far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Sunday, November 03, 2002

I have the feeling that deer hunting season commenced today -- I walked outside about an hour ago, the hills were alive with the sound of gunshots. Don't think I'll be taking many walks in the woods in the coming days.

It's a beautiful early winter's Sunday, balancing out yesterday's nippy gray Saturday. Snow fell on and off during most of yesterday morning -- not my preferred early-November weather, but real damn pretty, with little accumulation. The nights here have been authentically cold, temperatures dropping to the mid-teens, the overnight temperature in the house also drifting down to genuinely cool levels. Which suits me just fine, actually -- I love sleeping under warm, thick covers, the air in the room nice and cool. I've gotten into a pattern of waking up on those cool mornings, pulling on warm clothes, heading downstairs to clean out the ashes from the previous day's coal fire, a process which would goes on for a bit as I sift through the ashes to take out the bits of unburned coal (the 'clinkers,' my downhill neighbor Mo calls 'em) and toss them back into the stove as a foundation for the coming day's load. Go outside, dump the ashes into a bucket, pick up some wood to start a fire with, build that, get it going. Once that's well underway and most of the wood's been reduced to embers, coal gets added, two or three shovelfuls at a time. Which gradually builds up a good bed of hot, cherry-red coals, the kind that gets the stove cranking out serious, concentrated heat.

Not as much fun as being able to walk outside into summer sunlight in shorts and t-shirt, but it'll do. It does feel good to head out into the cold for a while, then return to a warm living space, the northern Vermont landscape doing its thing outside every window.

And it's deer-hunting season. Not my kind of activity, but part of life's fabric up here. There have been one or two hunting seasons during the past few weeks, the more recent being deer bow-hunting season, nowhere near as popular or noisy as rifle season. And now everyone gets to bring their rifles everywhere they drive in the hope they'll stumble across some deer in a field. Trucks cruise slowly up and down country roads, looking for something legitimate to let loose a few shots at, the more serious hunters find a spot in the woods to settle down and wait for a likely source of meat (or antlers) to happen by. Me, I'll watch 'em all and write about 'em here.

And the days will roll on.

****************

Went to see a French film this afternoon, a kickass concoction called "Read My Lips." The scuttlebutt is that this film is already slated for an American remake. It's HIGHLY unlikely they'll improve on the original -- if you can check this one out, do it.

****************

Cribbed from www.foxvox.org (w/ thanks to Kristen):

"What would it be like if you lived each day, each breath, as a work of art in progress? Imagine that you are a Masterpiece unfolding, every second of every day, a work of art taking form with every breath."
-- Thomas Crum




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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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