We’ve been living it up R&R style this past week at Miss Quincy‘s farm on the banks of the Peace River in Northern BC. I’m talking 3am dawns, thunderstorms you can watch like TV, popcorn & movies, walks by the river, leather conditioning boots (my secret personal favorite), shooting guns (to see photos of girls & guns at the gravel pit click here), and lazy days spent in the longest days of the year sun drinking beer & jamming.
The Vangina watches a thunderstorm roll in.
Miss Quincy & The Showdown rehearse in Miss Q’s cabin.
Mildred the turkey & Willamina the wolf like what they hear.
Miss Q shows off her hipneck hula-hooping skills by drinking a beer while doing it.
Travis from The Party on High Street.
Front porch cabin jams.
This is 97th Street in Taylor, BC. Also known as the street I grew up on.
I’ve learned that when you’re in the homeland for less than a weekend the only way it’s possible to see all your friends & fam is to throw a party and invite them. Thanks to Mother Hen Peck and superhero Lew Bates for being the best darn summer BBQ/Garden Party/House Concert hosts in The Peace.
Afternoon rehearsal at Mother Hen Peck’s farmhouse.
The Resurrect Christ Foundation’s mad bearded violinist, Josh Giesbrecht.
Friends & Fam
Here’s an editorial I wrote for May’s Northern Groove magazine on being Funemployed (page 5). You’ll also find one of the animal addict portraits I took of Miss Quincy on page 17.
Big kudos and Beer Friday cheers to my old pals of the Northern Groove team for keeping arts & culture alive in the Northern bowels of BC.
Check Northern Groove out online here, and while you’re at it check out the affiliate project Where The Art Is too!
I’m not going to lie, when I looked out the window this morning I screamed bloody murder.
That’s because Mother Nature was out there smothering the life out of everything with her snow blanket. On the verge of hysterically calling 911 to report the massacre I was witnessing, Robert Plant convinced me otherwise.
As he sang, “Apple like a cherry, cherry like a rose”, I noticed some tiny red crab-apples glowing like roses and generally paying no attention to the white death coming from the sky. Seeing no reason to be upset about it if they weren’t, I put on my mittens and boots and went outside to photograph all the still living things I could find.
I keep swearing that I will no longer allow myself to be seduced by Fall’s philandering charms, because in the end that fleeting bastard always skips town and leaves my poor little heart in a frozen mess. But every year, without fail, Fall comes rolling back into my life and whispers golden dreams in my ears until I crumble into its bed of colours and before I know it my heart’s re-lit on fire with its flaming beauty.