works of wanderlust

Month: December 2021

  • Happy Things

    Compared to this time
    last year are you
    happier or sadder?

    the scent of freshly baked bread
    crisp autumn leaves cracking underfoot
    cuddles from an energetic dog
    grilled meat over an open fire
    fresh snowflakes reflected in my run light
    churning my own ice cream
    a freshly seasoned cast iron pan
    saturn aglow in the evening sky
    vaccinations
    beers shared with coworkers in the backyard
    runs through the rolling wilderness
    airline tickets
    looking across the mountains after a long climb
    watching the construction of a new ice rink
    games played with friends
    completed projects at work
    watercolour paints on coarse paper
    a new leaf appearing on a houseplant
    hugs from my daughter
    text messages from old friends
    freshly waxed cross country skis
    spicy mustard
    words shared on a not-so-new-anymore blog

  • I Heart Sourdough

    Describe your 2021 in food.

    I had a lengthy post planned about all the different ways in which this blog has forced me to think about how I cook and what I eat and the enjoyment I get out of both those things…

    …then this morning I sliced open a freshly baked loaf of sourdough bread and saw an air bubble in the shape of a heart, and I couldn’t really top that with any more words.

    So.

    That about sums it up I think.

  • Froze Up

    About thirty six hours before I sat down to pen this post the city where I live got hit by a small ice storm.

    I mean, technically, the weather service called it “freezing rain” but after an hour of that particular meteorological event (whatever one chooses to call it) every outdoor surface had been covered by a thin, slippery sheen of pebbled ice that sent traffic into chaos, all but shut down the city, and left people like me walking their dogs shuffling along the glassy sidewalks barely able to maintain a vertical posture.

    At lunch (when it was a bit brighter and bit warmer, but not any less icy) I took a photo of one of the boulders in a nearby park while I took the dog on yet another shuffling scoot around the same.

    It was as if someone had encased the meter-wide stone in a perfectly form-fitting layer of cold transparent glass, sealing the stone into protective, icy case visible from the outside but unexpectedly cold and smooth to the touch.

    What is your perspective on the culture of 2021?

    For some reason when I sat down this evening to write a response to my daily December question, I thought of this stone covered in ice, locked away in a little bubble of glass-like protection, visible to anyone who walks by but isolated and encased in something that prevents, at least without some kind of force, change or interaction from the outside.

    My whole world was covered in a sheet of ice for the last day and a half.

    Everywhere I look there is a slippery film that lets me look through and under and into the world beneath. But all I can do is shuffle along and feel the cold, slippery icy that separates me from what I really want to connect with.

    Funny, but the whole world — friends, family, people, everything — feels a bit like that these days, too.

  • That [insert adjective here] Guy

    Earlier this evening we went for a winter holiday walk with a small group of friends. A couple streets tucked away in various places around the city decorate to the nines and attract curious light-lookers to wander and glimpse the decorations.

    It wasn’t my idea but I organized it.

    I organize a lot of things for my group of friends.

    Without asking how would
    people describe you in 2021?

    I’d describe myself as mostly modest, but if you asked a dozen or so people who like lacing up and running local trails all year long I think they’d probably describe me as the guy that keeps it all together.

    It’s a small thing. I set up run plans. I plot summer adventures. I make sure there are occasional social events. I’ve organized snowshoe outings. I’ve ensured that numerous beer nights have seen maximum raised glasses. I have everyone’s birthday in my calendar.

    Small things. Itty bitty. Clinging firmly to a tiny group of friends and holding it all together.

    Small, but maybe important. At least that’s how I’d like to think they’d describe it.

  • Legacy

    I’ve never grown older before, so forgive me if you have and I’m just being obvious.

    The older I get the more I think about the balance between the entropic impermanence of all things and the human urge to continue creating and planning and hoping in the face of that impermanence.

    I think it is all twisted up in this idea of legacy.

    What excited you most in 2021?

    I thought about legacy a lot this past year, and when I paused to reflect on what gave me back some of that hope and excitement during the past twelve (give or take) months, this idea of legacy kept popping into my head.

    I’ve had no shortage of unplanned opportunities since starting a blog called “the cast iron guy” to explain my connection to that particular style of cookware, particularly since I can’t fallback to a simpler explanation such as “I sell it” (which I don’t) or “I collect it” (which my wife may argue is where I’m trending but my collection is not worth writing home about) or “I’m an expert in it” (which would be a stretch to sincerely claim.)

    As I’ve often alluded to, occasionally openly written about, this whole “cast iron guy” idea strays into a universe where I adore all things ferrous, but is actually more of a clue to an overarching philosophy of lifestyle that I’ve been trying to embrace more fulsomely: uncomplicated things, life lived, and a mindset that reflects the philosophical practicality of well-seasoned cast iron frying pan, enduring, simple, down-to-earth & extremely useful, as I write in my snippet.

    It’s also deeply entrenched with the idea of legacy.

    Instilling in my daughter a legacy tied to objects like cookware and sourdough starters.

    Building a legacy of lifestyle through travel, exploration and curiosity.

    Maintaining a legacy of worldliness and environmental stewardship.

    Leaving behind a legacy of ideology and an approach to the universe.

    I think as we get older we may not all panic about the dwindling time we have left, but in some small way many of us start putting more effort into shaping what will remain behind when that time dwindles to nothing.

    Maybe it’s imprecise to say I got excited about legacy this past year. Though it is clear that I thought and wrote and waxed poetic quite a lot about this idea of legacy, even if those thoughts were not strictly labelled as such.