A bidding number

...is the first thing I get whenever I go to an auction. This was my number on Sunday.


So, in a small town nowhere near here, I sat with my number in hand. I almost bid on a crowbar. An antique corn planter. A grinder that went for just two bucks. I'm still kicking myself over the apple cookie jar.

In the end, I only raised my hand to eat a burger with fried onions. Auction burgers are much like rink burgers. The only difference is the environment in which they are prepared and consumed. It's an environment I love. As I ate I watched the auctioneer. The crowd. The fingers. The nods. The side deals.

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Speaking of side deals, I did end up with a crowbar. It wasn't from the auction, but because of the auction. And you never know when a sheep bell will come in handy.


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After the auction we headed to Regina where we raced around to get things done and then over to Aegean Coast Coffee and Tea for the Vertigo Reading Series where we heard Sandra Birdsell, Ian LeTourneau, Kelly-Anne Riess, Kris Brandhagen and Shane Arbuthnott. Chatted with some writers I haven't seen in quite some time. Some I'm just getting to know. It was nice.

After the readings, we stopped at a Tim Hortons before hitting the road for the two-hour drive back to where we were based. As the server filled our cups, she asked H where we were headed. This led to that and soon they were talking about people they both knew from Flin Flon and how they were just in Regina to visit their new grandchild. Small world.

And the world kept getting smaller as we drove off into the night. From double lane to single lane to the curves of the Qu'Appelle Valley. Ditches, all eyes. Mostly deer. The odd coyote.

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Tuesday. More visiting. More sorting. CBC Newsworld in the background. The same swine flu news over and over for hours. Switch to CTV Newsnet. Hours later, switch back.

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Headed home yesterday. When we set out, we saw a turkey vulture ride the wind over the highway, heading north.

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This is what greeted me at the post office when we got home.


A perfect end to a perfect road trip.

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Today I've been giving some thought to the sheep bell. Here's a 12 second video summary of my thoughts.

Reading a text is a profoundly ecological act

...says Timothy Morton in The ecological thought—mission statement. I found this post when I was looking around for reviews of Morton's book Ecology Without Nature, a book I decided to buy after listening to the first four lectures of his "Literature and the Environment" course, the course that I mentioned in my last post. Of course I plan to listen to the rest of the lectures as I wait for the book to arrive.

I also checked out Morton's blog and learned of phallic art on rooftops, viewable via Google Earth, which he comments on at some length.

My whole day was not spent in front of the computer, however. It's spring and I've been spending a fair bit of time outside. Every time we look around we see another arrival. Merlins yesterday. Greater Yellowlegs today. A Myrtle just a few minutes ago.

This afternoon H and I drove out to Annabel Creek to check out the flow and the birds. On the way there, Morton's words about what ecology, mentally, is all about (which I heard in the second lecture titled "Edges, Margins, Silence") suddenly came to mind when I saw this sign.


I think it's a sign.

Downloading Louise Bourgeois

...took mere minutes. And it was free. Now, thanks to the Tate and iTunes U, I have hours of lectures and interviews to listen to.

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April 15 - Right now I'm downloading a symposium called "Art and Science Now: The Two Cultures in Question."

Next up: "Literature and the Environment," a series of 18 lectures.

I expect these will compliment my current reading quite nicely.

Yesterday a reliable source

...called to let us know that the goldeneyes were back at the Sturgeon-Weir River, about a 30 minute drive from Creighton. So we headed off this morning to check things out. On the way, near Nesootao Lake, I said whoa, there's a bluebird. And sure enough, we turned around and there it was, hunting in the ditch. H was driving and it was on the passenger side, so I used H's camera to get a couple quick pics.


This is the first bluebird we've seen up here in our 20 some years of birding in this area, though I suspect they've been coming here all along. As you can tell in this pic, we still have a fair bit of snow, making the bird easy to spot.


Because the ditches are still full of snow, it was concentrating on the narrow strip of bare ground right at the edge of the road. Or at least that's what it was doing in the very brief time we were there.

So off we went. A short while later we arrived at the Sturgeon-Weir River. Sure enough, there were 22 Common Goldeneyes on the open water. No Barrow's among them. We set up the scope and watched the males throw their heads back while the others looked on. What a wonderful production.


As we watched the ducks, a lone Canada Goose flew over. It sounded so lonely.

Meanwhile, three otters were busy fishing in the distance. Here's one of them.


There's something about the way otters move. No matter what they're doing, it looks like they're completely engaged and having fun. They never fail to leave me smiling.

On the way back to Creighton we saw a Bald Eagle. Another sign of spring. Our source told us about the eagles, too. The only thing we didn't see was the black wolf.

What happens

...when things go to pieces? I first saw this article on Picasso's Guernica yesterday morning. I was quite taken with the article at first. With the pieces. But I've since learned that if you stare at a wounded horse too long it will haunt you all day. By that I mean the detail of the wounded horse in the second image, the way everything around it has been de-emphasized for the purpose of the article. The same is done to the bull, the head and so on. This kind of dismemberment, while perhaps aiding the discussion, disembodies the painting in the end. So now I'm picturing the wounded horse. Just the wounded horse. It's just floating there in my thoughts. Totally out of context.

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Other floating bits and pieces of this morning:

• it's sunny
• -2
• I'm restless
• we still have tons of snow
• the crows are back
• this is the third version of this post (or more)
  
• started another blog (it's now gone)
• going through piles of journals
  
• I can't get into tweeting at Twitter
• swear I heard a junco

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This evening it's still bright and clear. A bit of a breeze. People out walking and biking and working. I found a blank notebook when I got home. It's time.

This is the way

...it is.


Or the way it was.

The way we see it.

Over 50 readings

...have been posted over at 30 in 30. More coming soon. It's great to finally put voices to the words I've been reading over the years. I can't imagine all the work that went into pulling 30 in 30 together. The National Post posted a Q&A with Julie Wilson about the project. Hats off to Wilson for bringing these voices together. What a treat.

My readings have been posted as well. The cover poem was an easy choice as I've spent so much time over the years pouring through Anne Szumigalski's library, now housed at St. Peter's College, and wanted to pay tribute. As far as my own poem goes, those of you who know the book might wonder why I chose to read one of the gelatin-based poems. It does sit rather oddly on its own. But if you listen to both readings you'll notice the tongues. And the animals beyond. That is why.

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I just saw this! Today a photo by H and a poem by Gerry are featured over at Pelican Watch, a site dedicated to the preservation of pelican habitat on the South Saskatchewan River.