Dec. 11th, 2002

jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
Well I dreamt I saw you walking
Up a hillside in the snow
Casting shadows on the winter sky
As you stood there, counting crows


Ice on the trees.
Fog, or rather very low clouds.
An essentially monochrome landscape; white snow, black road.
Evergreens, branches drooping, preserved in glass.
And a long-haired twenty-something in a trenchcoat and sandals, carrying a backpack.

I am going tramping in the woods this afternoon, because the woods are on a hill and hence in the fog, and because the ruins in the hollow will be very, very cool, and because there's something very right about ice-covered trees. I don't understand it. It's not prettiness, although they're very pretty. It just feels right. When the trees ice over, winter is here. And despite the familial trips at Xmas, winter has always been my favorite season.

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jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
Tucker McKinnon

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Adventures in Mamboland

"Jazz Fish, a saxophone playing wanderer, finds himself in Mamboland at a critical phase in his life." --Howie Green, on his book Jazz Fish Zen

Yeah. That sounds about right.

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