singe

This from our walk last week, in which there were many bugs and not many good pictures.

I've only ever seen this particular bit of flora once or twice before but given this year's this-year-ness, they're everywhere. They're also much easier to photograph now that they've gotten a bit...crispy, white-on-white not being my camera's favorite thing to shoot.

It is no coincidence that I'm also feeling a bit...crispy these days. Stupid first-cold-of-the-fall.

In other news, the HOT AIR blog will soon be whirling away in service of THIN AIR, the Winnipeg International Writers Festival. I've got a shiny new template, a fresh URL, and 3/5ths of last year's blogging crew.

I won't be quite as involved in the blog as in years past but couldn't quite give it up for lent.

So far, I'm planning to take more portraits of writers' hands, primarily because I'm fascinated by the role that our flesh and bones plays in getting a story onto the page but also because it's easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.

I'm also interested in find out how a Wednesday Poetry Bash differs from a Saturday Poetry Bash.

A part of me wants to shout: Heresy! Treason! And a part of me says...why not? It'll give me more time to secure that nifty Bliss Carman ring, that's for sure...but it seems as though its winner, Linda Frank, has slender hands, which is no good for me.

Maybe next year's winner will have man-hands, like me, or, better yet, be a ring-hating man.

Heh.