Tagged With: laugh

and yet,

November 19, 2020

This rain’s falling hard, straight down. Even so, there’s a reassuring line of red sunfire on the horizon just now; the sun rises warm above bruised clouds. I’ve been sifting through headlines to check the people barometer, which reads just like the morning sky: heavy and bruised with some pockets of humour (a photoshopped Rudy […]

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Snowfall, December 2016.

December 8, 2016

A twenty degree angle, up from the east to the west.  After 36 hours of fierce but invisible wind, the snow has begun.  I’m relieved. ah, this year, this year. As I would with child coming down from his destructive tantrum, I want to dose this year with a well-laced hot toddy and tuck it firmly into […]

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Vivaldi at August’s end

August 30, 2015

Summer grows into Autumn. In two weeks I play cello for these, and for Gloria and the Oboe Concerto in F (more info here); it’s good to have such a soundtrack to live and work by.  Thank you, Vivaldi, for composing this music 300 years ago. I listen to II mvt of the Oboe concerto as […]

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Follow the loose rein

March 15, 2014

I stood grinning on a hill in the spring wind without the protection of my long winter coat and smelled the turning of the planet towards the sun. This Titanic winter season has run amok of the inevitable.  As did the Titans when banished to the underworld and the unsinkable ship when torn by an […]

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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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