If you did the math, actually tallied up the number of Canadian novels and short story collections that Edna Alford had a hand in crafting, I’m quite sure it would be impressive. Last night members of the 2009 Writing Studio, along with faculty and former participants and faculty had a few words to say about Alford who is bidding adieu to the Banff Centre, at least as a faculty member.
Quiet, elegant, and persistant come to mind. Here she is with Stephen Ross Smith, the new director of Writing Programs at the Centre–always changing, and growing.
Again and again that guy from Ottawa nails it! For your viewing pleasure, Monsieur Bök. You can check out John’s photostream at Flickr.
Several night hikes sweetened with resin from the Firs. At night they don’t fold in but the higher one goes the more they sway, and at the very top they are dwarfed by the elements, grow sideways, or squat and thick, or in a circular way, the bark twisting slowly over years.
The air at this altitude is still quite cool and dips even lower after dark. Though the dark takes some time to descend, when it does it seems sudden, almost heavy, and sweet.
Is it possible trees are more comfortable at night?
It was in Banff that I came to know the second blue hour, that of the 4 am variety. Up and around as plates shift deep under the earth, resonating up one’s spine.
And in the marshy land to the west of town Elk gather, ducks can be heard, if not seen, landing somewhere amidst the grasses.
I really need to get my hands on Christopher Dewdney’s Acquainted With the Night. Though I prefer to chart my own way through the unknown, a tip every now and then is helpful.
Ick, ick, ick.
Here hear James read his poem for Walcott…
Step away from the invisible border people. We don’t like being gawked at up here.
Ah hell, of course we do! We live for it.