Monthly Archives: October 2013

A counting of blessings . . .

Skies blue enough to swim in, Fall sunshine, still warm but gentler now than summer’s pounding intensity.

   

Pumpkin, squash and indian corn; orange dominating, but highlighted in shades of yellow, cream and gold, with dashes of green for contrast – resonant with the gratitude of harvest. Farm-store feeding frenzy – the busiest day of the year; pies, pies and more pies – apple, blueberry, bumble-berry, pumpkin (of course) and more, flying from the shelves.

    

A fantasy of domed turrets from a Russian folk-tale beckons, resolving into fabulous, wooden Eastern Catholic church, St. Elias. Ukrainian folk-song, hauntingly wraps round me as I absorb the sense of shared thankfulness of the apple festival, of a place truly built to the glory of God.

Counting caterpillars as we walk (along with blessings), furry brown and orange, exuberance bursting from us, hearts full.

” Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue”, over a jewelled landscape; flying, flung free a while –  it is not difficult to relate to the thought of “touching the face of God”. (Read more)

   
   
  

Reflected reds, golds and greens; the shimmering of Aspens caressed by a warm breeze; an occasional flurry of yellow leaves, swirling like snow; a single splash of red, spiralling downward; cathedral columns, drawing the eye heavenward.

A perfect day for thanks-giving!

The Saturday of Thanksgiving Weekend, 2013

On laughter-silvered wings . . .

I never had any doubt that Paul could fly . . . !

Yesterday we made use of the second half of his Charity Auction present to himself, flying up and away over the autumn glory of the Hills of the Headwaters on the edge of Niagara escarpment near Brampton (to the north-west of Toronto). In what was really a brief pre-flying lesson, I thought he might take the controls for a short while.  In the end, the only thing he didn’t do was land the plane as there was a little turbulence. From taxi, to take-off, to climbing to cruising height and holding steady, banking round to return to Brampton Flight Centre, he did it all. Very impressive!

 

     

I’m also thinking he now has significant influence with ‘the clerk of the weather’; just as for our harbour cruise on his birthday, we had the most perfect sunny day. Magic! I got to sit in the back seat and take photos.

       
       
       
       

(Click on any image to enlarge and page through photos with brief descriptions.)

 

This poem was on the wall at Brampton Flight Centre. It captures so well the feeling of the day . . .

 

High Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air….

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
– Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

Nuit Blanche 2013

I seem often to hear people questioning the attraction of  Nuit Blanche.

For me there are two main strands.

One is a kind of sensory re-awakening. Each year there are many weird and wonderful happenings and just one or two pieces that really engage me at a deeper level, staying with me. But the overall impact heightens my experience of the everyday – leaves in water, light and shadow penetrating our home courtesy of a street light as we open the front door to a darkened room. It reminds me to see, to hear, to notice.

The other is the incredible openness of the crowd – a glorious diversity united in an ability to connect with childlike delight.

(You can see bigger versions of the photos in our gallery)