Tagged With: cello

sitting bones

December 7, 2013

This morning’s cold has made the rain weightless.  As I watch from my third floor window I can feel the pull and flow of ocean, save that it’s air – currents made visible by tiny crystals of frozen water.  The north wind, playing. My walk at dawn was full of the promise of this; I’m […]

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Saturday morning, 4am

November 2, 2013

Yesterday was requiem day as I worked in the studio, which seemed fitting, somehow.  Every layer of grief and joy is expressed and exposed in them – the Mozart, the Brahms, the Faure, the Rutter.  Outside my windows there raged a storm that tore hydro lines and uprooted trees – for a while my phone […]

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Monday, 6am

August 26, 2013

The high frequency sound of my own mind woke me two hours ago. July 2013 is finished, incredibly.  So many things stuffed into a month, and June was only last week.  August will also finish in one week – 2013’s August of sleep-deprived days, 2060 kilometer weeks, lousy cash-flow, last suppers, Pearson Airport, and cello […]

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green gathers under

March 23, 2013

The morning is still still and grey weighed down by two feet of spring snow.  Even the sky is heavy.  The birds do their best to lighten things up but we have no warm welcome for them this year after the long flight north.  Just heavy grey, heavy snow, covered in old rabbit tracks. It […]

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Vigil, crack, restore

December 5, 2012

It’s a mighty fine tunnel we’ve just got through. A storm on Saturn in 2011. This already happened, and now we see it. Why do I find that comforting? I am later in the day after the day of find my head get to town rehearse find-a-piano rehearse perform rehearse perform perform so-grateful-for-good-friends enriched pleased […]

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in the dark of the moon

October 16, 2012

The clouds are pale indigo-violet, then a blustery bruised grey shot through with long warm lines of golden sunlight  and rich blue – this sets the red reds and the yellow yellows and the living greens in brilliant, stop-in-your-tracks collaboration.  I feel as though I’m watching the gods at play in a game where they […]

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Ball joints, Rotary & Equinox

September 24, 2012

There’s a loose ball joint on the car’s right front wheel.  So get it fixed asap; meanwhile go slowly over bumps.  Somehow I have a feeling this has broader application than just the car. My 16-year-old kid has been chosen as the lead Owen Sound candidate for a Rotary International Youth Exchange (11 months long) […]

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the joy of stupid

September 1, 2012

I awoke into one syllable: Um. And then another: Agh! What day is it? Saturday. Um? holiday weekend; shoes to kid for 9am, studio; funeral at 2pm; kayak & good, time at home Where am I? Full Moon.  You are in a full moon. Um. And then I remembered how much rich, satisfying fun I […]

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Enemy lines

August 3, 2012

The struggle for six hours daily to make fingers move at lightning speed, and in the balance of the day to re-shape one’s mind into a vast reservoir of history, style and technique, impress the right teachers and build the pedigrees that could make all the difference in earning potential  – this felt, to my […]

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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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