Brockville — Deep in the heart of the verb ‘beguile” is the idea of deceptive charm. Beautiful clutter in a house beguiles us through the forthright honesty of the daily lives of things we love — juxtaposed to form new meanings, meanings which vanish when the objects are removed or separated. This is the cruel deception of the museum case. Or, the lies of sentences which bring words together in new ways,...
Brockville — When people come together, even in small numbers, it can be magic. The dark is banished if just for a while. There were artists, teachers, retired folk, a farmer, a chef, a writer, a flight attenda...
Brockville — When I used to cross this border regularly in the seventies, I believed in the foolishness of such boundaries. People are people, humans are humans, and the nation-state will soon fade away as world ...
Brockville — I have visited this place and these friends almost every year for the past twenty or so, even though I live ten thousand miles away. This kind of travel, going back and back, is very different from t...
Leaving the party at dusk
Yesterday in Brockville we went quilt hunting. I chose this one. Lovingly hand made in the 1930s.
The clutter of beguile
Did I mention Daylilies?
Found Art (from an old barn)
John's modest greystone house on the edge of town . . . delectable.
On the banks of the mile-wide Saint Lawrence, over a thousand miles before it flows into the Atlantic.
This traditional quilt, pretty old, grows on me every time I look at it. Love the dark side.
Brockville Cat Show . . . always worth a look in.
Brockville Pride Parade . . . wouldn't miss it!
While in Brockville, it seemed a good idea to slip back across the border for lunch at a Chinese buffet.
Smart car safely stowed while Daylilies (Hemerocallis) bloom in profusion.
Less than a thousand hours in the Thousand Islands with my friend John and his cat Luna Propofol.