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Roman Hoard - April 2010
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Found
- Hits: 1821
Hot days, quiet nights
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1988
The Stampede has begun to take it's toll, cancellations, slow lunches, evenings.
It would be a relief were it not for the heat. There's air conditioning, but it doesn't help much, at all, it's stand around in a vest and tie and feel your life blood ebbing away.
There's the making of notes, the other staff find me mysterious as I hack away in my journal, elaborating upon brief flashes of inspiration, cutting down inspiration as it ripens and is ready to harvest, there's a lot of catching up to be done...
It was dad, mom
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 1371
My daughter, she's worn out by summer camp, and when her mom comes to pick her up I take them both for Ice Cream.
Amato Gelato, close by, the best, if you ask the children, ice cream in the city.
It is very good.
My daughter, she's made it a goal to try and somehow try every flavour this summer.
We eat ice cream, walking home, my daughter has picked up a bit, a little more lively, talkative, her mother comments:
"Eve, it seems like you've gotten your second wind..."
And she replies without missing a beat:
"It wasn't me, it was dad...."
Bench, again
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1862
Because I was too lazy to go for coffee, it was getting late and the view from my bench is just fine.
I feel a bit like Forest Gump just sitting there...
You watch the river, Canada geese circling the islands, the odd lone beaver swimming, the silence punctuated by joggers and odd couples walking and talking quietly amongst themselves.
It's grey, cool, cloudy, occasional stray raindrops splash onto my notebook, smudge the ink, no real threat, just aimless drops.
Sitting, watching, the grey clouds run like a band down the center of the sky, to the east it's all blue, to the west you can see a break low on the horizon.
Sounds of the river, of people passing, traffic.
And now the sun has passed the clouds and for 5, 6 minutes perhaps the sky, the river is lit up, no longer grey but blue and green with white caps on the waves, reflected sunlight, a thousand silvery winged motes hang in the air, the leaves and trees acquire a gem-like coloring, jewel tone shadings of phthalo green, pastel orange-yellow-grey clouds on a cerulean blue sky, it's been an hour on the bench for 5 minutes of perfection, the sun brilliant and low on the horizon, now behind a tree and you can see climbing into the sky the crepuscular rays, and my time is done.
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