Autumn on the islands that dot the Puget Sound is particularly wistful.
Fog floats inland frequently from the bay — shifting the terrain’s palette dramatically. The red and yellow foliage are made doubly loud atop grey mist. The damp ground littered with gorgeous debris. It’s epic.
Fall’s the season that reminds you of how everything — once present — is passing away; you’ve limited time — the impermanence of The Ten Thousand Things.
Winter and summer arrive like well-defined stage sets. Static in a way. Spring works subtly on the part of our nature that leans towards hope, a new tomorrow, love affairs, cleaner homes, it’s easier to take for granted. Summer is really hot.
But autumn. It will mess with your head. Read more
Weekend Music Discovery. Grade: A-
The eclectic electronic composer Max Richter‘s new 8-hour digital omnibus: Sleep.
Each lengthy transition is a mesmerizing transmission crafted to deliver you, layer by layer to the core of wherever you go when you fall asleep at night.
In spots some of the tracks sounds like angelic beings are beckoning, in others you’re wandering naked in fields of clover and the temperature is perfect.
And no, god forbid, these aren’t New Age lullabies. Some of the sustained tones do to your ears what moonlight does to your eyes, the equivalent of liquid silver sonics.
Break, blow and burn. Van’s incantation will take you up and out; this song amazes me over and over again.
Rave on John Donne, rave on thy Holy fool
Down through the weeks of ages
In the moss borne dark dank pools
Rave on, down through the industrial revolution
Empiricism, atomic and nuclear age
Rave on down through time and space down through the corridors
Rave on words on printed page
Rave on, you left us infinity
And well pressed pages torn to fade
Drive on with wild abandon
Uptempo, frenzied heels
The transition from summer heat to autumn cool. The light shifts and slants and when Scorpio approaches, regardless the hemisphere you reside in — well, the soul goes orange and crimson — a rich Tibetan red.
Critters rustle around slowly now. There’s lots of deer about, walking right in the middle of the road and then, once spotted, jumping to disappear into thick blackberry vines (I don’t know how the vicious thorns don’t tear their hides). Read more