Okay, this is it. Where I can be found in Cyberspace, should anyone be looking. In Realspace, I'm surrounded by mountains that often look purple. Mountains, as in those stoic granite guardians that rise above all the trials of the day, assuming your day has trials, and sooner or later, most of them do. So let this be the place I go with poetry news. With poems; ones I've written or ones I like. With the occasional rant, for good measure. But no whining. Absolutely no whining.
Linda Lee Crosfield has been interested in words ever since she can remember. She writes a little of this, a little of that, not much of anything most of the time, but then just when you least expect it, out pops a line!
But enough about her...
Apologies to anyone who's been looking for updates here. Internet deficiencies made it difficult to post pictures, and if I didn't post pictures I'd have to write more, and that would never do!
When last I wrote we were on Fogo Island where we ended up spending four nights and became even more enchanted with Newfoundland than we already were.
Finding time to write on a blustery day
Gros Morne National Park
We spent a couple of night's in Winterton, before heading south to Heart's Content, Heart's Desire, Heart's Delight.
We came upon this Mini Village, currently comprising a working lighthouse, a powerhouse, a church and a school set in perfect proportion against a hill. A typed note protected from the weather by a plastic bag explained that more buildings are in the works: "All these current non-present replicas will be added sometime in the near future."
Labrador
Cabot Trail, Cape Breton Island
In Halifax, we hung with a bunch of old friends. Here's Pam and me, on the tracks.
Ted was made an honorary girl for the night.
Confederation Bridge, which we crossed from PEI to New Brunswick.
In Montreal, we went for a ride on the Metro.
We picked up bagels from at La Maison du Bagel on St. Viateur for a picnic lunch at Beaver Lake.
On to Cobourg, where we got to glue stuff and hang out with Stuart and Laurie.
In Toronto, Doug and Ted take the Bug for a drive.
Perogy Cat, our faithful companion on this trip, comes to no good with P and D's knife holder, known as "The Ex".
And so we continue to wend our way through Newfoundland. We've been here...(consults calendar, time is getting quite sketchy; we've been on the road for three weeks now) for 12 days now and we're getting quite unwound, as it were. Right now we're in Fogo and the wind is building and building and there's some rain. Ted's gone out to wander in it, to look at waves and rocks and things. I'm reveling in having a day to do things like this.
Here are some photos of our latest adventures.
After an unremarkable crossing from North Sydney to Argentia, we stopped in St. Bride's for a couple of days. This cross is in the cemetery there.
I came down with a cold, but managed to play a game of mini-golf with Ted. We've been promising each other we were going to do this since before we were married. Cold or not, it was a draw!
When we hit the road again, we stopped in a place called Port Lance (someone had mentioned it at dinner the night before).
We decided to go to Cape Race, where the first SOS from the Titanic was received. On the way in we drove through the Mistaken Point Ecological Reserve. It was kind of like showing up for an exam not having studied. We knew the rocks were something special, but found out more about them after the fact. Fossils abound, apparently, and you can sense it.
Apparently the fishing is good in the little brooks and ponds. Brown trout.
One of the many things you can do with rocks.
Ted had a birthday in Brigus, and we went for dinner in a place called Cupid (the town, not the restaurant). Out of 11 people dining, FOUR were celebrating their birthdays! (The wall hanging to the left of him reads, 'Mother ALWAYS knows best!')
The beautiful little town of Brigus.
Ducks in Brigus.
Obligatory tourist shot.
The beautiful little town of Dildo.
St. John's—we spent a night there, horrified to find ourselves back in city/traffic/rat race. But there was a good 2nd hand book store where I hit the poetry section and said hey to a few old friends. There's Stuart Ross, disguised as Farmer Gloomy!
"A Time", statue in St. John's.
Bit of a breeze!
We figured with the winds you get here there were bound to be windmills somewhere, and here they are, set off by a cross in the cemetery (can you tell I love cemeteries?) near Aquaforte.
Bible beams over Bonavista.
Pond in sunset, near Bonavista.
Near Bonavista. Not a good spot for those of us with issues about height!
Newfoundland sunset.
The de-tourists having a tourist moment on board the replica of the Matthew in Bonavista. John Cabot sailed over from England in 1497 and said, "Buena vista!" The ship is so small!
Steps leading to view of one of the ends of the world, according to the Flat Earth Society people.
Unexpected art, everywhere you look.
Stages.
And that's it for today. We're off to admire some more waves and things. What do I think about Newfoundland? Well, I told somebody yesterday that if I couldn't live in B.C., I could live here.
On Saturday, September 12, 2009, Thistledowne is playing at the Vallican Whole! If you're in the vicinity, it's going to be a great show, and if it isn't I think you get to eat them!
Vallican Whole Community Centre 3762 Little Slocan River Road Vallican, Slocan Valley (250) 226-7957
Doors/drinks/goodies at 7 pm
Concert at 8 pm
Advance tickets $12 at Jennie's Books in Winlaw, Eddy Music in Nelson, or online at www.aspenswitzer.com
Tickets at the door are $15
They're just back from playing the Salmon Arm Roots and Blues Festival, The Old Fire Hall in Rossland, and the Idlewild Festival in Cranbrook. We saw them the night before we left and it was a fantastic show. (Sorry for darkness if picture; it's from the Rossland show). Don't miss it, and if you wanted to give my boy the minstrel a hug from his old Mom who wishes she could be there, that would be okay!
§
The DaD-aDa-DaD Tour is in full swing. Two weeks on the road and we're still speaking!
This morning we went into a little restaurant in St. Bride's, Newfoundland for breakfast.
"Is it too early for fish chowder?" I asked.
"It's never too early for chowder," was the reply.
It's late, I'm fighting a cold and need to go to bed, but first, here are a few pictures to get you up to speed.
The morning we left Leanne came over. She's off on big adventures, too, so it'll be a while before we get together again.
Sparwood, BC, boasts having the world's largest dump truck!
We stuck close to the border going through the Prairies. Only got onto the Trans-Canada when we absolutely had to, near Winnipeg.
Manitoba = sunflowers!
Outside Thunder Bay we stopped at the Terry Fox memorial.
Some of the, um, entertaining signage we saw in Nova Scotia.
At last!
We went to Glace Bay, Nova Scotia, and visited the Miners Museum where you get to see what it's like to go underground in a coal mine. There goes Ted, on the right. You really do have to bend over because the ceiling's so low. More than a little creepy. More than a little awe-inspiring.
Our guide, Sheldon Gouthro, who's a retired miner, kept us mesmerized with his stories.
Chowing down before heading to the Newfoundland ferry.
Two more sleeps and we're out of here! But first, come one, come all to the Old Fire Hall in Rossland (BC) for 8 PM this Thursday, August 20, 'cause Aspen Switzer and Thistledowne are going to ring your chimes.
You got your Aspen:
You got your Jessa:
You got your Jesse:
only he's looking like this these days:
Put 'em together and you got your Thistledowne:
Back together for limited engagements this summer. Rossland. Old Fire Hall. 8PM. Thursday, the 20th. Like, tomorrow, at this typing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And what of the DaD-aDa-DaD Tour? How is that coming along? Well, they started to pack the car. And then they unpacked it, because they both know they tend to take waaaaay too much stuff when they travel. But there's stuff like footwear. He-of-the-One-Foot doesn't get that She-of-Two-Feet needs a bit of a variety. But that variety comes with a bulky price tag.
She'll wear sandals to start (it's gone hot again), but what does she wear when the weather cracks, as it inevitably must?
Sensible walking shoes. And when it gets cold? Boots, warm, with good grips, somewhat water-resistant —once Ucluelet's Wild Pacific Trail proved just how un-waterproof they are, but there was a bit of a wild Pacific storm at the time.
Actual rain boots, to go with the rain gear she found cowering in a closet this evening. Bulky. But necessary. Always leave room for peace of mind.
And what, you may be wondering, is the DaD-aDa-DaD Tour?
Take one determinably footloose and wanting to be fancy-free couple (aka He and She). Add a fuel-respecting vehicle (Heidi the Hybrid*). Throw in a couple of months freed up for moseying across the country and back. What've you got?
A DaD-aDa-DaD Tour.
Meet He and She, as taken by our talented photo-taker/actress/all-round-great granddaughter, Amber:
He and She were driving somewhere a few weeks ago. She was window-gazing. He was chattering.
She: So we're going to drive all the way to Newfoundland like this?
He: Yep. Day after day after day.
She: (muttering) Day after day after day after day after day...
We figure it'll take nine days of driving to reach North Sydney (from southeastern BC), and we have a ferry booked for early September to take us to Argentia.
And we're supposed to be out of here in about two weeks! There are notes to leave for the house-sitter. Myriad loose ends to tie up. A book project to finish (about 1/4 done). And still lots of summer-related partying, and we haven't even packed yet, never mind decided what we really need to take. And August postcard poems to write (and receive! I've had about half a dozen, so far, and they're great!). And I'm even doing the 3:15 Experiment again this year, having taken last year off due to a completely fucked-up sleep schedule. (Thank you, Merry Menopause.)
When you're counting down, it all counts.
DaD-aDa-DaD 2009. We've both been wanting to do this for eons. He did it once before, only from Vancouver, with young children and a dog and a long-suffering then-wife. I've driven as far as Toronto from here, and that was in 1976. It's a road trip. It's a patriotic (ad)venture. It's us!
Of course, I'm sure, at times, it'll be a reality show in a car (and you know what reality shows can be like). She will be trying to write a poem. He will be trying to figure out how far they should go tonight. They both (separate cameras, of course) remember when that used to mean something else entirely.
If/when I get a chance, I'll be updating this. And if you're on our route, you just might be hearing from us in person.
Let the countdown begin!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *oh yes, the Honda Civic Hybrid. Love the car, hate the weird little ads that come up if you surf on over to CTV.ca (only if you want to; I'm not supplying the link) for a little news. "Firefighters rewarded for saving Sikh holy book" was what I went there to read, but first I had to watch little swirling images that proclaimed Civic 11 and proffered attestations such as—Canada's best-selling car for 11 years—and logo (I think there's a more precise word for one that's realized in chrome, but I can't remember what it is) and tiny red maple leaves and finally, the car itself, twirling slowly, just above the first paragraph of the story I wanted to read. The whole thing didn't last longer than about 5 seconds, maybe, but man, was it annoying! Just sayin'.
I find I get a lot of my news online now. The switch-over, for me, was the start of the West Kelowna fires. After a bit of digging and delving I discovered that some of the most up-to-date info was given me via Twitter. The first one—Glenrosa— began on a Saturday afternoon (July 18th) and just try and get decent TV coverage about something like that on a Saturday.
is back in BC, playing a few gigs with her trio, Thistledowne. Today, they played Kelowna Arts and Music, aka "Summer in the City".
Thistledowne is Aspen, with Jessa Koerber on keyboards and vocals (you really want to hear her bust loose), and Jesse Lee on guitar, bass, and vocals.
Next, they'll be in Salmon Arm for Roots and Blues, August 14-15. This is what it says about them on the website:
Aspen Switzer’s voice will stop you in your tracks. Filled with longing and an ethereal yet grounded quality, it is powerful, subtle, pure and haunting. Aspen is accompanied by Jessa Koerber on keyboards and mandolin and Jesse Lee on guitar and bass. The trio adds seamless harmonies for a full and luxurious sound, balancing the charm and warmth of old time music with the contemporary.
Aspen Switzer and Thistledowne are playing Idlewild Festival, held in the park of the same name, in Cranbrook, August 22.
And heads-up—here's another date for Kootenay Thistledowne fans: Saturday, September 12, they'll be at the Vallican Whole in Winlaw. (Well, Vallican, actually.) Time and money to be advised. The Whole is a great venue for a performance like these three will put on. Don't miss it. Put it on your calendars!
Here they are, playing a house gig last year,
only they'll look a little different this year as Jesse, who also plays bass in a reggae band, Brian Rosen and the WhatNow, grew his hair.
And now, the saga of the jackets. One was left here after Wendy Morton's workshop a couple of weeks ago. This past Friday, Nanaimo poet and one of the instigators of that city's very popular WordStorm monthy readings, Cindy Shantz, and her husband found themselves in Castlegar and dropped in for a visit. (We love it when that happens.) While they were here they got a tour of Ted's shop.
After they'd left, another jacket appeared. Now there were two.
When she discovered hers was missing, Cindy sent me the following,
Oh to be abandoned in Castlegar today, surrounded by other jackets left in the same way. It seems our poet owners have such random minds that we are left behind to wonder when our owners we will see.
to which I replied:
I love it when my poet friends drop in to shoot the breeze. We laugh and look at fonts and things and then we go climb trees. And when they go, they're sure to leave an unexpected treat, a book of aphorisms, perhaps, or slippers for my feet, a hat of many colours or a picture for my wall... I just wish they'd stop leaving clothes that don't fit 'cause they're small.
I'm happy to report that both jackets have been returned to their rightful owners (assuming Canada Post gets it right).
Pyjama parties are still the best! My writing group disbands for the summer, citing too many interruptions (usually in the form of very welcome company and lots of outdoor parties as this season is all too short) to carry on, but this weekend five of us managed to get together in New Denver for a potluck dinner,
a walk, breakfast when Panini's opened, buying the odd thing at the market.
Ran into Ross Klatte and his wife, April, just as we were leaving. It was full-on summer in New Denver. A bit of the main street was blocked off for what was purportedly an antique market but there were people selling paintings and dresses, whirly-gigs and soaps, and all manner of books as well.
New Denver is nothing if not accommodating. You can figure out how far you are from just about anywhere!
These shoes were outside the Hidden Garden Gallery where several of Judy Wapp's latest photocollage concoctions are on display.
There are some lovely poems in this collection. Here's one I like very much.
Luminous
You made yourself invisible— a lace moth trapped in agate a fugitive ray of light in a house of glass—
holding your breath against the world cracks. But then I saw you wake from your spell—
visible as song on the spring air, luminous as sun on a snowdrift—
a beauty so ordinary I almost missed it.
I was sorry to miss Art's launch last month. It was one of those days when I had to go to Nelson twice and the launch would have meant a third trip, and we had company who'd just pulled in. But thanks to the wonders of YouTube, here he is, reading because I am empty, one of the poems in his new book.
I met Wendy several years ago at a writers' conference/festival/shindig in Salmon Arm. My friend, Heather, and I were sitting, probably enjoying a beer (or a coffee, depending on what time of day it was), when Wendy came by with her parasol.
"You're wearing a Bling," we said, allowing as how we knew the person who made them (Sandy Korman, and they're available at a number of places, including the Kootenay Gallery, across from the airport in Castlegar).
Heather was wearing one, too, which prompted a lovely conversation about blings, the Kootenays, writing, the lovely day it was, poetry, and so on.
Cut to about three years ago, when I went to one of Patrick Lane's Glenairley poetry weekends, organized by Wendy. We became friends, and when she had to come to the Koots on business, she stayed in Ootischenia and gave a talk about how we can all get what we want if we just go at it in the right way, to a group of ready-to-be-inspired writers and friends of writers from the area.
Just as everyone was arriving, this double rainbow appeared in the back yard, a poetic omen if ever I saw one!
Somewhere around twenty people showed up (not bad, given that it was short notice and middle of the week).
Wendy talked about how she's managed to garner financial and/or moral support for the business of poetry, based on her memoir, Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast (link takes you to a review by Yvonne Blomer in The Antigonish Review), a book that should be a must-read for any poet seeking book publication who is uncomfortable with the prospect of having to promote it. She also read poems, including some from What Were Their Dreams, her new book from Black Moss Press, and talked about Random Acts of Poetry, a project she initiated in 2004.
Thanks to Wendy, for ALL she does for poetry. As she says, it is "the shortest distance between two hearts".
Here's one of her poems, to be published in "Tears, the Same Music", a chapbook of poetry written at the March 2009 retreat, currently in production from Leaf Press.
ONCE A MAN FROM JAPAN
played the horse head violin on the cliff above the Strait. Full moon. Today, snow. The Strait weeping green; a grieving wind off the Pacific. I’m thinking of his widow in Osaka who took her husband’s ashes to the shore. Gave them to the wind. She chanted, sang her grief. I walk into the wind. It tastes of salt and ash. Today, even the kelp sings.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you're at all interested in the way Canadian poetry evolved in the sixties, this is worth a look—bill bissett and bp nichol in a 60's interview with Phyllis Webb. (I think it's 1966, but now I can't find where I read/heard that. Phyllis' hair looks like 1966, that's for sure.)
Here's bill, at the Shuswap Lake International Writers' Festival in 2005.
And finally, take a look at Ontario poet Conrad DiDiodato's brand new poetry review blog, Word-Dreamer: Poetics.
Posts
