November… 2017

there was snow up the mountain the other day.  elevation and wind.  it’s funny what the trees beckon for, but they do.  some leaves, still green holding on.  holding out.  others, graciously yellow and brown.  grateful for the rest, they lay glopped in prickly frost.  the biting torment blowing north south, i rounded east on saint-viateur to find a forgiving calm.  always being reminded of our smallness.  always being reminded of its bigness.  it’s a constant remembering and forgetting and remembering.  lost in my own thoughts of importance and then rattled into remembering.  i felt my heart pounding.  the cold is something the kid remembers.  wonderous.  the dreams that snow allow.  the fantasy of the nearly eternal sleep.  yes you rest.  and heal.  but you also secretly plot.  to come out the other end better.  more ready to love.  more ready to heed.  to recognize when to gently relax into the fury.  the cold packs a misery so perfect as to be uncaring of the skin to which it clings.  the mind is charitable.  having politely allowed me to forget what this darkness really means to bring.  but i’m beginning to feel ready.  i’m also going to try some sneaky defiance.  i’m going to hunker in studios and make music this winter.  so when the buds starts to sprout, i’ll have some greening peas to share.  i’m feeling excited.  i like this city’s undulations.  i’m a newbie.  and i’m being warned of a less than friendly winter ahead.  and cities have a way of testing your love.  or at least your affections.  am i the willing suitor or is it?  i guess that’s what makes it interesting.  double steeples and a mountain for climbing.  and all the age a building can stand to bare.  new songs.  new thoughts.  new reasons to celebrate.  new reminders to love and care.  to maybe even extend a little warmth to my own inner voices that i so often allow to speak to my softness with such unkindness.  as these days grow short let’s let our love grow long.  blessings from saint-urbain.  a southbound throughway…  that quiets by midnight and rages again at 6.  to the airplanes landing mostly east to west and to the street artists continuing the conversation in bold colour and lines.  thank you and see you out there.  i look forward to the sharing of our voices and hearts.  h.