All Things Early…

As with all things that arrive early, they start a pattern that nothing is able to change. 

Summer was early, starting with wildfires and quickly pressing on into a storm year. Once every four or so years the storms come to the prairie forged from the destructive fire of humanity’s insatiable appetite that destroyed the Boreal of the area, filling the dusty basin until the wildfire epidemic is doused. 

The temperatures have barely let up since May, but in the same way summer started out the gate before the gun had gone, now already harvest has begun. Apples falling, small but ripe from the trees; garden yields pushing on to the last stages; and even, the leaves on the first turning trees have tired, yellowed and begun their headlong plummet. The wind has shifted, ever so subtly, and we, being of the north, welcome the crispness like a well travelled friend returning to the hearth of our hearts. 

The light has begun to fade off, setting a little sharper, a little earlier. The rustle of the leaves had a very distinct sound in late summer, and it has begun very early this year. 

We can feel winter waiting, wild eyed, just beyond sight. She is always so hungry. I am always so keen to take her on. 

I would say, there was a song on my lips

But it was on my finger tips

My throat was hollow, toneless

I have plucked the wilderness

Out of the wild
Some things emerge slowly

The heart, once lumbering, has finally smiled. 

Today, in leu of life, I knit. Unlike my projection of three hours, the sleeves being stitched on and the neckline being knit took ALL day. Which is fine because I am flat out exhausted. Finally fighting my round of the cough everyone else had a few weeks back. Summer viruses. Great fun. 

But now all I have left is to seam the underside of the sleeves—tomorrow’s rainy day project. It which ever day is next to storm itself away. 

So close I got to slip it over my head for size. It needs to be blocked to let the stitches sit more flatly in parts but for the most part, I’m nearly there. And my neck seaming was so flawless I actually couldn’t find it until I flipped it inside out. So. Ya. I impressed myself. 


An Ode to Black Skies

The tranquil shades

Of tragedy—

Soft comes the night

Soft goes the light

A sharp slide of a sliver

Into the inner eye
I’ve forgotten more slow sunsets 

Then I’m likely to see now til then
Out comes the sunlight 

One last moment before the setting

How these storms make it blush

All those shades words won’t touch

That final lovely hush—

And again, black makes all the other colours shine

Summer Storms

I never tire of lightning on a dark cloudy night. 

Just to watch the rain pound down and watch the sheets billow & ripple across the electric black of night—thunder breaking open the skies, bouncing across the prairie floor. 

The Lightning silhouettes the thickness, a portrait painted of the midnight gripping, terrified, to the shaking trees of summer. 

Away slowly, those slipping rumbles. They tumble further and further, down the slow drip of night, drop by gentle drop—only to give one last low rumble—a flash—an echo—quiet—we all fall. 

The Last Stitches

I’m scared I’m going to mess this up.

Last stages of the Benedikta sweater. I have to attach the sleeves and begin the neckline. I wouldn’t be as scared if I had enough of my main colour yarn. But I don’t. And to special order it now would be so expensive. I’m literally fractionally off. No doubt a slight waste yarn issue. I have left over of the other three colours but, I’m not sure yet if I can bridge the gap in an esthetically pleasing way. If this doesn’t work, my next trip to the states in the late fall is the soonest I’ll be able to get the yarn meaning I can’t finish until then! 

My plan is: proceed regardless. And if it looks bad, special order the yarn and get it shipped to my In laws house and pick it up in November, then, unravel and reknit the last little bit. 

Guess we’ll see. 

Side note: Each block took an hour, totalling 44hrs of block work knitting. I’m guessing about 5 per sleeve, tatalling 10hrs. And another 5 for the lower trim. Will gauge the neckline will take 3 hrs. 

So over 60 hrs of knitting to make this baby. That’s a lot of work! Yowza! For sure. My largest project to date. This is why you only knit sweaters for yourself or for those who understand the magnitude of the work that goes into homemade garments. The yarn was one investment, but the time too! It’s a whole massive thing that I’m guessing only other knitters and fibre artists understand. No quick routes. No shortcuts. Nope. Every single stitch slowly slipped over and off each needle. Back and forth. Row upon row. 

Long Time Running

What a strange experience. The knowing of finality before it arrives. 

We all know our inevitable demise sits on the precipice of the future. But it is a strange slow agony to know a relit ice timeline to death. 

They opened with Little Bones. Thankfully I’ve seen them before so my other large ‘must see live’ of theirs, I’ve seen. But I was super honoured by being able to hear their new songs live as well. 

World Possesd By the Human Mind was in my mind after the show even tho it was played about half way through. They played Ocean Next which I was surprised by because it’s not a single, but I suppose it’s been determined it will be, and it was my favourite off the new album, and they killed it live. 

I think I (and everyone else) cried about six times. I’ve never cried that many times, or looked around to see so many people crying at a rock concert. Everyone’s hearts were a little broken as we saw Gord and his band mates rock out for all of us despite his terminal prognosis. He was a little weaker, thinner and less the crazy man he was, less pouncing around, but he was still the strange guy he always was, larger than life and a terrific performer.

 At the third row, it was pretty amazing look eye to eye with someone, to convey gratitude and wish strength to a band that gave us songs that are so ‘Canadian.’ That have the texture of prairie hostility and ocean angst that lies under our surface, that we battle during the long dark of winter and that we collapse into in certain moments just to let that odd placidity of acceptance, rise and surface. 

There probably won’t be a concert I see that will have the same sentimental value and as my husband and I swayed, arms wrapped around each other to Long Time Running, we thought about all the things that have us running in this life, death being the most inspiring thing to run from, and how our family faces this same cancerous nemesis that Gordie does, and sometimes you have to stop running, turn, and face these foreboding realities face on, letting the acceptance rise above the battle, to the terrifyingly calm surface. 

An Inconvenient Time

Life caresses open the scars; a more convenient time, one more ripe with regret. I ask, the strength of youth to return to my brittle bones. I’m a scarred warrior. Battle has bled me. Battle has ripped me wide and these stiffen, thick skin of regret tightening until every step is an agony. 

What have you done to me? 

I recall the face of the young child, unbattled, vibrant—a grin of eager success, unknowing of failure, of self doubt, of disappointment. She, she is the lovely one. The one I offered up on a platter of life. 

What am I, now, but a shadow of the light I once beamed? 

Yet you knew, and still you drew, the breath of me to you. 

Take the soul, battered with defeat, rip it from my memory. Help me smile again. Let all glimpses of haughtiness I’ve found trickle from their deep homes, just so I can taste within, the cool refresh of innocent victory, that sees how you have guided my right hand. Sever this left handed heart, and leave me whole in purity. 

Make all my life, an inconvenient time! 

So never, ever, is the time ripe with awaiting regret. So I’m never bled open in battle again. So I may not fail the one who saw the young girl, who sees her still. 

Man Machine Poem

So along with A World Possessed By the Human Mind, this is my favourite off the latest and last Hip album. 

Last time they were through they didn’t play Little Bones, so I’m looking forward to finally hearing that live. But all the classic big songs are on the set list too, and in really looking forward to the whole thing. One more day! 

Late July 2016

The rattle & hum of yet another afternoon storm… This summer has been full of so many gorgeous afternoon thunder boomers. Saves me watering the garden, as long as there’s now hail or tornadoes with it, it’s all fine by me.