Thursday, October 28, 2010

Weather Report

Constable, John
Rainstorm off the Coast at Brighton
c. 1824-28
Oil on paper laid on canvas
8 3/4 x 12 1/4 in (22.2 x 31 cm)
Royal Academy of Arts, London

Saturday, October 23, 2010

The Dog and I

This conversation has become stilted, and boring, and repetitive. And I really am not sure what I can do about it. Well actually I do know, but am not doing it. The answer, my absent friends, my silent readers, my peeping tom-mers is, merely, simply, to write. And I will. I promise. More often, more plentifully, less morosely, more effusively.

I live in Madison now and it's beautiful here. My thoughts are fewer because activity is relentless. As is laziness. It's been a rather interesting transition. There are things I have done that I could list and it would seem like a lot, but it isn't. Somehow I have done them; slowly, carefully, cheerfully. With a LOT of help from people. From friends, from roommates, from mentors, from colleagues, from family. I really am nothing without the people around me. And this I gratefully confess.

It's been a month and some and I now know my house. And my office. And the route from home to office. I know the parking garages on campus. And I have a favourite lunch restaurant. It's called Buraka. Their injera makes me long for dosas. I have cooked for people. And entertained at home. And built myself a winter wardrobe consisting of a ridiculous winter jacket and knee-high boots, both of which will threaten to obliterate my physical presence and replace it with a walking snowwoman. I have hosted guests. I have found a yoga studio and begun to take dance lessons.

I have met people. I have phone numbers.

The rituals of place-ness are in place. Soon I will tell you that I live in Madison. Right now, all I say is that I just moved into Madison from Austin.

Madison is on an isthmus bordered by two lakes, Monona and Mendota. It is rather quaint, and tiny, and pretty. The Fall colors are still changing, and I am surrounded by glorious yellow light filtering through glorious yellow leaves. The branches have been looking sparse over the last few weeks though. Winter's slowly creeping in, and the days are getting shorter and my sleep schedules longer.

But before I stretch this any further, have I told you that my house often hosts dogs? And how wonderful they are? So I'll leave you this beautiful fall evening lit by half carved pumpkins, and populated by chatter from passing strangers, with a little photograph...of the dog and I....