Posts tagged with "autumn"

Thanksgiving Weekend '07

Ah yes. My first trip “home“1 in about a year and a half, since my par­ents got divorced.

The entire­ty of my trip was in the com­pa­ny of Andrew and Alex, who host­ed me for the week­end. Pictures tell the sto­ry.

Drinks at the Madison

Thumbnail: Wide-angle Madison
Thumbnail: Jason and Kerry
Thumbnail: Alex and Emily
Thumbnail: Anne
Thumbnail: Rob and Sampson
Thumbnail: Alex and Kerry

On Friday night, we went to The Madison to catch up with their old drag­onboat team­mates. The Madison is a mas­sive pub, made from two or three amal­ga­mat­ed hous­es in the down­town dis­trict. A very pop­u­lar spot, which was appar­ent from the amount of peo­ple in it as the night went on.

I had­n’t been out drink­ing in…two years? Something like that.

Continue read­ing “Thanksgiving Weekend ‘07”…

  1. I’ve decid­ed that from now on, the quot­ed “home” will refer to Toronto, and the unquot­ed home will refer to Ottawa []

Autumn Recall

Fall approach­es. The trees have yet to shift their colours along the spec­trum, but the tem­per­a­ture has begun to drop. Even when the air is calm it’s a play­ful shiv­er down the spine.

One of my favourite things to do around this time of year, before I quit, would be some wake and bake to start the day. After smok­ing a joint, I’d open the win­dows, turn up the music, and let the breeze drift inside. Sometimes I would go for a walk with my iPod before the sun ful­ly showed itself. When the beat was right, the hard­est thing to do was not to move my body to the music, to groove embar­ras­ing­ly, and grind and sing and twirl.

With enough weed in the lungs, any­one will dance.

I won’t say that I don’t miss that lifestyle, because it was a way I could view things from a dif­fer­ent per­spec­tive. My thoughts would run freely on those ear­ly autumn walks. Music would sound bet­ter. Girls, cov­er­ing up in sweaters and long sleeves, would look nicer. It was a pre­scrip­tion I would need every week.

The expe­ri­ence isn’t the same until it’s this time of the year. Smothering sum­mer heat dulls the sens­es. Winter over­stim­u­lates them into sobri­ety, and even after a full bowl, all one can feel is cold. It’s only in the fall, in the per­fect weath­er, that brings one to ones’ sens­es. The green air, full of that cold con­crete smell, gives a rush to the head.

Until I walked out­side this morn­ing, with !!! pound­ing in my ears, I nev­er thought I could feel this way again.

The approach of fall has brought this back to me.

Autumn Argument

Thumbnail: Autumn pathway

Quite a few weeks ago, on anoth­er Sunday, I woke up with Loo sleep­ing next to me. I could nev­er sleep past sev­en because of my work hours, and Loo rarely gets to bed before 11 the night before. Our sched­ules were, and still are, almost an eight hour shift away from each oth­er. This does­n’t put us in the great­est of moods, and makes us say things that we don’t mean (on my end, at least, I can’t speak for her).

Like on that Sunday, after wak­ing up and sit­ting in the IKEA PELLO for an hour lis­ten­ing to my music, I was grumpy to say the least. I was­n’t tired enough to sleep, but I was­n’t rest­ed enough to do any­thing.

I decid­ed to just get out and walk, not sus­pect­ing how beau­ti­ful the autumn day was. Everything I loved most about the fall was in that morn­ing; the light chill in the air, the lay­ers of colours, the man­i­fest atmos­phere. The walk was brief, just along the canal and back, but it was a shiv­er of the sens­es that only comes out a few days of the year.

When I returned, I still was­n’t in the best of sorts. My frus­tra­tion about our mis­matched sched­ules was start­ing to come through. Loo got up and we argued, try­ing to fig­ure out who was to blame. In the end, I real­ized that it was­n’t either of our faults, but we were both pay­ing for it.

Even though we argued, we end­ed up resolv­ing things, a lit­tle wis­er, and still just as tired. Another hur­dle jumped, anoth­er obsta­cle that won’t get in our way again. I like to think that only good came out of that morn­ing, and that if it did­n’t hap­pen, I would­n’t have expe­ri­enced what I was meant to.

Like watch­ing jog­gers kick up the autumn leaves strewn across the pave­ment.

The Autumn Leaves

Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle,
Les sou­venirs et les regrets aus­si
Mais mon amour silen­cieux et fidèle
Sourit tou­jours et remer­cie la vie

—Jacques Prévert, Les feuilles mortes

Thumbnail: Autumn leaves

The leaves shuf­fle past on the side­walk, and all I can think about is how, every sin­gle day, the weath­er can be so dif­fer­ent, so unique­ly beau­ti­ful.

An accou­trement, she calls her­self. An intel­li­gent, ener­getic, pas­sion­ate acces­so­ry, what bet­ter bijou? So I wear her on my arm, along with my ribbed sweater and depend­able jeans, while walk­ing along the streets on a com­fort­ably cool after­noon.

The autumn days are ours.