Neighbours

I was walking to the store to get yogurt to make laisse, and I passed the most extraordinary house in my neighbourhood. It's being cultivated from fence to fence. It's lush and beautiful, and you can tell that decades of care and planning have been put into the garden.
I'd been meaning to talk to them since I moved into the neighbourhood. Today the sun was out and the woman was tending her seedlings. I thought of walking by and getting on with my laisse and laundry, and leaving her to her busy work, and then I remembered my time spent with Bruno.

I figured I'd like Bruno from the moment I met him. He picked my friend Aaron and I up from the train station wearing black jeans and a puffy black jacket, and he had his long gray hair pulled back in a pony tail that went well past his shoulders. He had a massive smile strapped onto his wide face, and a day of stubble coated his neolithic jaw. His paw stretched out to crush mine.
- Salut! Ca va? he said, and I bumbled that I was doing well. My French was far from fluent and Bruno spoke almost no English.
We got in his van and Bruno threw on a reggae mixtape and began jabbering excitedly - I could only catch about half of what he was saying, but his enthusiasm was captivating. He couldn't wait to show us his farm. When my mind tired of translating, I let my eyes drift outside the windows to watch the sun set on the magnificent Vienne landscape while Aaron tried to make sense of Bruno's Argo slang.
Watching Bruno work was one of the simple joys of life. We were excavating the side of his house to install drainage, and he had a small shovel on tracks that he would drive around with the same manic energy he had radiating from him constantly. The shovel would jerk and lurch along the path between the gravel pile and the trench, billowing clouds of pot smoke flowing from the windows, and Bruno would be shouting at us from his perch - Yess-ai! La Force Canadienne! He thought Aaron and I were a marvel, working in t-shirts in February. We told him that coming to France and digging trenches was a Canadian tradition. He laughed his hearty laugh and clapped our backs solidly.
Bruno was the happiest person I've ever known, full of life and humour, with a huge love for food and wine and friends and laughter; he was generous and hard working and had limitless energy.
Bruno would wave at everyone who passed by his farm. Everyone. He would shout Allo! at cars as they sped through the countryside, and greeted guests at their car with his burly smile and an offer of coffee. His personality emanated from his farm, and it was a hub of activity and cheer. People flocked to see Bruno because his easy laughter lifted weight from peoples' shoulders and inspired people to enjoy life more, and his boundless energy showed everyone what was possible in a day.
It all started with a wave and a smile.

I waved at the woman examining her arugula, and bellowed a hearty Allo!, for Bruno. She looked up and smiled. - Y'wanta blooberry, ou a raspaberry? she asked, gesturing at containers. I asked her to show me her garden. We walked through the rows, and I met her husband in the backyard on the second half of the tour. They were old but vital; they seemed to feed off the growth around them.
- Wha's you'w name? he asked.
- John
- Johnny, okay, Johnny. Alfredo, he said, extending his hand. - Y'likey fig?
They sold me one of their old containers to plant my tomatoes in, and I asked how many they thought I could put in the barrel. - One? Two?
- Five! he said, almost outraged, moving his hand over the barrel and making a clucking sound with his tongue where he thought my plants should go. - Look, look, he said, brushing his hand through a bunch of lively young greens growing in a barrel, - Looka 'ow much is 'ere. His broken English made his assertiveness charming and impossible to argue with.
- Y'know dis? he asked, pointing to some short leafy greens.
I plucked a leaf and rolled it between my fingers and held it to my nose.
- Parsley?
- Si, Si, y'wan?
- Sure, yes, thank you.

a quote to fill the void

Today, I stared at a blank page until I was overcome with frustration. Since I didn't write anything, I thought I'd share a quote.

Throw the lumber over, man! Let your boat of life be light, packed with only what you need - a homely home and simple pleasures, one or two friends, worth the name, someone to love and someone to love you, a cat, a dog, and a pipe or two, enough to eat and enough to wear, and a little more than enough to drink; for thirst is a dangerous thing.
- Jerome K. Jerome, Three Men in a Boat

algonquin morning

I wake I know not how. There is no time here, only light.
It is light enough to rise.
The morning chill sharpens me as I dress, and the thrill of beholding the morning hastens my movements.
A fog hangs low over the lake obscuring the still, glassy surface. On the far shore a rugged cliff is barely visible through the shifting haze.
I put a pot of water on to boil and head to the shore to wash my face.
The ancient forest is so still at this time it is imposing. Old and dark, beautiful and endless. The pines and hemlock and birch beckon me to enter and explore, to learn their secrets and forget my past.
The ticking and creaking of the water reaching a boil brings me back to the campsite. I sit on a log and let the rich smell of coffee swirl around me and I savour the way the heavy aroma mixes with the long flavours and warms me.
The sun is higher in the sky now, and as the air warms the fog lifts from the lake.
I know it will not be long before I cut the glass with my paddle and use my skill to move quickly and silently over these pristine waters and through these noble woods.
I was not born here but this is my home, my kingdom, and I am its master, its steward, its lover.

Sustainable home designs

I do a lot of research into sustainable home building techniques and designs, and for the benefit of others I thought I'd share my best finds.

Cob is the future and the past, and that's what I like about it. There's something scintillating about photovoltaic cells sitting atop walls made with pre-history technology. If we make it, this is what our society will be in a hundred years: firmly rooted in our past and traditions, but also utilizing our limitless ingenuity and innovation. Some things we got right the first time, and others are yet to be discovered.

Ann and Gord Baird built a cob house in British Columbia that is truly inspirational. Their project can be found at eco-sense.ca, and an informative slide show of their house under construction can be found here.

The Earthship design is a brilliant and elegant concept with an unfortunate name. The design uses dirt-filled recycled tires as exterior walls to provide thermal mass for temperature control, and passive solar energy to provide radiant heat during winter. Mike Reynolds' ideas have been constructed all over the world, and prove the multi-climate viability of his ingenious solutions.

Many people who have built their own earthships have made websites detailing their design and the process, and also providing a window into what the pre-flash, pre-css, Geocities based interweb used to look like. Two examples are found here and here.

fresh lust

Her dark hair flows down in a midnight river and cascades over her slight shoulders. Her eyes are dark and wet and deep and they can halt you and make your skin feel like your cells are smoldering. She's fluid, confident, she doesn't walk but seems to flow, and if she touches you she's not fire or water but pure electric.
Her laugh is free and pure, and as she comes out of it her smile is lopsided, almost a smirk.
Her eyes are on me and I can feel her hands on the back of my head, a crushing kiss, her quick tongue, her soft lips, and I have to look away because if I hold her gaze any longer I'll be blind to anything else.
I turn quickly and walk away, buzzing, none of my blood where it should be, tingling, fucking addicted.