Four Seasons In The Frozen North
Sleeps Now The Wide Eyed Host
Winter comes and with it an utter change in my routine and habits as they adapt to the hanging rhythm and sounds of the city. No more late night walks and late night reading an activity now carried out in the early morning. Coffee becomes far more of a treat, two cups first thing and then an hour or two of reading while the house is still hushed at its other residence lei sleeping.
Fortunately my upstairs neighbors, central heating system is settling down and the range of clanks, hissing, and grinding high pitched whine are settling into a quieter and more normal routine. Mind and body adapted to walking up at five a.m.
Change of habit and routine of this life and seasonal change within a vast machine are quite welcome and brought with it a new thought. I am sure I heard the sound of a bird in the pump as it hissed and spat and my ears became familiar with its rhythms.
Never thought what the sound of an air pump could be like before. A strange old man standing an engaged in a weary act of repetitive movement also seems to muttering in a Russian accent. Could he be lurking in my neighbors cupboard, ensuring the system flows regularly and nothing escapes? Detached, lost in a different time, but still utterly engaged in his weary task and its numbing rhythms?
My stick men crayon adaption in mind, of an old masterpiece is beginning to be filling with sound and an opportunity to layer it with far more memories of other things and ideas.
For I Have Put A Spell On You And A Wisp About You’re Head
Here the days and light grow short but memory begins to live and wield its spell over everyone in the house. Tales of childhood, smiles and laughter. This afternoon we embark on the hunt for an ancient magical creature, long forgotten. The Thimble, a strange small fury beast with green and red strips, that was one of our children’s constant companions.
For a number of years I spent countless hours engaged in this quest.
Sometimes we all played the game of hunt the thimble when it was intentionally hidden. At other times the experience could be somewhat more vexing when Thimble became accidentally lost. You had to drop what you were doing and find it, often that was just a case of plotting the usual movement and routines of a small being and looking in the usual places.
Sometimes Thimble would turn up in highly unusual place’s and it seemed almost as if it may have been sulking and wanted some attention.
One of its chief magical properties however was the ability to disappear between the hours of 6p.m to 7p.m. Corresponding exactly with bed time.Uncanny. We clearly need to find it before this witching hour or all hope of uncovering it on top of a wardrobe or at the back of a drawer will be lost; judging from long experience of dealing with this creature.
I Will Not Die Though You Bury Me
Such is the way of magical objects when they are deployed in you’re path. They demand immediate attention to remedy the spell or curse that has carried them. The product of a small and intimate face to face society and culture.
The Hunt for The Thimble has begun.