tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62528322012-01-01T14:40:27.757-05:00Mundane musings on nature, spirit, & time from a collector of the quotidianLoriannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11610684937868696220noreply@blogger.comBlogger151100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1073732125040256832004-01-10T05:54:00.000-05:002004-01-10T06:04:45.760-05:00

Last night I accompanied Chris through the bitter chill to his lute lesson in Antrim, NH. As Chris had his lesson in the home of friends, I read the book I’d brought, a classic nature writing text that had brought me joy when I read it as a teenager in Ohio. Reading that same book as an adult in New Hampshire, the opening chapters rang hollow: they seemed dated and quaint, too idyllic for a

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1073648177358576272004-01-09T06:33:00.000-05:002004-01-09T08:56:39.720-05:00

Welcome! If you came here via the Cassandra Pages, you can jump to the post she's referring to by clicking here. If you came here via my Pedestrian Thoughts mailing list, welcome aboard: scroll down to look around. And to one and all, if you have a moment, feel free to browse around, listen to some music, take off your shoes & make yourself at home...

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1073643006990108042004-01-09T04:32:00.000-05:002004-01-09T06:24:24.553-05:00

It's been a couple days since I've posted a "proper" entry. As I mentioned several days ago, I was in the throes of revising one of my "Pedestrian Thoughts" essays, so my mind was on other tasks. Revision is an interesting thing. Most of my writing students hate to revise: when they finish a paper (i.e. the first draft), they want it to be over & done with. Those of us who take joy in

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1073486223337513282004-01-07T09:33:00.000-05:002004-01-07T09:37:22.696-05:00

Since I often refer to my dog, Reggie, in these blog entries, I thought you might want to read his bio. He used to have a website of his own (long story), so he's somewhat chagrined now that he merits only a corner of my site. Poor boy...

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1073407009444640612004-01-06T11:22:00.000-05:002004-01-06T14:16:14.930-05:00

Some while back, Fred from Fragments from Floyd wrote a wonderful piece about soup. Winter is perfect soup-weather, of course, and Fred's post got me stewing about a more metaphysical potage: the random assortment of tasty bits that continually brew in my brain, a stockpot (or perhaps I should say full-of-crock-pot) of a different sort. And so today's soup du jour is an olio of odds 'n'

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1073322075602084172004-01-05T11:59:00.000-05:002004-01-05T12:46:43.700-05:00

Yesterday morning was foggy & damp, the follow-up to several days of drizzle. Chris & I planned to go to Boston for the day, so I walked the dog in the morning, before the sun was visible: another day of homogenously gray skies. Drawn by the irresistible allure of mud, however, Reggie & I took our favored short-cut through the woods at the end of our street; by the time we came to the big

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1073234796208749792004-01-04T11:43:00.000-05:002004-01-04T11:46:54.650-05:00

Apparently the blog-bug is contagious. My husband just started an "audio blog" of his own which chronicles his daily practice regime as a musician specializing in Renaissance lute & voice. You can check it out here. Enjoy.

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1073216289158756542004-01-04T06:08:00.000-05:002004-01-04T06:47:41.723-05:00

It's 6:08 am--still dark--as I type these words; the blind in front of me is closed. I can't see the outside world at all--it could be snowing outside, it could have snowed last night, the world outside could have suddenly disappeared last night without my even knowing. Our front porch, the road in front of our house, the neighbor's yard across the street...all of these could be filled with

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1073046178058414572004-01-02T06:36:00.000-05:002004-01-02T07:38:28.490-05:00

(This post is a response to the latest biweekly topic at Ecotone, a wiki devoted to writing about place.) Right in the middle of nowhere, Ohio, sits one of my favorite places. It's only a half acre, and you'd probably miss it if you were speeding down the flat, straight road that takes you past it. It's in the middle of nowhere, you see, surrounded by the soybean fields and cattle pastures

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1072958249937062162004-01-01T06:23:00.000-05:002004-01-01T07:33:43.443-05:00

Last night, Chris, several friends, and I did the night up Zen style. In our Zen tradition, midnight is seen as being a time of "special energy," and New Year's Eve is seen as being particularly auspicious. When we lived at the Cambridge Zen Center, we used to do chanting practice at midnight to ring in (or more accurately BANG in) the New Year, with everyone pounding pots, pans, & drums as

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1072907431956626322003-12-31T16:40:00.000-05:002003-12-31T16:50:49.340-05:00

This morning it was bright and clear, so before knuckling down to the grocery shopping and other necessary chores, Reggie and I took our usual walk into town. These days, though, our usual walk isn’t so usual: a flock of common & hoary redpolls has been frequenting the birch trees on “our” bike path, so these days there are birders about, and I walk with binoculars. We’ve been seeing this

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1072827936226939882003-12-30T18:22:00.000-05:002003-12-30T18:45:53.450-05:00

Today instead of walking first thing in the morning, I waited for the perfect afternoon moment. This morning was cold and drizzly, with temperatures hovering around freezing: a perfect morning for lazing about in pjs & napping, listening to rain blowing against the windowpanes. After lunch, the right moment arrived. The rain stopped and half the sky lightened. From one window, the sky was

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1072731280120393002003-12-29T15:41:00.000-05:002003-12-29T15:54:56.923-05:00

I've spend too much time today inside. I'm typing these words here in my office at school: I just spent the last few hours working on Moby-Dick, the dissertation that won't die. I'm revising a chapter on seashores--Thoreau's & Beston's Cape Cod, Annie Dillard's Puget Sound--but as I revise these words I'm facing a wall far from the ocean here in Keene, NH. I can't even see the window from

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1072626582281521602003-12-28T10:32:00.001-05:002003-12-28T10:54:01.870-05:00

Sunday morning at my office at school, killing a moment or two (I'm allowing myself ten) before starting work on my diss ("Moby-Dick," one friend calls it: the beast that refuses to be killed). So having written 5 pages by hand this morning--a practice that I refuse to relinquish--here I am facing this "baby blog." Today's topic is "egotism," as in "Who the hell do I think I am to think that

Loriannenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6252832.post-1072573183359694192003-12-27T23:00:00.000-05:002003-12-27T20:00:31.430-05:00

So here the experiment begins. After keeping a hand-written journal for years & years, now I'm trying to see whether I can "convert" that writing online. "Everyone's doing it--why can't I?" In reading lots of other blogs these past few weeks, I've found it to be an addictive and oddly delightful genre: so, can I do it? I'm not familiar with this particular blog interface--I don't know if

Loriannenoreply@blogger.com