Chocolate Redemption

Weeks ago, Rob and I were invited to have dinner at the home of one of Rob's colleagues.  We later confirmed the plans for tonight and offered to bring dessert.  In anticipation of this, we'd already gone by the store a few days ago and picked up the ingredients for Moosewood's incredible Vegan Chocolate Cake...yes, that's right: a vegan creation that's as delectable as any reg'lar chocolate cake you can dream up!  The recipe promised to be quick and simple--even better--so just for kicks, we decided to make it a double decker and use a chocolate orange glaze (a recipe found in Moosewood Restaurant New Classics) as both a filler between layers and a decorative mess on top.

We set to work early, passed the time in between around a scrabble board (I won by the way: 314 to 298:), and took a quick lunch break during which I whipped up a scrumptuous wild rice and sausage version of Dad's classic "Rice Stuff."  I think Rob and I both surprised ourselves by how well we collaborated on this little venture.  Rob was brilliant with his parchment-paper origami (parchment paper works REALLY well for getting cakes out of pans without anything sticking), and I turned out to be the master refiner of the fresh-orange-zest-infused bitter-chocolate glaze.  After a dusting of powdered sugar, and some attempted artsiness with our remaining orange slices, here is the result...

Don't worry...we'll also be bringing vanilla ice cream.  I guess that spoils its vegan-ness, but we worried our hosts might be overwhelmed by such a chocolatey monstrosity, and would appreciate a bit of tempering on the side.

I can't WAIT for dinner tonight!

Half Full...

Three nights ago, Rob and I made pasta and enjoyed the warm Ohio evening picnicking in our big new backyard.  Rob had set his usual glass of bubbly water out on the table and we watched as the sun sent playful reflections and shadows out over its surface.  "That would make a great picture!" I exclaimed as I ran back inside to get my camera.

I had arrived in Oberlin the day before, exhausted after a three day drive from the International Music Camp, but relieved to be with Rob again and excited to begin my life afresh in this beautiful little college town.  During the last leg of my trip I drove north from Columbus and passed through quaint villages and lush rolling fields just as the sun was setting.  Everything was lit with the hale glow of late summer and my insides were churning with a blush of anticipation.  "My new home is gorgeous!" I thought "I can't wait to explore!"

For the next year we'll be living in/caring for the home of another professor who is on sabbatical.  The place is lovely.  With walls covered in artwork and exotic memorabilia adorning each room, it's a space that inspires both comfort and creativity.  We've been asked to be extremely careful with the wooden floors and furniture, so I've had to check my casual living habits a bit and make sure to bring a coaster with me wherever I go, but that's a small sacrifice to pay for the privilege of such nice living arrangements.  

We're still unpacking a bit, so I apologize for the clutter, but here's a view of the dining room...

...the 3rd floor attic studio I've claimed for my own (check out that windowseat with a view!)...

...the spacious front porch...

...and the long wooded backyard, whose boundary stretches beyond the furthest trees pictured here...

Especially when compared to the tiny, and very noisy studio I had in Evanston, this place is paradise!

Now that I'm more or less settled in, I spend my days searching for work and slowly reintroducing my chops to the horn.   I've been told that, when done right, an employment search is basically equivalent in time and energy spent to a full time job.  Though I've already submitted about dozen applications, I have yet to secure an interview, but I suppose this is to be expected and I'm trying not to let the process discourage me.

In between job searches I jog upstairs for mini practice sessions.  At the moment my mouthpiece still feels like a foreign object and I sound a bit like most 7th graders...but again, after a month away from the instrument this is to be expected.  I've never taken so much time off from playing, but I've been told by numerous colleagues that this kind of "reboot", when approached with patience and intelligence, can actually be quite healthy.  If there's anything I do have in abundance these days it's time, so now I'm just relying on my drive and eager work ethic to carry me through the slow process of growth and learning.  I hope to be playing well enough in a couple weeks to feel comfortable performing publicly and, ideally, begin recruiting some private students.

Two nights ago, Rob and I went out for Thai food (which I haven't had in months) in the town of Avon, a few miles northish of Oberlin, and then capped off the evening with a sunset stroll along our new great lake...Lake Erie.  Though it felt odd to be watching the sun set over a large body of water after having spent two years watching it rise over Lake Michigan's eastern profile, the experience was no less satisfying.

It's good to be here.  Opportunities are on the horizon.  It's only a matter of time...

Tripping

The 28th was my birthday.  And what better way to spend it than the most complicated and exhausting camp changeover of the summer?

Most weeks, the final band concert of the session takes place on Saturday afternoon.  The kids perform, pack up their stuff, and go home with their parents, leaving us staff a blissful (mostly) chaos-free evening to relax and regather our wits.  On Sunday morning we all sleep in till brunch at 10:30 and await the new batch of campers that show up for registration around noon.  That Sunday night is always a marathon of preparing music for the following morning's rehearsals--we might be up until midnight or later making sure everything is ready--but at least we would have had the evening/morning quasi break in which to recoup some energy.

On the 28th, however, the final band/orchestra concerts happened as usual, but THEN, adult campers arrived, were checked in, and sent to rehearsal sites at 4:30 expecting music, chairs, stands, percussion equipment to be there waiting for them.  The orchestra concert ran long, so the latter 3 items were still in transit when the first rehearsals were supposed to start (the equipment managers have the least downtime of anyone here).  After we got a start tearing down orchestra music, I had to run straight over to Rindt Hall with my crate of music for advanced band.  And of course, because many adult campers don't register till the day they come, there were a bunch of additional folders to be made, large-print copies to be provided, and non-standard instruments to be taken care of...I got a LOT of exercise running back and forth filling specialized orders right up until the final notes of the rehearsal sounded.

No downtime here!

Fortunately, after all the madness from the condensed changeover had subsided (around 8:00 that evening), I had the freedom to load up my little ipod shuffle (thanks Patrick:) with music, and take a restful stroll over to the peace gardens.

For a variety of reasons, not the least of which being that I did my final NU bibliography project on "sound art" (a provocative, philosopically challenging, and utterly fascinating topic), I have been dipping my toe into the "ambient music" genre.  By "ambient music" I do not mean the insipid, formulaic, dumbed-down grocery store/elevator music that might initially come to mind for you, but rather, serious compositions that explore (either musically or even just sonically) what can be done with sound in how it relates to space, and which employs a slow--often minimalistic--approach to how it evolves over long stretches of time.

When I go back and read that last sentence, my eyes roll.  It's vague pretension stems from the defensive stance I feel the need to assume when admitting I enjoy an oft-ridiculed and hugely misunderstood genre.  I'll stop apologizing for my taste and just give you a list of the specific selections I included on my playlist that evening:

Aphex Twin: Selected Ambient Works vol. II 
Brian Eno: Ambient 4: On Land
Vangelis: Alpha (not really in the same class as these others, but instead just one of my favorite--of the non-orchestral--selections from the Cosmos soundtrack)
John Cage: In a Landscape  

While indulging in this unconventional soundtrack (and drenched in bug-spray) I wandered up the road to the gardens--my steps keeping time with occasional rhythmic interludes, and my knotted attentions expanding into the surrounding woods.  It occurred to me that I should probably be enjoying the natural turtle-mountain soundscape instead of plugging myself in to an artificial experience.  From time to time I took out my earbuds and paused to listen to the whir of many dozens of dragonfly wings, bird calls echoing across the distance, and the hush of air rustling through the trees.

When I reached the road's final ascending bend into the garden proper, I got a whiff of fresh-cut hay.  Fields of wildflowers had been mowed into giant cylindrical bales.  They lay scattered over the rolling terrain and offset the geometry of the emerging peace towers to lend an air of surreality to the landscape.

With my mind under the influence of hypnotic soundscapes, my imagination came to life.  My senses seemed simultaneously heightened and dulled, and--lit by the glow of the setting sun--my ascent to the towers transformed and prolonged itself.  I felt as though I were living a dream of ancient childhood.  The age and space of things seemed tangible and I was reminded of similarly transcendent impressions I'd had while hiking alone in the mountains and deserts of Utah.

The sun was setting...

The loons were calling...

And I was definitely tripping!

No drugs required.

I know I sound a little over-the-top here, but I love moments like these.  Illusory or not, they feel eternal and deep.  I feel connected to the land.  I am lonely while blissfully solitary, simultaneously yearning and sated.  My spirit airs out like sheets on a clothesline.

With the sun firmly beyond the horizon I figured I should probably make my way back to camp.  

In the diminishing light Brian Eno's "On Land" sounded more sinister...a good imagination can take the mind in so many directions! A deer bounded across the road in front of me.  Bats soon joined the patrolling dragonflies for a feast of swarming mosquitos (thank GOODNESS my bug spray still seemed to be working!)

Sunsets

Sunsets here are regularly as spectacular as sunrises over Lake Michigan.  Tonight I went on a Wal-Mart snack run (yes, that's right...I actually drove over 30 miles to Bottineau in order to get munchies...and from Wal-Mart no less! What is my world coming to?!)  Anyway, it turned out to be a beautiful drive.  The setting sun bloomed through smokey air and well placed clouds, and I could not resist pulling off to the side of the road to capture the scene...

A couple weeks ago I was out after the evening activity chasing down missing band folders.  Normally this is nothing but a hassle, but that evening a storm was rolling in and the sunset-lit clouds were incredible...

The colors seemed right out of a Maxfield Parrish painting, and lightning strikes illuminating their shadowed underbellies added to the dramatic effect.  

Juvenilia

After finishing "listener" yesterday, I was left feeling underwhelmed by the work and a little empty, but still itching with creative desire.  Faced with yet another blank sheet of paper, I did what I often do these days to distract myself and started playing with my camera and past photos I'd taken...hoping to ignite some sort of spark.

There are only so many things you can do to a photo in preview, iphoto, and Word (that's right...I'm so unwilling to spend money on a real photo-editing program that I just stretch the limits of these less exciting options), and because I was starting with pictures taken with a rather sub-standard camera anyway, my optimistic fiddling still seemed to come up short.  To me the results were contrived and kitschy--and even more so because achieving them took so little effort on my part.  What was even worse, in my mind, was that I just seemed to be endlessly rehashing my old works...stretching thin what substance those efforts may have once had into pallid attempts at depth and originality.

Somehow I still found myself liking these digital doodles...and then blushing with embarrassment because of it.  I felt I could see myself as another more authentic artist might: a zealous aspirant whose side-tracked talents had never progressed beyond the promise of mildly interesting juvenilia...an aging wannabe trying to pass off bored electronic fiddling as some sort of brilliance.

Though I've had a few public shows in the past, and I always love to hear that others appreciate works I've done, my prime creative motivation has always been personal expression.  I feel that the end results turn out better when I'm not concerned about how others view my works.  Such an attitude provides a safe stage upon which to experiment, fail, succeed, and try-try-again to my heart's content.  As I age, however, I find this unselfconsciousness is increasingly harder to maintain.

Still, the creative urge burns on: whether--at the end of the night--fortune smiles and I'm able to complete something I consider a personal masterpiece, or I only end up writing mediocre poetry superimposed upon old photos overlaid in Microsoft Word.

...Try, try, again...

Listener

It's my day off.

I finished a sketch I'd been picking away at for a few days.

Don't know quite what it's supposed to be, but I was listening to natural soundscape recordings and a Bulgarian Women's choir when I started...and then a few episodes of Selected Shorts and The Moth to finish up.

I'm not entirely sure why, but I think it's called "listener."

Peace Garden Photo Tour

Yesterday was my day off.  It was badly needed.  In the evening I went to the Peace Gardens with my cousin Alice (who works at IMC as an equipment manager), and spent a couple hours taking pictures together.  Her camera is MUCH nicer than mine, but I think I still got a few interesting shots.

The Peace Gardens straddle the border between the U.S. and Canada: the longest undefended border in the world. 

There are numerous fountains and well tended flower gardens...

...though a few weeds still manage to poke through here and there.  I loved the way this spider stretched out its legs in front and behind as if to mimic the appearance of his perch.

The soaring cement forms of the peace towers cap the westernmost edge of the gardens.  From a distance (as in the garden picture above), they remind me of the "two towers" of the old world trade center, while up close they are majestic and striking...

During sunset, they can be unforgettable...

Because the sun rises so early here I've missed my usual sunrise walks, but we were fortunate last night to be treated to one of North Dakota's spectacular sunsets...

2 little miracles

Underneath the eaves of the Alme Center--the building in which the brand-new-fancy-schmancy IMC library is housed--live a number of swallow families in their characteristically built mud nests.  About a week ago, Kaytee (one of the other librarians) found that three of the babies had fallen to the sidewalk.  She called me over with a distressed look on her face and pointed out their crumpled little bodies all huddled together in a pitiful lump of flesh and pinfeathers.  Though all were alive, they were young enough that none of their eyes had opened and one seemed severely injured.  It had been a long way for them to fall.  My heart broke.  I didn't think they had much hope of surviving, but to make sure they'd at least be able to avoid being carelessly trampled by choir-week campers, I carefully picked them up and moved them over to an inconspicuous spot away from the sidewalk.  If I could have figured out what and how to feed them I might have found a box or something at least moderately protected in which to house them, but I have neither the knowledge or the skill to care for baby swallows, so I just had to hope that their parents were still around somewhere and that they'd eventually find and care for their misplaced young.

The first night I left the babies alone I figured it was likely they'd be dead by morning--either from the effects of their traumatic displacement, or from the jaws of some nighttime carnivore.  The next morning brought mixed news.  The one who'd seemed more injured hadn't made it...but the other two were hanging on!  An even more encouraging sign was that their parents were furious with me!  As I picked up the babies and moved them to a more sheltered spot out of the sun, mom and dad swallow swooped around my head chirping furiously.  What a relief to know that they had not been abandoned and would at least be fed and moderately protected.  Another bit of good fortune was that the weather has been warm and dry all week--nearly perfect conditions for giving the little ones as good a chance as any.

Unfortunately, a few days after the initial fall, 2 more young swallows tumbled out of the unlucky nest. Neither survived.  I moved their bodies off the sidewalk and rested all my hopes on their two siblings.  With their eyes now open and mature feathers quickly coming in they were becoming more and more adorable every day.

Here's their progress as of yesterday morning...

The larger of the two has even started to flap his wings a bit.  It's only a matter of time before they're both strong enough to begin venturing out into the wide world beyond the library.  I am amazed by their will to survive and by the tenacity of their parents...though I do look forward to not being dive-bombed every time I leave the building!