bold colours, warm blankets

Something happened yesterday that slowed everything down.

I was in the middle of a singing lesson with F, my 12-year-old student. I try to show her a few videos on YouTube each class, to give her some fun examples of whichever genre or artist I'm teaching her about that day.

Anyways, we were sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching Comme des Enfants by Coeur de Pirate when my friend Sara came out into the room carrying a big, red fleece blanked.

"She loves when stuff just comes out of the dryer," Sara explained as she tossed the blanket over F's shoulders.

F gleefully snuggled it around herself, then pulled the blanked over my back. The warmth of it embraced me while the clean laundry scent filled my nose. We just sat there watching the video (that was filmed in our neighbourhood) all cozy and quiet.

I felt entirely present in the moment, and I never wanted it to end.

Last weekend, when I was home for Thanksgiving, Brian patiently walked both of my family's rambunctious dogs for me as I wandered clumsily around the woods, snapping photos of the saturated colours and gorgeous light.

The silence of the forest is like a salve for a city girl's harried spirits. I just stood there, perfectly still and wanted time to follow my lead.

I use my camera so I never forget moments (or colours) like these. When I don't have my camera, I mentally snap off pieces of time and file them away for the darkest moments in the cold of winter.

quiet afternoons in the sun

These few silent moments were some of the best, most relaxing of my vacation.

green and blue

Stepped out of the city for a few days.

curative properties

Easter weekend at home was a much needed breath of fresh, country air.

Dinner at Grandma's passed with minimal drama, minus the creepy man watching us eat from behind a tree (while clutching a Tim Horton's cup). "Oh don't worry, that's just Huey," I was assured. Right, the fact that this sketchy character is a regular fixture on the lawn should totally assuage my worries. Eeek.

My stress level dropped steadily as we drove further away from the city (Montreal, and then Toronto). I took some deep breaths, cut off a bunch of my hair, ate some great meals, and got a few decent nights' sleep. Funny how I don't seem to be able to do those simple things in the city.

why every man in vermont has a beard

Getting out of the city for a breath of fresh, mountain air is oh-so necessary at the end of this winter that seems to go on and on and on and on...

Ventured to Jay Peak, Vermont this past weekend, for an incredibly affordable ski day. The day started off even better than expected, when I got a freshly-baked maple walnut cookie with my lift ticket.

The coolest part for me was the crazy difference between the sunny, gorgeous temperatures at the bottom of the mountain and the sub-zero, apocalyptic storm at its summit. A 5-minute ski lift ride felt like intergalactic travel. The weather changed steadily throughout the day, which was pretty cool.

In terms of the people, I have never seen more facial hair in my life. I even saw one man with what must have been the world's bushiest eyebrows. They were out of this world. I find it odd how Vermont is perceived as the arctic of the U.S, and how men seem to have genetically evolved to have crazy facial hair to survive the comparatively harsh climate. I have only been to Vermont four times, but every visit has been marked by ubiquitous beards and wool sweaters, and more maple syrup paraphernalia than I've ever seen up here north of the border.

giving thanks for

Weather this warm.

thieves in the night

I was suddenly startled out of sleep last night by very strange grunting, snorting and scratching sounds outside my window. Although I immediately assumed it was the raccoon family that terrorizes our house during the night, I was still afraid. I will openly admit I have actually called Brian at night before to get him to tell me not to be afraid of the raccoons outside my window.

As an aside, you may or may not know that my anti-raccoonness began long ago, after one repeatedly broke into my room at Western. During its final visit, it knocked over all my plants, tracked its muddy footprints all over my room (including my pillow), ate half an apple, ripped open every garbage in our 6-person house, ate my hair dye, and then shat all over the stairs.

Anyways, even though I assumed the noises last night were coming from raccoons, I lay there in bed like a child afraid of monsters, with my heart pounding in my chest. They were making the most terrifying noises! I thought to myself: "Actually, they are way too grunty for raccoons...they must be wild boars." Which hearkens back to another fear of mine: wild boars.

So I got up the courage to (wrapped in my comforter) look out the window. I could hear the noises, but the raccoons were nowhere in sight, which led me to think they were right UNDER my window, or in the giant bush in front of our house. Either way, terrified, I cowered back in my bed. The noises didn't stop. In fact at this point, they were getting louder. So, like a baby, I put in my earplugs in and buried myself deeper under my blanket. I dreamed of boars all night. Honest to god.

So this morning, I awake to the sound of my uncle Dennis (who is here painting the outside of our house) yelling "@$&*!!!!" at the top of his lungs.

Turns out, the noises were the raccoons in his car (they got in through his inexplicably open window that my dad had repeatedly warned him to close). They ate all the old food he has in his car (as another aside: just yesterday he was bragging about how his iron gut allows him to eat "week-old Colonel Sanders" with no repercussions), drank his chocolate milk, and spilled what they didn't drink all over his car. They then tracked their chocolately prints all over the hood of his car.

Classic raccoons. Classic uncle Dennis.

why I love the rain

These pics of water bursting through a rock face were taken with my trusty point-and-shoot camera, which I am very fond of. I was fortunate enough, however, to be given an amazing new digital SLR for my birthday. Now I can finally look professional when doing shoots. Let the fun begin!

coming of age

The most hilarious moment of my twenty-fourth birthday? Calling my grandma to thank her for my gift, and finding her pissed off. Huffing and puffing indignantly, she picked up the phone, declaring,

"Well, I had to drag myself away from watching Weightlifting After Age 60 on TV to answer your call, just so you know!"

"Grandma, seriously?"

"Yes, and as I was watching those men, I was thinking to myself, 'holy hannah, I better get myself up and moving one of these days. There are people out there close to my age in a lot better shape than me!"

"I'm glad they inspired you, grandma. Anyways, thanks for the hand lotion and the sculpture of the African woman. I'll let you get back to your show--"

"You're welcome. Thank you. I better get back to it!"

This exchange brought forth the realization that I may very well be sliding closer to my grandma's eccentric ways with each passing year. Oh, what does life have in store for me?













I am on a real photography kick here, due to the change of scenery I guess. Not to worry though, I'm sure I will be rambling on again very soon.