I woke up scared, in my bed last night. A bad dream that made me sleep the remaining hour with the lights on, and missing another body in the house so bad.

Helicopters are constantly thundering above my head, lately. I feel as though I'm in some sort of military state where flights are the norm and that I ought to be expecting soldiers to slowly re-enter the community like lost brothers. But the town has been quiet lately, a lot of people have left to inhabit their summer camps and enjoy being 'out on the land'.

It's just me and helicopters, I suppose. It's such an odd sound to hear...one would expect it to be very quiet.

I've been rather ambitious the past few days. Yesterday I decided to venture out on the land and get some photos of flowers and things that are growing. I was eagerly anticipating the growth of a common flower in the arctic called Arctic Cotton.

They resemble cotton balls on sticks, the flower itself feels and also looks like white rabbit fur blowing in the wind.


Then today, I decide I am going to find someone to give or sell me an Arctic Char which is a common fish and also considered a delicacy around the world. I'm not normally a fish person, the best I can usually do is tuna from a can, or maybe perch or halibut. Something that doesn't taste fishy, which sort of defeats the purpose, right? So, I was driving all over trying to figure out who were regularly fished, and who might want to part with a fresh one that I can cook for dinner tonight. A friend gave me two idiot-proof recipes, and I was anxious to try it.

The thing about the north is that nothing comes in a tidy little package. I ended up coming home with this gigantic fish in a grocery bag, with his head still attached. At least his innards had been cleaned. At least, I think I was supposed to leave the main blood line in there...eep.


So, I chopped off the head, it's sitting in the sink right now. I was planning on taking it over to one of the sled dog teams that are posted on the outskirts of the village, but one head for 7 dogs doesn't really make any sense. So it will likely end up in the trash. I can't stop looking at it's eye balls. I feel as though I want to keep it around for awhile, like a little friend.


I made some steaks, I guess you could call them and saved those for tomorrow (in the event this evening's dish turns to disaster) and the other half of the fish is currently wrapped in tinfoil and being baked in the oven. I seasoned it with salt and pepper, some garlic (because I like garlic), a tad bit of olive oil and wrapped it up and tossed it in there. The only thing is...umm, well, I couldn't get the tail fin off because my knives are crappy, and the tinfoil wasn't long enough, so it's sticking out of the pan. Clearly, and this should be no surprise to you, this is an amateur job.

Hopefully, that won't hurt the cooking of the rest of the fish.

And for the first time, I touched the water that was the ocean. Salty water on my tongue.


And it just amazes me, the view from the shore of my melting ocean...

Labels: 'North', Arctic Circle, cooking, dinner, flowers, photographs, photography

...and your love was like a broken bottle.
yep, been slacking on the updating action. I can't remember if I mentioned this before, but I've become enamored with instant potatoes and fat Bing cherries. Not together, of course...but those are the two things that I've been subsisting on lately. It's just the way I eat, if left to my own devices. I would have had it for lunch today if I hadn't been invited to the DEW line, which is cool because they have an indoor smoking room. And tons of new guys that I haven't met before. Nice on the eyes, and it's not like I'm expected to make conversation. Or rather, I am...I just don't. I use the shield of shyness nearly everywhere I go.

I promised photos of the new bedroom. I didn't want to post any after awhile because it seemed like a trite thing to take pictures of, but here's one of the closet and window area.
I just love the angles of this place.

drawing circles in your concret, I will know your every move...
Sometimes, I crank the music up in my office while I'm typing away at whatever I'm working on. In the blandness of the afternoon light, my fingers are a stark colour against the black of the keyboard. It keeps my eyes moving. Makes me miss typewriters. Where your eyes had something to follow, back and forth. I wish I had a typewriter.

I will love you....I won't let go...
Anyway, I'd better get going. I'm planning a walk tonight, did I say that? I will post pictures when....I feel like it. heh.
G.

Broken Bottle - Pete YornUndercover - Pete Yorn

Labels: flowers, forgetfullness, forgot, hawksley workman, music, Nunavut, photographs, photography