What a crank

The garden is in

...and larger than ever before. Gardens, I should say, connected by a well-trod path. A way, but not an old way by any stretch.

The Old Ways: A Journey on Foot by Robert MacFarlane.

This is one of the books I've been reading. I learned about it recently on Facebook thanks to a friend's status line. Some passages in the book have led me to somewhat new ways of thinking. To new approaches to some of my preoccupations perhaps. We'll see.

The City of Regina's commitment to the literary arts

...has had a great rate of return over the years. Regina is home to many award-winning, critically acclaimed authors and publishers whose contributions to the city, province, country, and beyond, are immense. Those writers and the writers they attract to the city foster cultural growth and wealth. Free and accessible literary programming allows for greater exchange of ideas, great community building and richer lives for all. This is not news.

Difficult economic times call for difficult budgetary decisions and the arts certainly are not immune. This is not news either. Today's news, however, came as a surprise: Funding for literary programming in Regina has been slashed horribly. Details here. I hope alternate funding can be found.

I wonder if a literary family tree (listing schools, universities, organizations and events each writer has been involved with, schools and universities where their work has been presented and studied, links between writers and programs, etc.) would help city council revalue the roots, reach and range of contributions writers make to the greater community in Regina.

A literary map of Regina might help, too. Complete with legends.

In the meantime, thank you to the City of Regina for the years of support to the literary arts, an admirable example of forward thinking. We've all benefited greatly.
________________

Update

May 30 - The Regina Leader-Post May 29 story on the latest developments, which include transitional funding and the City's plans to look at the system. 

Last night a mighty wind and this morning

...endless singing. Sparrows everywhere you look.

White-crowned. White-throated. Harris's. Song. A few lingering Fox.

Spruce up the road

...I said to H. He stopped. Grouse have the right-of-way.

Grouse galore today. Spruce and Ruffed everywhere. It's that time. Some just stood on the road looking somewhere over yonder, so we had to carefully drive around them to get where we were going. There was drumming near and far. And that was just grouse. The forest was hopping.

A review of Grid

...online at Arc Poetry Magazine. I'm thrilled to see another review of the book.

Just caws

Passing the day