Some Photos

Ramblings No. 1

To stare up at the sky, anywhere, would all look the same. Inky darkness.

Living in the "Old World" puts the ideas in the "New World" In perspective. 

My initial feeling is the long age of the land. Not that the land looks old. The length comes from people. The length of time, large numbers of people came and cultivated, established. 

I come from a pace where history if recent, yet fleeting. We struggle to hold on against new lands, and when we get our fists among the earth we are liable to rip it up and destroy it. Hungry for power against death. We must have industry, for the sake of profit. 

It brings its blessings. Health, life and casting aside ruinous illness that would snuff you out in grim ways. Slow ways. 

It brings unblessings. Curses? We don't see them as such. The wireless togetherness. My ability to send this out into the void of eyes and bots. The warmth, perpetually, so long as you work, hard or not. My food, free from effort. From being bent over the wheat field, barefoot in the garden, or hungry in the woods with naught but sticks and stones.

Once I looked at the old world with towering awe. The history, in every stone. Blood of battles seeped into the grounds. Lines of kings, queens, and history pushed into the crown. A crown built on the bones, the fists of the long dead. And we from the New World ape for that which is still remembered. We want the old, the things different, yet still us because this is where many of us came from. 

But as I am here now, with stones rising from earth, I can't help but look back over my shoulder to the place I left. 

The people there where for some time, unrecorded. Far more, their history was only carried by voice. Passed down, down, down to the next. 

It is the land that calls to me right now. Under stars. Under open or storm-tossed skies. The wild land. The land where despite our ripping, still is very wild. Deep black shadows in the woods, there, fill me with both fear and pride. 

Pride that the old world was late enough to not bury its fists so deep. Enough recognizing the wildness as more than an act of the devil. 

Perhaps this is a raving of a person who is homesick for some other landscape. Most likely this. 

My TBR Pile

My To-Be_read list was well over due for an update!

The holidays have come and gone like some food and pestulent filled tornado in my life and with it has brought a renewing of life, a budding of a new year on the branch.

I've got a few new titles. I found last year I did far more buying once I moved to the United Kingdom than I did when I was in Canada. I did get a few reads in on the summer, but nothing substantial.

What am I reading?

More of Naomi Novik's Termeriare Series. I've read the second last week and I am on to the third. Nothing beats the Napolionic War But with dragons and a text that feels from the era as well.

My non-fiction read is John Muir's My First Summer in the Sierra, which Will describes as "The Boring Bits of Lord of the Rings". I am enjoying it. I've had some eagerness towards the National Parks in the United States, to the point that I have purchased a book on them written by a Robert Stirling Yard who was a great influence and contributer to their developments.

The forth book I have is The Wolves of Winter by Tyrell. This is part of me and my best friend's book club we're starting together. I'm really excited to engage with her on this.

Another book on the list is one I thought I would never listed here or even read. Often I found old dusty versions of John Buchan's books crammed on to shelves with little hope of seeing them vanish. But after being able to read a premise and get some context to this man, I have bough "Sick Heart River". I'm hoping its a nice transition from Muir to the next thought provoking nature induced read.

Everything after this is bonus, but I am looking forward to this pile. It is not so monstorous and does not make me feel unproductive.