Author Archives for keirartworks

Pen like a whip

August 1, 2012

On January 10, 1983 Ken writes, Today is Mike’s birthday… and all the while the Benedictine monks chant “kyrie eleison” in the background and I can’t get Psalm 51 out of my brain nor the Spanish Civil war… Ken wrote pages and pages for years and years.  In another letter he quotes bits from Ken Kuhl […]

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Junk?

July 19, 2012

I’m about to leave for a long-awaited trip to Lake Superior.  We’ll take the kayaks, a lovely new tent & good camping gear (the best wedding presents ever); the bikes, some tomatoes from the garden since the plants are now overflowing, books, cameras, and my own cluttered mind, in hopes that the latter can be […]

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I LOVE our Youth Orchestra.

July 18, 2012

I’ve seen it time and again, but it never fails to restore my faith in humanity:  if you gather smart, hardworking teens together under a conductor every week with their chosen instruments and good music to play, magical things happen.  Add 40 degree heat inside the church, a six-week hiatus from playing and a good […]

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before the rain that ends the drought

July 14, 2012

The cicadas sing their doppler song of midsummer. We are dry as long-dead bones pressed into rock and exposed to a thousand years of sun.  Grass is brown, frogs huddle under leaves in watered gardens to protect their skins from shriveling.  You can hear wood and metal expand in the 10 am heat.  The sky […]

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Life is good.

July 13, 2012

What a rich world we are in here. I’m surrounded by colour and flavour and scent, birdsong, squirrel screeching and leaves describing the breeze. Internally too – three new large creative projects on the go – fabric art, an installation/ performance art piece on the value, history and beauty of hand tools, and a new […]

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The Great, Resounding Green

June 19, 2012

…trees like green walls out every window, on every floor.  This happened suddenly, when the ash leaves opened – about 3 weeks ago.  Now the air tastes still and green and humid-heavy, builds in a dark blustering crash to thundering rain on our metal roof, then abates and burns with full sun again.  Even the […]

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sandpaper language therapy

May 17, 2012

six am &  bright outside, as we approach midsummer.  It is beautiful, yes.  There are birds, yes.  I will garden this morning, yes.  But not now, damnit. I am distracted by a nagging, irritating thorn that will burrow in deeper unless I pluck it out.  Immediately. As of this past Thursday when my job was […]

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Tree Season

April 28, 2012

Every year my family plants well over 100 trees – some at our farm (we’re reclaiming a field that was cleared for haying many many years ago), more at Mom and Dad’s property north of Annan, more at our house in Kemble. It’s a grand feeling, to pick up these wee treasures at the Grey […]

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Snow in April

April 24, 2012

I Love it! Here’s my friend Lynda’s picture of 1.5 feet of wet snow in Chatsworth, where they cancelled the school buses this morning. That’s 15 miles from here. One of the reasons we all live here is that WE NEVER KNOW WHAT’S COMING! And we’re better for it. Life is NEVER dull.

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Reflections in Cordwood

April 20, 2012

It’s as good a time as any for reflection. 6am, still dark outside in the northern hemisphere. I sit at the downstairs table beside a pinging wood stove.  It’s beaming heat onto the cat, who’s a puddle of contentment. We began this house project in 2006 with the enthusiasm and energy of young saplings reaching […]

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