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What’s up, random autumnal thoughts.

Fall is doing it’s work:  the leaves are coming down, the wind rises…the fear of impending winter is in me but the smell of fall keeps me present to the beautiful melancholy of this season.   We’ve turned on the heat.   We had to bury our dog last week.  The saddest day of the year.   The ground was still soft enough to dig into.  We planted tulips over him.  There is still swiss chard poking it’s green in the back yard.

Stephen Harper is back in his seat, the election proves only that we need a better system for accurately representing the real opinions of the people.  Next up:  what will happen south of the border?

I am doing a lot of writing, working on the bicycle show, which has its next performance next weekend in Ottawa at the Storytelling Festival.  Reading and researching and writing like a mad woman.   I bought a crazy new guitar.  It hasn’t been initiated to the stage yet, but it will soon, since i’m having a mad love affair with it and have to show it to the world soon.   But now is the season of drinking tea and cooking new creative things in my home.

Had a predictably sleepless and music-filled weekend at the annual OCFF conference, great fun and so many new discoveries of wonderful music. Penguin Eggs has published my poem, “This One is For”, in their fall issue. Played a beautiful show at the Church of the Holy Trinity a couple weeks ago, the most wonderful acoustics of anywhere I’ve ever played.  That’s where the Cowboy Junkies recorded that first album – and no wonder.  I will organize another show here before long.

Off to keep writing things about bicycles, and drink a cup of coffee to ward off the increasingly skimpy temperatures.