Today it’s blowing a mad gale outside. Winds are gusting up to 110km/h and the snow is that stick-to-the-greenhouse-and-scour-your-skin kind, which is more like ice pellets than any fairytale snow. Since I feel no need for an Arctic exfoliant, we’re tucked away indoors this morning. Time to work on projects, have a second (and third) cup of coffee, read a few blogs and wait for that miraculous moment when the snow turns to rain and we are released once again into the world to wreak havoc and create mayhem.
Or visit a book store, whichever comes first.
For non-Newfoundlanders, the quote, “Snow is softly fallin’,” is a reference to a folks song that is quite well-known in these parts, written by Dermot O’Reilly and performed by many folks over the years.
This is still my favourite version, by Ryan’s Fancy (of which Dermot O’Reilly was a member, along with Denis Ryan and Fergus O’Byrne):
And to liven up your morning a smidge, I also give you Ryan’s Fancy’s version of the Rocky Road to Dublin (Enjoy!):
This video highlights crafts in Newfoundland and Labrador and does a wonderful job of connecting the people and their talents to the history and landscape.
I’ve gotten a few requests for a video of my Brother drumcarder in action, so here it is. I did not tidy the studio before doing this video. Mea culpa.
It’s 11 min 43 sec long, but if you’re one of the folks who are wondering what it’s like before you buy, it just might be worth a watch. In it I talk about what the carder was like when I bought it, what came with it, how it works, how to set it up and what tools you’ll need to use it.
Here are a couple of close-up shots, as well, that show you a bit more clearly what my hands are doing:
Feeding in the fluffed/picked fibres
Feeding the batt through, second pass
Doffing or taking the batt off the drum
Lots of batts in the belfry around here!
I’ll do up another video with closer shots, when I have an accomplice who can man the zoom on the camera. It’s tricky to be subject matter, screenwriter and cameraman all at once!
The past few days around here have been cold and foggy with the kind of flesh-penetrating, bone-aching, finger-numbing cold that comes only with living near ocean in late winter. Some warm weather would be really nice, but seems unlikely because of this:
Yep. Ice. Lots of it. In some ways, I suppose, it just looks like a vast field of snow. In fact, it’s kind of pretty, although hard to photograph well (especially on a grey day in the fog).
When you get up close to it, though, it’s rather intimidating. The sheer power with which the ocean churns the stuff makes you realise that were so unfortunate as to end up in the drink, as cold as you think you are now now, you would be still colder. And dead. Rather thoroughly dead. When you watch the ice for a bit, you can see that it quick literally mixes itself, pulling the top layer down and crushing pieces together. Not only would you be instantly frozen in that water, you’d be crushed to a pulp and pulled under.
So we kept well back, but managed to take a couple of quick videos, for those so fortunate as to be places warmer. Both were taken on Middle Cove Beach, Newfoundland. My fingers have not yet regained their full mobility.
A strange song to have on one’s mind on a Tuesday morning, but there it is.
They used to play this at the close of the CCNL craft fairs. An odd choice, apart from the title. Of course, if you’ve done a craft fair or two, you understand the exhaustion and elation that come with the whole thing being over, so I guess it’s more applicable than one might suspect at first glance. Frankly, it was one of the highlights of take-down for me.
Run-time 5:53. Lyrics below.
Closing Time (Leonard Cohen)
Ah we’re drinking and we’re dancing
and the band is really happening
and the Johnny Walker wisdom running high
And my very sweet companion
she’s the Angel of Compassion
she’s rubbing half the world against her thigh
And every drinker every dancer
lifts a happy face to thank her
the fiddler fiddles something so sublime
all the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it’s partner found, it’s partner lost
and it’s hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it’s CLOSING TIME
Yeah the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it’s partner found, it’s partner lost
and it’s hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it’s CLOSING TIME
Ah we’re lonely, we’re romantic
and the cider’s laced with acid
and the Holy Spirit’s crying, “Where’s the beef?”
And the moon is swimming naked
and the summer night is fragrant
with a mighty expectation of relief
So we struggle and we stagger
down the snakes and up the ladder
to the tower where the blessed hours chime
and I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can’t say much has happened since
but CLOSING TIME
I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can’t say much has happened since
CLOSING TIME
I loved you for your beauty
but that doesn’t make a fool of me:
you were in it for your beauty too
and I loved you for your body
there’s a voice that sounds like God to me
declaring, declaring, declaring that your body’s really you
And I loved you when our love was blessed
and I love you now there’s nothing left
but sorrow and a sense of overtime
and I missed you since the place got wrecked
And I just don’t care what happens next
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it’s something in between, I guess
it’s CLOSING TIME
Yeah I missed you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it’s something in between, I guess
it’s CLOSING TIME
Yeah we’re drinking and we’re dancing
but there’s nothing really happening
and the place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night
And my very close companion
gets me fumbling gets me laughing
she’s a hundred but she’s wearing
something tight
and I lift my glass to the Awful Truth
which you can’t reveal to the Ears of Youth
except to say it isn’t worth a dime
And the whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it’s once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don’t like these dizzy heights
we’re busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME
The whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it’s once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don’t like these dizzy heights
we’re busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME
Oh the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
It’s CLOSING TIME
And it’s partner found, it’s partner lost
and it’s hell to pay when the fiddler stops
It’s CLOSING TIME
I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
It’s CLOSING TIME
The Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can’t say much has happened since
But CLOSING TIME
I loved you when our love was blessed
I love you now there’s nothing left
But CLOSING TIME
I miss you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex.
@lehogan @bkidney I would *hope* that he would *give up* abstinence with you quite cheerfully. Taking it up would be a different thing....~~17 hours ago
