. This artistic "bath" is always enough for me to kick-start my own creativity. It makes me want to write, or photograph, or draw, or sing, or play piano, anything creative will do. That's one of the reasons I turned to a poem for today's post. Although, I had a lovely weekend filled with birthday celebrations for a dear friend, a lazy, rainy Sunday reading Mansfield Park and The Sound and the Fury while drinking tea, and an evening with my best friend who I haven't seen in ages, the idea of blogging and being creative was almost overwhelming. So, today I resolved to post something. And not just something mediocre, but something that I could feel truly satisfied with. Thus, I turned to poetry and music to inspire me...and voila! a beautiful (if I do say so myself) blog post.

In order to make up for my absence the past few days, I bring you a lovely, long post today. These pictures seem to capture the fantastical, dream-like quality of the poem I've paired them with. First up we have an image from Jasper, the day that my roommates and I drove out there for a picnic (I've posted images from that trip here and here). I did absolutely nothing to this picture editing-wise, that is just how the light was in that little nook of the trail. Absolute perfection. Next is an image from several years ago on a youth retreat at Camp Nakamun. It was early October so the trees were bare and there was just a grey quality to everything. I (obviously) made the image black and white and then I gave it a bit of a "glow" to give it the dream-like quality called for in this set of images. The third image is once again from our Jasper trip. The original image is in color and the blue sky is really intense, but because it was so shady in the forest the trees are all dark and shadowy. I felt like making it black and white gave it an almost eerie quality that was suited to the fantastical nature of this poem. Pretty much the same story goes for the next image as well. Finally, we have an image from a walk I took with a couple friends through the Edmonton River Valley in the fall of 2007. It was a really gorgeous day. This shadowy bit of a creek (no that is not the North Saskatchewan River) seemed perfect for this post. I upped the color saturation a bit just to intensify the dreaminess of it that much more. There you have it, a bona fide photography blog post!

Spring in Unexpected Places

I love being suprised by nature. You know, those moments where you spot something beautiful or unique where you weren't expecting it. I love that. I always think of evergreens as very wintery trees. I think this is because winter is so long here and that is really the only time of year I pay attention to them. Yesterday while I was wandering around the garden though I noticed the buds on the trees out front of our house are starting to appear. I used to love pulling the brown, papery bits off when I was younger. I always thought that I was freeing the pretty little green needles, which are suprisingly soft. After I pulled the paper off I would always run them through my fingers. Hopefully this didn't kill a whole bunch of evergreen buds...that would be unfortunate. Anyway, yesterday the buds just kind of suprised me so I took some pictures of them. I love the contrast between the soft, baby buds and the prickly older needles and the dead, brittle needles. I upped the color saturation in the photo to really make this contrast stand out. I think this officially means that it is spring/summer. If the wintery trees have decided to bud, I'm going to take that as a good sign.

Splish splash drip drop goosh goosh goosh TIDAL WAVE

So there was no tidal wave (it would have to be one mighty big tidal wave to get all the way to Edmonton...), but I was trying to think of a rain/water related title and that good old camp song popped into my head. Just think of all the brain space I could clear out if I forgot all the lyrics and actions to such songs. However, I think that they are forever burned into my memory. I will be 90 years old and completely gaga, unable to remember anything or anyone but I will still be able to sing all those camp songs and do the actions to them. Anyway, today was a rainy day. In theory I'm okay with rainy days, but for some reason I was just going stir crazy today. My plan for the afternoon fell through and so the day felt incredibly long. I managed to come up with stuff to do this evening though, which helped immensely. In order to curb my boredom I decided to wander the garden taking pictures this afternoon. It had been raining really lightly for most of the day so everything was wet and grey, but I kind of like how some of the images turned out. This is one of them. Little tiny rain drops caught on the leaves of one of my mom's plants. It seems to capture the day quite well.

Carpets of flowers remind me of summer

I don't have a whole lot to say today so I am compensating by having multiple pictures. There is just something about endless carpets of flowers that spells summer to me. So beautiful. I took all of these pictures last Canada Day when I went to the Muttart Conservatory with a couple of my friends. I find flowers fascinating for so many reasons, thus I take a lot of pictures of them. They are all so different and unique. Different shapes and sizes and gorgeous colors. Plus there are so many different stages, buds and just opening and fully bloomed and dying...and every one is beautiful in its own way. I can't grow plants to save my life, but I sure love taking pictures of them.

Sunshine on the water looks so lovely, sunshine almost always makes me high

Sunshine On My Shoulders

Carly Rae Jepsen

(cover of John Denver)

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy

Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry

Sunshine on the water looks so lovely

Sunshine almost always makes me high

If I had a day that I could give you

I would give a day sure to make you smile

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy

Sunshine almost always makes me high

If I had a day that I could give you

I would give to you a day just like today

If I had a song that I could sing for you

I would sing a song to make you feel this way

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy

Sunshine almost always makes me high

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy

Sunshine almost always makes me high

The past couple days have been gorgeous. Although, to be honest, today was a little bit hotter than I generally prefer my weather. All in all however it was a postiviely lovely day. Let summer begin! Carly Rae Jepsen's album, Tug of War, was the soundtrack of last summer. I love her cover of John Denver's "Sunshine on my shoulders". The whole album just has that perfectly summery, bouncy, happy, sunshine-y feeling to it and brings to mind walks on hot summer nights to visit with friends. Perfectly lovely.

I felt like this picture suited the "sunshine on the water is so lovely" line. The rest of the song just sums up how I've been feeling the past couple days. It is amazing how profound an effect the weather has on my mood. I took this picture a couple years ago when my roommates and I drove out to Jasper for a picnic. That might have made today even more perfect...although frankly the past couple days have been near perfection so I'm okay with being in Edmonton.

Envisioning Portsmouth

I have been looking at this picture for days now, thinking that I should post it but never knowing what to write about in connection with it. I finally have it though. I am currently working my way through Mansfield Park by Jane Austen. If you know me well then you probably know that I have a love for Jane Austen, particularly Pride and Prejudice, which I have read so many times that my copy (which is only four years old) is beginning to fall apart. Over the past year or so, I've been working through the rest of her novels and dearly loving them. I am just over halfway through Mansfield Park and Fanny's brother William has just come to visit. William is a midshipman and has been at sea for seven years. His ship comes to port in Portsmouth, which is where he and Fanny are from (although Fanny hasn't been there since she was ten). Now, I've seen the BBC version of Mansfield Park already so I have very dfinite impressions of the settings and characters and how they appear. Whenever Portsmouth or any other harbour town is mentioned this picture is the sort of thing that comes to mind. Weathered wood, fog, grey skies, patches of bright paint. It's really rather lovely. This particular image comes from Fortress Louisbourg on Cape Breton Island and is precisely what I think Portsmouth would look like. Fill the streets with Victorian English sailors and voila, you have one of the locales in Mansfield Park. Since I love Cape Breton and actually have a fondness for foggy days (although it was mighty cold there) and also love color, this image has a particular attraction for me. There is something so perfect about the pop of the red shutters against the grey weathered wood in the misty air. Lovely.

Unexpected Beauty

I'm a fan of this photo. A couple summers ago I spotted this flower growing through the chain link fence between our two back yards. I like the contrast between the beautiful flower and the hardness of the chain link, it seems kind of like a miniature representation of the contrast between nature and industrial cities. It's one of those suprising moments of beauty. I like it when nature suprises you. It kind of sneaks up and suddenly announces itself. "Hey, I'm here, look at me! I'm pretty!" I don't know why, but it always makes me smile.

Simplicity

This is one of my favorite pictures that I have taken. There is just something incredibly beautiful about the simplicity of the black and white photo of a single gerber daisy. There is also something intriguing about looking at flowers this way rather than from the top as is traditional. I'm a fan of this particular perspective (as seen here).

I had a very quiet day about the house and then went to the mall to pick up some tailoring. While there I spent a good amount of time wandering through Chapters, adding to my never ending list of books that I want to read and then sat in Starbucks reading Mansfield Park. Nothing big, nothing fancy, but quite lovely nonetheless. Sometimes the simplest things are the most perfect. I love getting lost in a good book, it's amazingly simple, but so wonderful.

When Life Hands You Lemons...

I'm not going to lie, today was kind of tough. Some good news, but it's the kind of good news that is so intertwined with the incredibly difficult, life-altering kind of stuff that it's hard to be happy about it. However, there is nothing to do about it at this point but take it and move on. Look on the bright side. Find the silver lining. Make some lemonade. Okay, so I'm still (really) struggling with that, but I'm trying at least. And that's what counts right?

Speaking of lemons, here is a picture of a lemon tree on the YWAM base in LA. Took this on the same trip as the picture from yesterday's post. The first half of the trip was spent in LA and the last half was spent in Tijuana. I appreciate the bright colors in this image, the brilliant green and yellow against the pale, yet intense blue of the sky...it's quite lovely. So maybe instead of making lemonade I'll make art. There we go, my new attitude, my new motto: When life hands you lemons, make art!

Live with Abandon

I am a perfectionist. This can be both an asset and a liability. It's great because I'm detail-oriented and will either do a job all the way or not do it at all. It's horrible because if I don't think I can do something perfectly or exactly the way I want I have a hard time motivating myself to actually do it. Case in point: my unpacking. I am down to all the odds and ends of items and in order to go through them all it is going to take a whole day of organizing. I haven't done it yet because I don't want to get half way through and run out of time or motivation. Lame reason, I know. I am also terrified of failure. I think this has to do with my perfectionism. Seriously. I want to get the perfect job, but I hate being rejected so I have the worst time handing out applications. I am always petrified that I will get a bad mark on papers and assignments, even if there is no real reason to think so, because I don't know if my work was absolutely perfect. I drive friends and family insane because I get upset over marks that are perfectly acceptable, but aren't what I wanted.

What does this have to do with a picture of birds flying across the sunny blue sky? Well, when I stumbled across this picture as I was trying to plan a post for tonight something about the sense of freedom that this picture evokes struck me. Something about not holding back and living with abandon. Perhaps that is a really weird connection to make, but that is where my brain went. I am sorry if this trip into the inner workings of my mind has frightened you. It is a scary place in there.

The picture is from almost four years ago when I was in Tijuana, Mexico with my youth group on a YWAM mission trip. I kind of love it. The bright blue sky, the brilliant sun, the group of birds. Very picturesque in a summery way.

Carly and Stuart's Engagement Photos

A couple of days ago I mentioned that I think a playground would be a sweet place to get engagement photos taken. And then on Saturday I mentioned that I just wrapped up a photography project last week. Well here is the reasoning behind both of those statments! For some of you these may not be new photos...but I'm sure you can deal with it.

One of my best friends in the world, Carly, got engaged to Stuart and they very sweetly (and perhaps quite bravely) asked me to take their engagement photos. Last fall we spent a Sunday afternoon at Fort Edmonton Park wandering around and taking photos. And then I took a million years to finish going through and editing them. Fort Edmonton is a fun place to hang out and has all of these sweet little places to sit and a variety of different opportunites for photos. Plus, Carly is a history lover so it seemed like an appropriate venue for engagment pictures. The day was gorgeously sunny, which caused some exposure issues in some of the photos, but also meant that Carly could show off her lovely dress and none of us were freezing and miserable (always easier to get smiling photos when no one is frozen). These are the pictures that I like the best from the shoot. It makes me feel all proud and professional to finally have these done.

Happy Mother's Day

Just a quick note to say that I hope all had a lovely Mother's Day. Twas a quiet day around here, but quite all right. I leave you with the springy and Mother's Day appropriate daisies. And I promise tomorrow's post will make up for the thinness of today's.

Moments of Brightness

Let's face it, this week has not been that great for me. Between being sick (which I am still fighting off the spin off ramifications of that flu) and not yet having a job and discovering that very few of my clothes actually fit me any more (and yet, due to the job situation, I lack funds to replace said clothes), this simply has not been one of the best weeks ever. However, there have been bright spots. I saw a fantastic play on Sunday night. The Citadel does a Shakespeare play every season and this year it was As You Like It. The best live production of Shakespeare I have ever been to (and I can think of 11 productions that I have been to so this isn't a "it's the best I've been to" but I've actually only been to two). I got my marks back and did waaaaaaaaaaay better than I was expecting to. I had a major photography project that I finally wrapped up get good (dare I say rave?) reviews so far. I'll share that with you some time in the next couple days. I read A Little Princess and watched The Young Victoria. So, even amongst the disgusting week there have still been bright spots.

This picture seemed to capture that sentiment nicely. I love the bright pops of orange flowers against the grey rocky background and in amongst the dry, dead twigs. This was taken in Victoria last summer. Just along the side of a parking lot. I made my family stop while I took pictures. Man, I must be annoying to travel with...

Sunsets

the piles of red or gold clouds in the west; or the purple ones edged with dazzling brightness; or the little fleecy, floating ones, tinged with rose-color and looking like flights of pink doves scurrying across the blue in a great hurry if there was a wind -- A Little Princess Frances Hodgson Burnett

I have reached the point in my illness where I feel well enough to be tired of just sitting on the couch watching tv all day but not well enough to actually contemplate doing anything (I still have yet to put on makeup and I've been walking around in the same hoodie for the past few days, which, if you know me, you know is a sure fire sign that I am not feeling well). Anyway, after an hour or so of watching Say Yes to the Dress and then a bit of Food Network (although substantially less than the past few days) I was going a bit stir crazy. I decided that rather than sitting on the couch watching tv, I would sit on the couch reading a book. I read all of A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett today. I know it's a children's book, but I loved it. I mean seriously loved it. It has been quite a while since I got that much pure joy out of reading a book. Rapturous delight in fact. Don't get me wrong, I've read some good books lately, but there is a difference between a book I love and a book I LOVE. I am quite positive that that probably didn't clear things up. Anybody know what I'm talking about? Maybe it's just a book-freak thing. Anyway, I was reading and this description of what Sara (the main character) calls "Splendid" sunsets reminded me of a picture I had come across the other day. I thought I would share it and another picture of sunset clouds with you all. The first picture is from Victoria last summer and the second one is from Halifax several years ago. I love sunsets. I'm a sucker for light and color so they are pretty much my ideal moments in time. I hope you enjoy these two as much as I do.

Prelude

Prelude

Margaret Avison

The passive comes to flower, perhaps

a first annunciation for the spirit

launched on its seasons.

The turning-point is morning:

now Budapest, now feathery

fields - where explorers' maps showed nothing -

now a crippled crofter's in his doorway

or the Scandinavians' by the sea.

Under the dry fence

gooseberries dangled on thin stems,

cottony grass buried the fence-posts, the

grainy dirt trickled with ants.

I smell bare knees again and summer's clouds.

Somebody's grandpa came

in shirt-sleeves, solid

and asymmetrical, rooting the word

'trunk', for a child, as right

for man or tree,.

He stood, and gnarled

silently, while he talked over our heads

to some invisible neighbour

we did not bother glancing up to see.

The honeycombing sun

opened and sealed us in

chambers and courts and crooked butteries,

cities of sense.

Tomes sag on the begrimed shelves

locking in light.

Most men would rather take it straight.

Nothing can contrive

accepting. Sparrows in the curbs

and ditch-litter at the

service-station crossroads

alike instruct, distract.

The stone lip of a flower,

the lowest, on the left side,

on the government building,

stares through a different sun.

I lean on the warm stone

and sense its coldness.

The palaces of sense are

patchy after years of hopeless upkeep,

taxes, institutional requisitioning:

a public charge, largely.

A woman with her hair

fixed like a corpse's

is closed like a bank's vault against

even the Sanhedrin of the ranged

windows and towering blocks.

Yet touched to pallor, she

knows day, abruptly,

as I, and the stone flower, abruptly,

suffer the cryptic change.

The turning point of morning, and the

unmerging child,

like the sadness of the summer trees,

assert their changelessness

out of this day-change.

Light, this discovering light, is a beginning

where many stillnesses

yearn, those we had long thought long dead

or our mere selves.

In the moment of held breath

the light takes shape:

now in Osiris, stepping

along the reedy shore of sunset where

stone skiffs manoeuvre through

wild grass and the dark water-gates;

now chipped among the textures of

the chrome, the celanese, the rough-cast plaster,

the stone flower , and my fingers resting on it;

in each at least light finds

one of its forms

and is:

even in the invisible neighbour,

periwigged, black, in hunting pinks,

or rinsing clouts beside the holy river,

who does not bother glancing up to see.

So, here is the story of this post. I had the whole thing typed up and ready to go last night, and then I previewed it and realized that the html was all wonky because the formatting on the poem was far from what it was supposed to be. I was way too tired to figure it out last night so I left it for today. Let me tell you, this is the post that would not format. But I think I finally have it how it is supposed to look. I've been reading Margaret Avison on a prof's recommendation and have to say that I really love her poetry. It's beautiful and full of phrases that are just so luxurious and wonderful. This photo, which is from the Butchart Gardens on Vancouver Island, is the kind of image that the first line "The passive comes to flower" evokes for me. Actually, I could go through this whole poem and come up with images at least for every stanza, if not for every line. Unfortunately, I don't have the exact pictures I want for all of it nor do I have the resources at the moment to get them. Maybe one day in the future I will be able to come back to this poem and put it together in photographs.

P.S. If you haven't watched The Young Victoria yet then you absolutely must. Truly incredible, beautiful film. I shall stop before I gush too much. Just go watch it. And then listen to some Schubert.

Snow Day

Yes, a snow day in May (sorry, I couldn't resist exploiting that particular rhyming opportunity). Apparently this morning was rather blizzard-like what with the continuing insane wind and the snow. I was asleep at that point, or at least trying very hard to sleep, so I only know this from what my mom told me and the fact that the world was completely white when I finally did drag myself out of bed. I had probably the worst sleep I've had in quite a while last night. It was pouring rain and incredibly windy which meant that the sound of pounding rain on my window woke me up about every half hour. And then around the time that stopped, the neighbours decided to run their truck for a very long time (which I understand in winter, but not any other time of the year), and by then my family was getting up and making noise. On the bright side one of my sweet cats came and slept on my bed with me all night. Normally I don't allow the cats into my room at night (due to the fact that they tend to wreak havoc with my possessions) and on the odd occassion that I do let one of them in they usually want out at 3 in the morning and wake me up with their meowing and scratching at the door. But it was like my kitty knew I was sick. She spent the afternoon on the couch with me and then ensconced herself on my bed around 11 and didn't leave until 6 in the morning (which is her breakfast time and she is rather fond of food). And she spent the afternoon today with me on the couch again. Such a good cat. On the bright side, despite my horrid rest, I am feeling better today. I mean, I still feel disgusting and flu-like, but markedly better. And after surviving a brush with H1N1 last November, this flu is like being whacked with a little baby wrecking ball instead of a really massive, taking-down-a-25-story-building kind of wrecking ball.

Needless to say, this whole being ill business meant that I didn't shower or change out my pjs today, much less wander around in the disgusting and entirely unseasonal weather taking pictures. I'm slightly sad about that since the snow is all wet and heavy. Perfect snowman snow. Pictures would have been fun. Anyway, these pictures are actually from Christmas a couple years ago. I went for a walk to the elementary school playground by my house on Christmas Day and the place was deserted. This is actually the school I went to from kindergarten to grade 6, so I've spent a lot of time on this playground. I'm willing to bet it would have looked relatively similar today. Well, minus the deserted part since I guess school is still in session. There is something wonderful about playgrounds. They always make me feel like a little kid. How cool would it be to take engagement photos in a playground? (yes there is a reason I am thinking about engagement photos, no it is not because I am engaged) I think my friends and I might have to visit some playgrounds this summer and take some photos. Sounds like fun.

Stop

I have been whallopped with a flu. Seriously inconvenient timing since I'm in the middle of job hunting. Apparently this is my body's way of forcing me to take a break or something. If the enforced break-taking could occur in a way that does not make me feel utterly disgusting and kind of like I'm dying I would appreciate it, but alas it is not to be.

Picture is from the train yard near my school. I'm going to crawl into bed now. Bleh.

In Progress

I love this picture. It's from the week I spent in Toronto last year. My friend and I were just walking along and passed this construction site. I stopped to take a picture because the bright pink and orange attracted me and then I noticed the purple doors (including one in the middle of the wall) and the cool looking "MA Imports" stencil thing. Anyway. She thought I was crazy for stopping and taking a random photo. Here is evidence to the contrary. How often do you see a construction site with that many colors? I think it is just great.

Construction seemed appropriate today for a few reasons. First, while driving to the grad ceremony my friend and I got stuck in a traffic jam becaue of construction on the freeway. It was ridiculous. We travelled 500m in 10 minutes. I could have walked faster. Fortunately we had left with plenty of time so we still got there early. Second, it was grad today. I've been to grad every year since I started at King's, but it's usually to perform with the choir. This year I was there because one of my roommates graduated. Plus there were a whole bunch of other people that I knew graduating. It was kind of weird. Just thinking about endings and beginnings and next steps and such. It's kind of frightening to think about leaving the safe bubble of school. I tend to overthink things though, so naturally I didn't end up just thinking about how weird it will be to not have some of these people around next year, or how weird and freaky it is that I will be graduating next year. No, I started thinking about how strange it is that the things that end are often the things you don't want to end while the things that go on endlessly are the things you would rather get rid of. Does that make any sense? In order to spare you all a trip into the strange realms of my mind I shall stop there. It's just interesting to think about beginnings and endings. This is a funny time in life. Everything always seems to be in transition. Everything is always under construction. At least for me it is.

Duckblossom

Tomorrow (well, I guess since it is 12.30am it is today) my dear roommate of three years graduates. I can't believe it has been that long already. In honor of this auspicious occasion, here is a photo of a bright pink gerber daisy. She loves both bright colors and gerbers so it seemed appropriate. I love how the flower is so bright that it almost seems to glow in the picture. In case you are wondering, the title of this post is not completely random. Second semester of our first year, I read The Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck. In the book, one of the pet names the main character has for his wife is "duckblossom". I found this hilarious and shared it with my roomie. She also thought it was ridiculous, and, because we both have a fondness for the absurd, we started calling each other "duckblossom" as a joke. Somehow it stuck and three years later we are still calling each other that. It makes me happy. I'm so glad she is back for the education after degree next year. It would just be too weird to not have her around.