“Sunblood” – Shad and Besnard Lakes

Two weeks early?  Two weeks late?

A damp sleeping bag in the back of a truck. A hard frost blankets the inside of the truck canopy. The

“One Fine Morning” – Bill Callahan

Early season bird hunting is a frustrating and often fruitless endeavour.

The air is too warm, the sun is too hot, and every hill has you

“Gift Shop” – The Tragically Hip

July 17th:
past forest and flowers
we wander through a world of grey and green,
looking for a place to happen.
and in the distance between
the

“Grown Ocean” – Fleet Foxes

we went west. to the island. to get away from the fifty shades of brown back home. to exchange snow for rain. for the sea, for the surf, for the

Bird season has came and gone, without much activity from me. Two reasons in particular:

1) A quick early season hunt on the back forty. A little yelp, a yelp like a million

“Remember the Mountain Bed” – Wilco

My lungs and thighs still burn from the trek up, the skies overhead are dark grey and threaten rain, the winds bite hard and threaten snow.

Dawn:
Warm sleeping bag. Cold morning air. The grass heavy with dew. The sky bright with promise. Birds chirp. The temptation to sleep battles the temptation to fish. A full