Spring is Renewal.
Call it Canada Syndrome; the winter is always within me somewhere, though dormant for the months of blue skies and friendly winds. By the end of January, however, it is infused like a slow burning candle that provides no warmth and no light. And so it goes every year. And every year the same, without so much as a hint of self-awareness, I manage to slip into this unrepentant gloom that only seems to dissipate with the arrival of the new grass, the new buds, and the songbirds. Every winter I am overcome. Every spring I am renewed. Every year, Canada Syndrome. I think that I am a recovering Canadian.
The trees are plump with blossoms, their aplomb is almost palatable. The garden is bursting with color, the pansies, the daffodils, the primroses, the camellia, the chives. The holy days are upon us, the days of humility, the days of reverence, the days of miracles. The air is pregnant, the pollen is potent, the rivers are full.
My pen is not still. Ink on the page is fresh and images in my notebook are sharp. I am growing too, excitedly.
I am about to embark upon another recording project. The record is tentatively titled Last Bird Home. The songs are a collection of recent works mostly dealing with everything I can think of, specifically dealing with birds and home. (How helpful, how enlightening this description. Nonetheless....) So fabulous to have aboard this project wonderful friends to provide artwork, wonderful family to provide soundscape, wonderfully familiar faces to provide a living and breathing workspace. This is the most fertile, alive musical project that I have yet encountered. It is seed. It is germinating. And I continue, in total awe and graciousness, towards a warm and unwavering light.
Concerning Canada: spring is but a final sigh away. Survival is Revival.
However, I still love you.