January 31, 2013
Posted by jodi on January 31, 2013 at 10.43am
November 10, 2012
Found in a box of old newspapers, magazines and naval flags (?) given to me when my grandparents’ house was sold and emptied out: a London Free Press special supplement chronicling the massive blizzard that began on January 26, 1971 and raged for six days before people were finally able to get outdoors to begin digging out. Hundreds of cars were completely buried on the highway and kids were trapped in their schools. The area hit was (and still is) mostly rural and the people there are used to their fair share of snow, so they don’t call in the Canadian Forces for nothing (it’s not Toronto) (low blow?).
Below are a few images from the booklet. You can see scans of the whole thing in this flickr set.
Posted by jodi on November 10, 2012 at 7.27pm
October 16, 2012
On one of those brisk fall mornings where even though rain is falling, the light is the brightest, most clear light you see all year.
Taken with the Harinezumi digital.
Posted by jodi on October 16, 2012 at 11.19am
July 19, 2011
There is a smell being drawn in from outside by the bedroom window fan, a fresh and not-fresh, green brown slimy smell, like algae. Nerve endings buzz, high on cough syrup, and restless legs twist in the bed but don’t want to stand up and walk around, either. This is (hope) the last of several risings, sitting upright in the dark to suck on cough lozenges. The stomach rebels at the sickly sweetness of those, but the throat demands them. In the late afternoon the heat wave gave way to torrents of rain then curled in close again, holding that moisture, keeping it warm so that the only relief comes from stretching out bare feverish feet in front of a fan that sucks great algae stinking breaths from the hot wet outside. I feel like I’m living in the South again, where damp settles into houses and never goes away and things slowly rot and you don’t even notice the scent of mould in sheets, in clothes, in hair, in everything until you go away somewhere and open up your suitcase and the stench hits you and you wonder, is that what my life smells like?
It almost wouldn’t be a surprise at all to wake up and find the house overgrown with kudzu, like in a story. Or a dream.
Posted by jodi on July 19, 2011 at 3.29am
April 18, 2011
Snow in April is hardly unheard of in Southwestern Ontario, but way down here in the Sun Parlour we’re usually the only ones not getting it. So this is a nice surprise so long as it goes away quickly, right? I may have spoken too soon this morning when I told somebody I’d rather have half a metre of fresh new snow than one more day of those 65km/hr winds. It seems some of this snow is sticking.
On the forsythia:
On the rhubarb, garlic and chives (yes, they’re too close together, I KNOW; that rhubarb is moving this year, I promise):
On the tulips!
On the irises:
Posted by jodi on April 18, 2011 at 12.09pm
January 24, 2011
From the vantage point of the passenger seat. Or, as Peter put it, “is that so you can show the internet how helpful you are?”. (FYI when there is lots of snow I help. Today was not much snow).
Shot with the Harinezumi digital.
Posted by jodi on January 24, 2011 at 2.15pm
April 26, 2010
A busy and at times frustrating day, with too much emailing, too much running around, not enough progress, and a knitting machine showing up in the mail right at a time when it was impossible to drop everything and set it up and play with it RIGHT THEN. Started rainy and cold, turned to sunny and just on the cusp of warm enough for a t-shirt, then the winds rolled in like banshees.
Posted by jodi on April 26, 2010 at 8.53pm
April 9, 2010
Today was a day of keeping busy to stave off homesickness. It’s Peter’s birthday, and it’s been an awfully long time since we were apart on his birthday. It’s snowing again.
All of my student work is photographed, most of the marks are calculated, some of the feedback for seventy-six drawing and printmaking projects is typed up. Heading into All Work Mode to bust this out over the weekend. After that: Unicorns and Glitter!
Posted by jodi on April 9, 2010 at 10.53pm
March 22, 2010
The ice isn’t off the pond yet, but the snow person has long since disappeared.
Posted by jodi on March 22, 2010 at 6.12pm
March 12, 2010
When the ice has melted just enough to allow the shrinking snow person to slip into the pond and away, it will be spring.
Posted by jodi on March 12, 2010 at 7.10pm