the furrows of the day

Today my friend Sylvie is here.
We are having all these different experiences,
that don't really relate.
All connected as they made up one whole day,
I will write down here some of those furrows that we followed a bit.
Not in any order, but as they flow on the page.

drawers full of unread hours
written on pages of fire
catching flames at inconvenient moments
dispersing smoke with love fragrance

(a translation of one of Willem's poems.)

(As we are doing art, while painting the next poem comes up.)

Spring flood of emotions
french woman
moving her frost heaved heart
towards love
becoming the goddess
she is meant to be
lines in her face
the furrows of an aapa mire

In the morning.
Going for a walk; first the road, then through the swamp. As we missed the early hours of the day, it's already hot and the mosquitoes are out.
Leaving the beautiful swamp flowers for what they are, we quickly move towards a ridge. Not that that gives as any relieve.

(Sylvie, getting hungry, is cooking a meal, telling me to tell you, that she is very much enjoying the view from the kitchen window)

Back in the woods, my goal today, is really not to far, a group of rocks, where i have only been once. Overcome by the heat we almost give up. We point to a spot, higher, that seems like a clearing; "That is how far we go."
Once we reach it; we see the rock face!
Only a little more climbing, we can do it.
And it is worth it! The view, the mountains in the south with their patches of snow, the incredible sky, with picture perfect clouds. The valley below, with a blue green lake. Sitting on the big boulders.


On the way back, light thunder. We happy with a sprinkle, turn, on the spur of the moment, into a neighbors yard. The fence is open, meaning he is home.
And so he is, we catch him on 'an inconvenient moment':) as he is just leaving for Montreal. Leaving his house in progress to the swallow.
They in French and i in English, we do have a very pleasant conversation.
And I learn that the rock we have been sitting on, is
Annie Ned Granite Batholith
A thin strip of geological land coming from the coast.
Not only do i live in an ancient lake (close to shore mind you)
I also live on an even older island, maybe 100km wide, right in the middle.