these days

these days, it's been getting cold, prompting us to pull down the wool blankets and exchange the cotton sheets for flannel. ever since our mattress warranty claim was settled and we got the brand new oh-so luxurious replacement mattress, we've been spending A LOT of time in bed. we climb in early at night, where we finish our days out together, and i stay in bed as long as possible in the morning after andrew leaves for work, drinking coffee and starting work from beneath the layers of blankets as i snuggle with the animals. i swear that they conspire to keep me there.

these days, i've been doing my work from the dining room table (when i'm not in bed, that is). it's a large, unfinished pine wood space overlooking the kitchen and beside the sliding balcony doors that look out onto the backyard. i draw the curtains to let the light in and i draw them to shut out the dark. the heavy cotton floral curtains given to us from my wonderful mother-in-law. they are like an embodiment of her: traditional with a modern flair, rustic, whimsy, beautiful, spirited. being in their company makes me feel loved, safe, and ever-inspired. 

these days, i have been focusing almost single-mindedly on my dissertation project (almost, because there are of course endless distractions that keep me from absolute devotion to my work and thus from full productivity). i find my mind wandering, dreaming, and thinking about all the things. 

These days I seem to think a lot
About the things that I forgot to do
And all the times I had the chance to.

(Nico, "These Days")

i spread my projects and desires across the surface of the wood table from which i work, but even as i actively so so - all day, every day, day in & day out - there are always things i never get to. i drink cups of lady grey tea and stage still lives. i play with the cats and take their portraits. i collect books for research and books for pleasure, for moments of rapture and escape, for moments often overlooked or forgotten. i am distracted by my surroundings; in a room of my own.

these days, i muse about having a real digital SLR camera, but for now i make do with my old Nikon point-and-shoot, my iPhone, and the brilliant editing software designed by Visual Supply Co.

portraits of the majestic, stoic, and ever-handsome, Dr. Hunter S. Thomcat. he's been a little displeased that Glasgow has been stealing all the attention here lately. he's also developed some slight attitude problems adjusting to the new kitten (jealous? inconceivable!), so i thought i would give him a prominent spot here. he has been such a central part of our lives over the past six years, he really does deserve it.

the joys of adopting a young kitten: they're ever-so sweet but also full of SO MUCH TROUBLE. introducing, for the first time, Little Miss Virginia Woolf. she's slowly finding her place in the family and even gets to participate in group snuggles in the morning now.

this week i posted about the early morning and my new relationship to it. as difficult as it can be to get out of bed some mornings, the beauty that awaits is always worth it. yesterday morning's frost was truly exquisite, making the whole yard glow with a white frosted mist warmed by the golden sun.

still lives:

1. andrew has been bringing home lots of moose antler sheds from the bush lately, adding to our ever-growing collection. this particular white-tailed deer skull and antlers is one that we brought back from Alberta two years ago. it has been hanging around the past couple weeks waiting for us to hang it on the wall, but i have been enjoying its company.

2. sweet little Herriott Grace cake flags leftover from our wedding + a gorgeous knitted short-sleeve shirt, made in Canada, that i recently thrifted.

3. lady grey tea in one of my favourite vintage teacups and an old teapot from my Nana. perfection.

collected works:

1. good night, day: modern & minimalist knitting patterns, by tara-lynn morrison. first edition.
2. A Pictorial History of Wilderness, poems by Laressa Dickey & published by MIEL.
3. Penguin Books "Great Ideas" edition of Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own.
4. The Anatomy of Clay, poems by Gillian Sze.
5. issue no.1 of Sad Girls, a lovely little illustrated zine made by girls who make things and have lots of feelings.
6. A Guide to the Northwest Territory, poems by Josh Wallaert, also from MIEL.

collected works no.2 (on hysteria):

1. Aura Hysterica: Les exercises de la passion (1992), an artist's book by Montreal artist Nicole Jolicoeur.
2. Georges Didi-Huberman's The Invention of Hysteria: Charcot and the Photographic Iconography of the Salpêtrière.
3. The Hysterical Alphabet, text by Terri Kapsalis with drawings by Gina Litherland.
4. Nicole Jolicoeur's Traité de la perfection (1996).

transitions

while i savour the sultry heat, sun-filled days and long nights of summer, autumn is my favourite season. it is a season of transitions, preparations, harvests, layers, and pigments; of life, death, and decay. having lived in the city for nine years before moving to the country full-time this past June, i always found that autumn would come and go so quickly, almost without notice, at least not of all its nuances. trees are not in their natural habitat in the city and almost all urban trees are diseased, so i never got to experience the full splendour of fall's colours and subtle changes. this year, however, i was able to intimately track those changes over the course of five or six weeks every time i took glasgow for a walk in a nearby forested area we call "the cross," from first fall to first frost, from the only barely emerging yellows and oranges to the fiery and crimson reds at their peak, and finally to the fading of those colours into rusts, ochres, and browns. i watched the dark earth and lush greens of the forest floor first become peppered with sparsely fallen leaves, and then fully blanketed by a thick layer of still fresh scarlet maple leaves, which slowly faded into various shades of brown as they dried and decayed, becoming skeletons of their former full-bodied selves. only a handful of golden birch and poplar leaves remained, clinging to their branches, the limbs of oaks and maples reaching up toward the hallow sky like arteries. finally, early this week, the overnight's frost crystallized into tiny, intricate freckles of snow hugging patches of leaves, moss, rotting wood, and the ground around the bases of trees, starkly beautiful at the same time as they were a faint promise of what is to come. 

All photos taken from 01 October - 06 November 2012

life happens // new beginnings

when i was a kid i was in love with John Lennon. he was, and still is, my favourite Beatle (i always thought Paul was a pretty boy!). i would endlessly listen to a copy of the 1988 Imagine: John Lennon soundtrack that my uncle recorded for my mom on cassette, often on headphones as i was falling asleep at night. one summer i bought a pair of iconic John Lennon round-eye sunglasses on a trip to Wasaga Beach and wore them everyday, devoutly, for which my family aptly called me "little Lennon." when they wore out, i bought a new pair. as a teenager, i rekindled my childhood love for both the Beatles and more specifically for John, connecting more deeply with his lyrics, philosphy, and political actions. when assigned a portrait project in a highschool art class, i naturally chose to draw John. to this day, it is the only life-like portrait i have ever produced in charcoal, and one of which i am oddly proud (it still hangs framed in my mom's living room). i used a blurred and softened photo of the original drawing to make the above image. 

i always thought the song John wrote for his son Sean (Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)) was absolute magic, and that it contained what might be the best words of wisdom from a father: "life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." i always find myself returning to this simple but thoughtful life lesson: life happens, often when you least expect it, or are to busy to notice. 

i have been absent from this blog for the past couple months, and rather than feel bad about it, i have accepted that life happens. my plans for the month of November onwards exploded, in the face of, well, life. i left the city to be with andrew so that i could write my comprehensive exams in peace & quiet, but as soon as i arrived he had to take me to the hospital for a health issue that turned out to be physically and emotionally exhausting for both of us. i have been on sick leave ever since and am only now gearing up to return to my studies. while not under the best of circumstances, i think that my body was assertively telling me that i needed to take a break. so i did. for the first month, i did (almost) nothing and actually relaxed, nurturing my condition, but also my mind. i started to feel restless and anxious, and even guilty for doing so little and not being very productive, having to constantly remind myself to just take time. time to heal, to reflect, to endure, to calm, to slow down, to breathe, and to let things unfold. we didn't get internet installed until the week before Christmas (it is amazing how difficult getting service in a small town can be!), so i was literally disconnected and truly on my own while andrew spent long days at work in the backcountry. while it was lonely and incredibly frustrating at times, it was also refreshing and deeply nurturing. i put everything on pause, realizing that the pressure of the world "out there" could wait and would continue on without me. and really, what was i missing?

during this time, we also welcomed a new member to the family. meet Glasgow, our 11-month-old rescued dog, whom we believe to be a Shepherd/Saint Bernard or similar mix. actually having the time to spend with him when we first brought him home was so important (for all of us), and he has already changed our lives in innumerable and immeasuable ways. we are training him to be a bush dog so that andrew can take him to work in the forest.

and so, as the new year begins (although it has been somewhat delayed for me due to a stubborn and irritating cold/flu), i truly feel that 2012 is going to be a good one. finally. i am looking forward to so many positive changes and opportunities for growth this year. re-uniting and moving back in with andrew by spring/early summer. transitioning to small-town life. getting married in August. planning a wedding. developing and focussing my small business and working hard to take it somewhere (look for changes in the coming months and possible re-branding, although i am still undecided...). completing my comps and diving into my own research. writing more. wasting time less, or redirecting some of my time & energy. discovering what kind of blogger i am and will be and moulding a proper place for this blog in my life. developing a realistic routine that i can actually stick to, which for me also means working hard to become a morning person. spending more time in the bush this summer. uncovering all the good local food producers and continuing to improve our sustainable living efforts. living a simple, balanced life, or as close to one as possible.

oh, and i joined twitter. 

i hope your 2012 is filled with wonder, love, & happiness. 

xo, sara