Sanford and I have been going out for long walks in the dark, wandering just out of town where the night caves in on itself into a bottomless sea of black. I bring a flashlight, of course, but often only use it when I hear the infrequent sound of an approaching car. Instead I like to feel my way, to attune myself to navigating through the black silence without the aide of my vision. When we walk at night in the dark I am more aware of the sounds, of the way the wind brushes itself across my cheeks like the feathering of a paintbrush. The way it splashes through the trees in hushing gusts. My boots crunching along the gravel of the dirt road, and then sinking into the soft shoulder as easily as a fork presses into raw cookie dough.
Yesterday Sanford and I went on a long wander through the woods, veering off the well-worn path and onto an old road that I spotted from the trail. I'm getting skilled at noticing the signs of the old roads--the steady sloping rise of the ramps, now covered with slender newborn trees, the cut aways from the banks of dirt.
We followed it for a long time, getting tangled in some dead fall before finding clearer ground under the large fir trees studding the landscape. I found a large glass bottle, some metal to bend into a sculpture, an old open lock, some bright blue twine. We saw a couple of deer, a couple of blue grouse. Got a little lost and turned around at one point, but we ventured into the woods because there was lots of light left in the day and I eventually brought us out onto the highway at exactly the spot I had predicted. It's nice to feel more confident with off-trail travel, but at the same time I am still cautious. It wouldn't take much to get lost around here, and no one would have any idea where I was. However, the problem with telling people where I am going is that I don't know myself when I first start out. We just go, and whatever catches my interest guides us.
At least I have Sanford, and snacks, a light, a knife, and sometimes mace, usually water. Would not be able to travel as I do without him to rely on as my steady sidekick.
I've been doing a lot of 3D art lately, mostly with found objects from my walks. The more I make, the more I find, and my imaginative muse is constantly rumbling with new ideas for how to combine the materials I come across. It's a nice compliment to all the writing--something hands-on and visual to give my mind a break from the land of language. On the topic of language I have also been using old books that my mother was going to give away. I've been tearing them up, creating poems, splaying the words out on canvases, sticking them to pieces of broken glass, dying them to look old by painting over the page with a cup of instant coffee my family left in my cupboard after their Thanksgiving visit.
Here's a little peak at the latest. It's made from a piece of driftwood with the inside discs from old hard drives tied on with fishing line. It's about five feet long. Hangs above the living room couch. The discs chime when I walk by or when the door is open and it's breezy inside. They also reflect, showing the view from all the windows during the day and casting some interesting shadows at night.
The writing has gone slowly this past few days. This is the toughest part so far. Yesterday the words were rich, but the count was low, and I have to be okay with that sometimes. Sometimes it really is about quality instead of quantity, but making those choices comes more in the second draft than in this rambling, meandering first. I'm still figuring out exactly what this story is about. Still letting it come as it wishes, sometimes about me, sometimes about other things, a huge jumble of words that will hopefully sort itself out and weave itself together if I just stand out of the way and let it do so. More for the second draft. For next month. I have a feeling this will be a long process. Have been drawn to seasons, and right now it is fall going on winter. I suppose I'll have to sit down and bang out some more as the seasons progress on their cycle.
Have been writing about the mine up here, about the old portals that still exist all over the mountains. Went to visit a couple of them with Sanford this evening on one of our favourite quick walks. I'd like to go underground in the mine up in Bralorne, and from what I hear it's possible to go down on a tour after you sign all the necessary waivers. It was interesting to talk to some friends this weekend who work underground, blasting away rock tunnels and then filling up rail cars with the resulting raw ore. The ore is then ground down into fine rock and then dust at the mill, and then gold is melted into a bead from the dust.
Working underground sounds like quite an intense experience, and then to top it all off the regular shift rotation is to work for 28 days on, split into two weeks of ten-hour day shifts followed by two weeks of night shifts before having two weeks off. Insanity. Not for the faint of mind. Like going underground. But I must try. Just to see what it is like. The muse and my own curious inclination demands it.
Things are going wonderfully at the school, although there is always more to do and I always feel like I am leaving things unfinished. I think it's just the way the job is: a constant work in progress. My desk is perpetually piled high with resources, although it is a chaos that is organized in my own way, and I can generally find what I need.
We hosted another tea party, red this time for Remembrance, and we showed our Monster Mash movie to the guests. As soon as I have permission from parents I will upload our creation to Youtube for your viewing pleasure. Students also took guests on a tour of our latest refrigerator box creation: a full-sized robot complete with fuse box, cardboard keys with slot, on/off button with instructions, wheels under the body to allow it to move around the room. It's absolutely amazing to witness the ingenuity of young minds still unhampered by the filters we seem to impose upon ourselves in our later years. My art this week has got me thinking about doing some found art with the students. I think we will start to collect things that they find outside to work with in the classroom. To build up a little stockpile of found art objects.
We have started a new unit on local history of the area, which will of course be interspersed with the typical Christmas theme. Our next project is to design and build a model of Santa's village, which I will also tie into lessons about the "north" and to geography when we talk about true north versus magnetic north. We are also going to be writing a Christmas play to record and edit on our ipad, which may alleviate some of the stage fright that accompanies being one of four kids performing in front of the entire community at our Christmas concert.
Well, it's chocolate o'clock and I am overdue for the day's writing session. Send me your positive thoughts with the writing. At times it feels like I am writing a lot but really saying nothing; all part of the process though. Doubts and all.
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