Monday, May 16, 2011

Away Ugly Day, poetry by Rojan Zét

Ugly day, the rain has washed all snow
away, still driven drops drive home,
fall beating on my bumper chrome,
cold air gusts move limbs to limbo,
trees toss branches down akimbo. In
my woodstove down below, morning embers
yet burn slow, lending heat making
winter's glow replete, then you
appear to greet my day and
gloomy gray is turned away.


Rojan Zét

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Terri Bibby, Salt Spring Island artist

Profile of an Artist

Terri Bibby is a Saori freestyle weaver and designer, creating one-of-a-kind asymmetric clothing, scarves, wraps, bags and wall hangings in the Saori style.

In her studio in the woods on Salt Spring Island, Terri offers classes, workshops and retreats with a B&B option and is inspired by the ever changing colours and textures of nature that surround her. She has also had over 1500 people Weave for Peace on beautiful Peace Banners that have been displayed around the world.

Terri's background is in traditional weaving, having studied at Grant McEwan and Olds college. In 2005 she discovered the Saori freestyle approach to weaving and has explored Saori in Canada, the USA and Japan.



Website: www.saorisaltspring.com

Blog: www.saltspringweaving.com/blog

Monday, May 9, 2011

Ask Cousteau, He Knows

Susan writes...
I went on a great trip to Spain and Morocco....

Ask Cousteau, He Knows*
By Susan Christensen
April 5, 2011

The Med is dead!
But, dead can be beautiful:
There is still the excitement of the crashing storm waves,
With slate-smooth combers crashing in
Lacing the shore with froth.

Or, see how navy rims the horizon edging into
Deep teals that graduate into
Myriad curves of blues and greens
Frilling snow-white on the sands.

No squawking gulls picking over
The residue of life left by the receding tides
On the clean sandy beaches--
Just the odd dead fish
Desiccating under the sun’s burn.

No wind blown or sodden feathers.
No birds at all.
Only the sound of the waves.

No tide pools teeming with small crabs
And slippery life forms
That make your toes scrunch up.

No stranded, stinking kelp
Or drifts of sea weed
Mucking up the beach where you’d like to sun bathe.

Just some narrow drifts of wave-beaten shells,
Too colourless to collect,
Unless you prefer the translucent hues
Of thin and fragile ones
Catching a transient sheen from the sun.
Let them rest in peace.

No messy tide pools,
No noisy birds,
No slimy seaweed;

Beautiful
As the picture in the brochure.


~ Susan Christensen

* Google: Cousteau, Mediterranean Sea, lab accident, noxious weed.