Jessica Brannen.
Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Lately: Making mobiles, asking people to draw me a piano, longing to have a garden, hibernation mode, baking a disproportionate amount of biscuits, looking up words, scrawling in notebooks, chasing whippersnappers, making lists, making collages, looking at tree branches with spring waiting in their wings, 9 am Saturday morning dance class. (tooooo early)


Listening to: The Radio Dept., New Order, LCD Soundsystem, The Drums, Max Richter, Fourtet, Krakel Spektakel (kids), The Kerplunks (kids), Fem myror är fler än fyra elefanter (kids).

Reading: Natalie Goldberg- Writing Down the Bones, Emily Dickinson, Pablo Neruda, Virginia Woolf- A Room of One's Own, Tove Jansson- Trollvinter, Solveig von Shoultz- De sju dagarna.

Watching: In The Night Garden with tired kidlets at bedtime, and a little Portlandia.

Scotch tape, play doh, book pages and freshly cut grass on top ranking smells list.

Persnickety yet easy-going?
And no more naturally austere than you are naturally vicious. (Charlotte Brontë)

Middle child.

You can make me a Mexican feast and bring me cosmos or tulips.

Bookish, journal-writin' type.

Husband from Scandinavia and 2 kidlets.

Grew up in Chezzetcook on the Eastern Shore of Nova Scotia, playing on the beach and in the woods. Still spend a lot of time there. You can hear roosters.

Lived in Sweden for many years and speak Swedish. Love Sweden and Finland. Visit every year.

Hollyhocks and delphiniums.

Studied art, photo, film and textiles. Have a love of all things arts and crafty. Also gardening, sewing, and writing.

Remember rolling down the hill?

Remember picking Fool's Gold out of the road with butter knives?

Remember that time we sneaked into that white abandoned house and saw a wedding dress in the closet?

Let's go swimming in the ocean.

And go thriftin'.

I can peel carrots really fast.
I'm left handed.
I wish to find secret letters or notes hidden in old walls.
I love good old-fashioned letters.
I love quilts.
I love scraps.
I make a mean pancake.
Collective nouns are funny.

Over and out.

Everything flimsy

I got out and it was so windy and cold my fingers were immediately frozen and I could barely see or breathe but I just wanted to see, for myself, and not just from the car windows.

I only stood there on the boardwalk for maybe five minutes, but it was long enough to shake away my cobwebs and remind me that the Wild exists. This was exactly the kind of wild ocean I used to picture and miss when I lived in Stockholm. Way beyond my control, big enough to give everything perspective, and with that wind tearing past that shakes away everything fake, everything flimsy, everything unnecessary.

Comments
blog comments powered by Disqus