“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
past forest and flowers
we wander through a world of grey and green,
looking for a place to happen.
and in the distance between
“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
“Oh My Friends” – Nap Eyes
Leave the big river to those masochists willing to cast weighted nymph rigs into a bitterly cold 100km/h headwind.
Instead you’ll slip up into the
“Until I Find You” – Doug Paisley & Bonnie “Prince” Billy
Its always been there, out in front of you. Real life. Big decisions. Consequences. A hurried world pulling you in
“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.
“It’s No Use” – Zuzu’s Petals
as the northern sun finally set, he took refuge from the blackflies underneath the truck canopy. he sat on top of his sleeping bag eating cheap
It may not seem like much. Its humble fare indeed but washed down with an ice-cold pilsner on a hot July evening . . . its about as fine a thing as you can find.
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