Birch trees
I was all ready to take a big long walk down to Safeway and then to the mall. I needed tobacco from Safeway and I was going to pick up a good black pen from Wal Mart, one that doesn't run, so I can complete another drawing. Actually I bought 10 poster boards from there the other day for 5 bucks and I have resolved to keep drawing until all ten are complete. It kind of appeases the obsessive urges I am prone to.
Ready to go out the door I stop at the fridge and see a full pack of smokes sitting there. Oh yeah, Mik left that for me last night when she came and got the kids, late as usual but there were extenuating circumstances and I guess the smokes were meant to appease my dissatisfaction. Standing here looking at them sitting there on the fridge, I believe it worked. Now I don't have to go to Safeway, in fact I don't have to go out at all!
Funny how my brain looks for justification for such a lackadaisical approach to things. I will my feet out the door and start walking. It is snowing thick. Very thick, big fat flakes of snow. It blows, though it seems to come from everywhere. Three tall pine trees create lines of grass in the white ground where the shelter provides an edge for the snow to draw along. I stray off the road and stand beneath the trees, experiencing their warmth and the strength of their roots. Breathe in the moment walk slow, slow out to the stairs that wind up the hills of the old university grounds. Still a school around here, Selkirk College has most of it. The Christian School, uses the peak-roofed chapel for classes, and now have sectioned off, with fence, another part of this once bustling with energy hillside.
I cut through the rest of the school grounds here, pause at another flock of trees, gathered and keeping the snow at bay. I stand again within the shelter, here a cairn of rocks, a beer bottle, a nice little cove from prying eyes. I continue up the hill and onto the road above. I hear the creek. The weather has pushed its roar to a different sound among the trees. I walk to the edge. Sound swallows everything. The water carries on deep rushing conversations, about wild rolling experiences as single drops of water, now collected as mass, as gang of desperados, riding the landscape wherever the flow will go. Standing above on a small outcrop of birch trees I look down upon the vibrant creek, sensitive to balance, as if the yin squares into the yang, an adjusted frame, an image meant to maintain the creek's refrain.
Mundane, gray trees dull scenery everywhere, I turn to the birch. Beneath the layers, peeled back like paper, the heart of the tree bares an abstract dancer on a stage with veils and curtains translucent pirouette of shapes within unfolding forms, unwarned by where the imagination can go, left unchecked.
And the colour, the blood of the tree whose skin, ripped back, reveals fresh flesh, exposed now to elements it will heal under the glare of summer heat and sun to come. Curled, like useless memories, like stripping off abnormalities, from the data bank accessed for answers
Ready to go out the door I stop at the fridge and see a full pack of smokes sitting there. Oh yeah, Mik left that for me last night when she came and got the kids, late as usual but there were extenuating circumstances and I guess the smokes were meant to appease my dissatisfaction. Standing here looking at them sitting there on the fridge, I believe it worked. Now I don't have to go to Safeway, in fact I don't have to go out at all!
Funny how my brain looks for justification for such a lackadaisical approach to things. I will my feet out the door and start walking. It is snowing thick. Very thick, big fat flakes of snow. It blows, though it seems to come from everywhere. Three tall pine trees create lines of grass in the white ground where the shelter provides an edge for the snow to draw along. I stray off the road and stand beneath the trees, experiencing their warmth and the strength of their roots. Breathe in the moment walk slow, slow out to the stairs that wind up the hills of the old university grounds. Still a school around here, Selkirk College has most of it. The Christian School, uses the peak-roofed chapel for classes, and now have sectioned off, with fence, another part of this once bustling with energy hillside.
I cut through the rest of the school grounds here, pause at another flock of trees, gathered and keeping the snow at bay. I stand again within the shelter, here a cairn of rocks, a beer bottle, a nice little cove from prying eyes. I continue up the hill and onto the road above. I hear the creek. The weather has pushed its roar to a different sound among the trees. I walk to the edge. Sound swallows everything. The water carries on deep rushing conversations, about wild rolling experiences as single drops of water, now collected as mass, as gang of desperados, riding the landscape wherever the flow will go. Standing above on a small outcrop of birch trees I look down upon the vibrant creek, sensitive to balance, as if the yin squares into the yang, an adjusted frame, an image meant to maintain the creek's refrain.
Mundane, gray trees dull scenery everywhere, I turn to the birch. Beneath the layers, peeled back like paper, the heart of the tree bares an abstract dancer on a stage with veils and curtains translucent pirouette of shapes within unfolding forms, unwarned by where the imagination can go, left unchecked.
And the colour, the blood of the tree whose skin, ripped back, reveals fresh flesh, exposed now to elements it will heal under the glare of summer heat and sun to come. Curled, like useless memories, like stripping off abnormalities, from the data bank accessed for answers
posted by dave at 8:27 PM
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