Is it Art or is it Nature?
I was walking home from class on Monday and looked up. I actually looked at the trees lining the street a block from Victoria School, perhaps because something colourful appeared in the corner of my eye.
It was a bird’s nest and right then and there I made a mental note to myself to take my camera on Tuesday morning so that I could take some pictures.
It was then (Tuesday morning) that I noticed it was not one nest in one tree on Broadway but many nests in many trees from Five Corners to Oskayak High School.
I wondered what this was all about.
I postulated that this was a Victoria School project; something to do with nature & Spring & birds.
Some of the nests were very bright like this pink & yellow bowl shaped nest.
They appeared to be made out of yarn.
I wondered if this was another form of yarnbombing; some local trees had been dressed up in scarves this last winter.
Perhaps a Bluebird family would like this blue nest for their home.
Or perhaps it could become a cradle for some baby blue robin eggs.
Isn’t it amazing what you might find when you look up.
You might see nests. You might see spirals. You might see beads.
And, on occasion, you might see birds.
Or bees.
Or squirrels.
Or a pink feather blowing gently in the breeze.
Though not today, today it is raining.
It has rained most of this week.
I have been carrying my umbrella.
I was glad I was carrying an umbrella.
Not just because it protected me from the rain.
But also because I could use it to reach the nests.
Most of the nests were way up high; I couldn’t reach them even when I stood on tippy-toes.
I wanted to see one up close.
I wanted to hold it in my hands.
I wanted to see what the nests were made of.
If the nests were made of yarn, the birds could pick them apart and use the material to augment their nest building.
Instead of dull brown nests we would see nests infused with colour.
This time of year, I like to put out strands of my hair for the birds to use in their nest building.
Hair and yarn makes their nests warm, cozy, bright and colourful.
I couldn’t knock a nest off with my umbrella.
It looks like my curiosity would never be satisfied.
But then, on Saturday, I was at the grocery store and saw that there was a nest that I could reach and untie from the tree.
The nest I liberated from the tree is made of wire, perhaps like this one (scroll to the bottom).
When I got home and did a quick web search.
The nests are Art and a school project by Monique Martin.
Here are pictures of the tree installation and the exhibit.
I liked the nests better when I thought they were made of yarn.
Yarn nests could be re-purposed by nature – the birds could pick them apart and they would eventually decompose.
Wire nests are just Art.
Yarn nests would have been both Art and Nature.
Bear in the City – Beware!
Not far from where I are there is a bear.
Not a brown bear or a grizzly bear.
I’ve lived close enough to the wilderness to know not to get too close to an actual living, breathing bear.
Unlike Kathy, who blogs from Lake Superior, I don’t get to see much wildlife here in the city.
My bear is greyish black with expressive glass eyes and over-looks a very busy street.
S/he is never bored as there is always so much to watch for and look at.
S/he enjoys dressing up.
The house she guards probably has children living in it as the front windows are an ever-changing art gallery.
(Music here)
The other day I met a bear,
Up in the woods a way up there!
He looked at me
(He looked at me)
I looked at him
(I looked at him)
He sized up me
(He sized up me)
I sized up him
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
Where have you been?
Over the mountains -
Such things I’ve seen!
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
What have you done?
Eaten blueberries
Made ripe by the sun.
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
What have you found?
Ice-cold spring water
Deep from the ground.
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
What do you dream?
Sweet tasting salmon
Swimming upstream.
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
Where do you creep?
Into my dark cave
Alone, let me sleep!
If you go out in the woods today
You’re sure of a big surprise.
If you go out in the woods today
You’d better go in disguise.
For every bear that ever there was
Will gather there for certain, because
Today’s the day the teddy bears have their picnic.
The Bear Went Over the Mountain
The bear went over the mountain,
The bear went over the mountain,
The bear went over the mountain,
To see what he could see.
And what do you think he saw?
And what do you think he saw?
The other side of the mountain,
The other side of the mountain,
The other side of the mountain,
Was all that he could see.
Big paws,
Big black nose,
Stubby tail,
And growl he goes.
What is he?
Well, who knows?
He sleeps all winter
When it snows.
Winter Shines
It’s officially Winter: the groundhog has made his prediction. According to Gainer the Gopher, we Saskatchewanians will soon see the end of winter. Though, honestly, here in Saskatchewan, no matter what the groundhog says we know Winter will last at least another six to eight weeks. Snow on my birthday, at the beginning of April, is common.
Which is why, perhaps, we are fans of the winter festival. What else is there to do as Winter drags on but revel in the bliss of all that is divine about this sparkling, cold season?
In Saskatoon, WinterShines 2012 is running from Jan 28th to Feb 12th…
For the last couple of years, the festival center has been at the Farmers Market site. Ice sculptures abound. I’m not a big fan of ice sculptures. I prefer snow sculptures as they mold better and it is easier to tell what they are. Plus, ice sculptures seem more hoity-tooty. Aren’t these google images, of snow sculptures, amazing?
As for these Birds of Prey (my title for them), are they eagles or griffins? Labels would have been nice or the opportunity to get close enough to touch; I a fan of touch and close-up photographs. I like to zoom in and try to capture the tiniest details (impossible to do at this distance with my point & shoot camera).
I’m assuming this is a duck or perhaps a Canadian Goose. I’m sure it’s even more nondescript this weekend (I took these pictures last Saturday when the ice sculptures were newly carved). We’ve had a week of warm, melting inducing temperatures since then.
What I liked best about photographing the sculptures was trying to catch the reflections from the every changing spotlights. Here we have blue…
The sculpture, I think, is a jousting knight which has no Saskatchewan connection. If you’re going to do an ice sculpture for our Wintershines shouldn’t you try to connect with us?
Here we have reflections both Orange & Yellow verging towards the Tangerine perhaps. And who is this woman supposed to be or is she a mermaid? I can’t tell.
I’m a little crabby today, aren’t I?
I’ll try not to be so crabby.
I loved this idea, coloured children’s blocks carved out of the ice. The children loved it too. It was very hard to get a picture that showcased the colourful blocks as they were consistently being used.
This is my second favourite picture. Sun. Sun. Shiny, happy sun. Saskatoon Shines is one of our local mascots. Sun was also hard to get a picture of as it was always moving and surrounded by children. Doesn’t it make you want to smile back at it? Isn’t Sun looking so warm and happy?
I think crabby me is gone.
Go out, enjoy Winter Festivals where ever you are and don’t be wary to visit Saskatoon in every delightful season.
I’m just glad we don’t even consider a polar bear swim.
Signs of The Apocalypse
I went for a walk yesterday evening.
I don’t usually do evening walks.
I like to get my exercise obligations done early.
So, the usual habit is to get up, do my walk, have breakfast and then get on with the rest of my day.
I’m thinking this is the plan to stick to, considering what I encountered last evening.
Zombies…
Slightly aware zombies (they payed attention to the traffic light before crossing).
Wouldn’t want to run over a mob of zombies.
What is a group of zombies called?
Plague, I like plague.
Here is a plague of zombies; it includes a bride, a clown and a soldier.
I wonder where they all came from.
Zombies on Broadway.
No, not that Broadway.
That Broadway would have singing & dancing zombies.
These zombies slowly shuffled along.
What was their destination?
Where were they going?
Would they all get there?
Not if the littlest zombie hunter had any say in the matter.
Interesting titles for children’s books…
The Littlest Zombie…
The Littlest Zombie Hunter.
Oh no, they’ve spotted us.
Run.
Today’s post is brought to you by a fan of the Dark Bridges Film Festival.
If I weren’t unemployed, I so would of been there all weekend!
Summer in the City
Once the ribbons and festival garbage cans start to crop up along the river bank I know Summer in the City has begun.
I’m not a big fan of summer; summer tends to always be tooo hot. I love it when the temperatures drop over night, to the single digits, it helps me sleep better.
I love the Farmers’ Market in the Summer. There is no taste like fresh peas and other vegetables straight from the garden. I don’t garden but my ancestors are farmers and gardeners. When I lived at home, as an adult, my mother gardened and I took care of the inside chores. I much prefer this arrangement over our childhood one where all of us were expected to garden and weed. I think mother thought because she loved it so much it must be fun. I don’t think I’ll ever find gardening FUN but I’ve grown to appreciate the rewards that labour brings.
Summer in the City means enjoying the Jazz festival. There are tons of free concert and I suppose, if one was persistent, one might bump into a star or two. These gophers were out frolicking with their pals while listening to the music.
Today is the first weekend of the Fringe. I always go to the Fringe but this year I am also volunteering which is turning out to be a ton of fun.
It’s only the first weekend of the festival, our August long weekend, and the crowds are not yet huge.
I watch the Oriental Dance group dance on the street every year thinking that it would be fun to join but I haven’t joined yet. I’m a slow adopter and a scarredy-cat.
Don’t the dancers look happy? They’re probably a great group and very open, don’t you think?
Summer is half over and I haven’t done half the things I wanted to.
Before I know it, it will be September and we will be ending the season with the Fireworks festival.
For your summer enjoyment here is some bonus nostalgic teenage music.
I hope your summer is marvelous and not seeming too short.
“Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.”
- Russel Baker
My Hometown
Today’s assignment comes to me via Kathy over at Upwoods. The challenge is originally from Scott Thomas over at Views Infinitum and it is Assignment 13: Hometown History.
I had to think about this one awhile; I read Kathy’s post the day she wrote it and only decided today to do the assignment. The problem was that I’m really not sure what I consider to be my hometown, right now. I could tell you about where I grew up or I could tell you about my city, the city that I’ve only been back living in for the last five years. Five years doesn’t seem to be enough time to be able to call somewhere your hometown. Though, according to the dictionary, I’m perfectly within my rights to do so.
home·town/
Noun: The town where one was born or grew up, or the town of one’s present fixed residence.
The complication, in my mind, is that I still consider myself unsettled. I’ve moved too much and lived too many places.
I never considered Montreal or Calgary to be my hometown because I was only there to go to school. I wasn’t even allowed to vote in Montreal even after I had lived there for six years because I was only a student.
I did not live in Winnipeg long enough. I was only there for a summer as I mooched off my stepmother’s relatives well I looked for a job. I have to have time to walk around a city to know it; once I know where this alley leads or how long it takes to walk from where I am to the downtown core then I can start to consider that this city might be my hometown.
I’ve been in and out of Saskatoon since I was thirteen and my eldest sister started University here. I lived here before and after I was married. I live here now. But I’m still not sure if it’s my hometown especially when I talk to co-workers who were born and raised in this city.
I wonder at what point in my life, I’ll feel like I’m truly and completely home.
Here in Canada, this weekend is Victoria Day weekend and I’ve actually got four days off to enjoy my city. I’ve gone walking every morning with camera in hand and this assignment in the back of my mind so today’s post will be very photo heavy. I hope you enjoy this tableau of my current hometown.
The district I live in is called Nutana and it is home to one of our older city streets – Broadway. It makes me smile to think that I live just off Broadway because of the New York connotations of that phrase.
Notice the ubiquitous 7-11 sign on the right.
Broadway use to be more low rent. The Salvation Army thrift store use to be here as well as my favourite hobby shop and a book store, where I was able to buy artistic colouring books for a dollar or two. The street is more artsy now, full of night clubs, high end shops and expensive free trade bastions.
I am close to the South Saskatchewan river and in-between two bridges (one unfortunately closed for rebuilding). The only steamboat accident we ever had is within walking distance.
There is history within history here.
This tribute to our pioneers was erected in 1952, a lifetime ago.
Walking in my neighbourhood, I am always aware of the passage of time. If time travel is merely stepping between dimensions, it would be so easy to do here.
My favourite antique shop resides within in the 100+ year old Empyreal Building. What I am coveting now are old oak library card catalogs – even though I have no idea what I would use all those drawers for.
Oskayak passes on traditions that are even older than the city; shouldn’t we all be listening to the wisdom of our elders.
This cafe is older than me. The original owners just sold and a new generation is redesigning the past for future generations to enjoy.
My sister shopped at this bakery when she went to university. She’s a grandmother now. I find that so hard to comprehend some days. If she’s an elder, am I an elder also?
Here is new Broadway where the old theatre competes with the new coffee house for prominence. I patronize both.
I love my neighbourhood with its mature trees and quirky shops. I think it very sad when developers cut down the trees to build houses. I love a neighbourhood where there are old trees for shade and climbing.
Don’t you just want to climb the tree, or build a tree-house, or just sit under one reading. Hug a tree today. You’ll both feel better!
My neighbourhood consists of artists, elders, environmentalists, families, old hippies, students and people like me who are never really sure in which category they belong.
Artist or Elder or Student?
Environmentalist or Hippie or Elder?
Hippie or Elder or Me?
Family or Artist?
Students or Environmentalists?
Family or Artist or Elder?
Environmentalist or Hippie or Family?
Elder or Environmentalist?
Hippie or Artist or Elder?
I walk around my neighbourhood looking at for sale signs. I could live here. I could live there. That Victorian is too big. That condo is too small. I feel like Goldilocks or the 3 little pigs building their houses of straw, wood and brick. This is my hometown. There is a lot of history here.
Dressing Denny
In my city there is an abundance of life-like statues. They sit upon horses, they feed chickens, they buy newspapers and they stand beside or run alongside the river bank. I almost expect them to call out a greeting as I hurry pass and I don’t think I’m the only one around with such a fanciful imagination.
There stands, close to where I work, the statue of Denny Carr. He was a local radio DJ for the radio station I’ve listened to since I was a teenager. My brother listened to a rock station out of Moose Jaw and the ongoing argument, in the car, was always over what station we would listen to. I was a little bit country and he was a little bit rock n’ roll. The final agreement was that who ever was driving got to choose the station. So I grew up exposed to many genres of music and still cultivate eclectic musical tastes.
Denny would jog along the Mewassin Trail every day and this is why his commemorative statue was placed there. You wonder why I choose to talk about this statue today, don’t you?
He’s very life-like, isn’t he? Kathy, over at Lake Superior Spirit, is hosting a gratitude challenge right now and this has made me consider the things around me that make me smile. This statue makes me smile. It brings forth old memories and happy times but that is not the only reason seeing it makes me smile.
We are a university town. Thus, a good portion of our population consists of young, transient students. Bored, young students looking to entertain and amuse themselves; playing pranks on each other and the community at large.
I walk along the riverbank on a regular basis and never know when Mr. Carr will have changed his clothes.
Some one is playing dress-up. Some one is missing playing with paper dolls. Why suspect university students? Well, the sweat shirt above is in the university colours, green and white. Plus, the statue is at the bottom of the University Bridge and therefore is only a few blocks from the university itself. Also, who else would have the time, infinite patience and ironic sense of humour to pull this off on a semi-regular basis?
Can you imagine how complicated dressing a statue would be?
I’ve gotten up close and can tell you that none of the clothing I have pictures of is torn in the dressing process. The clothes are all large in size, of course. I’d like to try dressing Denny one day but I am not sneaky enough.
It would be a bit like dressing a reluctant toddler or a corpse. The button-down work shirt would be the easiest to put on; get the arms through the sleeves and after that it’s all smooth sailing.
It’s a little bit like Halloween; rearrange the shirt, add a hat and you have a totally new costume. I wonder if Denny ever worked construction. I’m betting yes as most men here in Saskatchewan tried construction work at least once, way back in my youth, in the dark ages.
Denny was a jogger. The plague, beside this statue, proclaims:
Denny Carr was the morning voice of radio in
Saskatchewan for nearly forty years.He volunteered his time on a daily basis to
help improve the lives of others.On any given day in any season, you could see
Denny jogging past this very spot.This statue is a tribute to the special friend
Who touched us all.What have you done for someone today?
Can’t you just feel/see the perspiration soaking into the muscle shirt above?
The organization that Denny is best remembered for founding, here in my city, is Secret Santa.
So, I leave you with a final fitting clothing change.
What made you smile today?
A Tangle of Cords
Winter has returned. This is winter in Saskatchewan; Friday I walked outside for over an hour and it felt like spring was just around the corner and today I needed a scarf and longed, once again, for warm underwear.
I could quote temperatures and wind chills but my mind confuses between Celsius and Fahrenheit and which is really, really cold. Really, really cold is impossible to describe. You can only experience it and believe me you don’t want to experience it. Plus, of course, really, really cold is relevant. My Saskatchewan really, really cold does not compare with my sister’s experience of living on a northern Canadian bay in Nunavut really, really cold.
Saskatchewan cold is going to bed with the river flowing, the day warm and waking up to this:
Saskatchewan cold is sledding on Christmas warm and cuddling in front of a fire on New Years Eve because only the brave or foolish go out to party in that darn cold.
Saskatchewan cold is the river frozen solid one day, holes appearing the next, then only half frozen, then a cold snap hits and everything starts freezing all over again!
Saskatchewan winter is living with a tangle of cords everywhere. Electric cords grow over night on the bare streets and in alley ways. Those of us walking have to remember to both look up and down so that we are not tripped or strangled by these strange, new vines.
Saskatchewan winters are ripe with cords. There are electric cords and cords of wood. There are bright yellow, orange and blue electric cords; enough to populate a Dr. Seuss story. Red Cord, Blue Cord, One Cord, Two Cords.
I’m thankful that I don’t have to chop and stack cords of wood the way my grandparents had to. I’m thankful for warmer houses and electric lights, for blankets and library books. Sometimes, I’m even thankful for winter because it gives me the excuse to stay in and do nothing expect read and watch insanely, stupid television shows.
My mother is taking her first holiday south for part of January. I’m not a big fan of too hot so I’m not sure if I’ll ever get to the point of going south every winter.
I’m of hearty stock. I can take everything Winter decides to throw at me. I am from Saskatchewan.
Here, we barbecue on the balcony/deck/in the back yard just to spite Old Man Winter. Here, we enjoy our walks in the park during every season.
My Other Home Town
The older I get the more elusive the idea of home is. It is a concept that gets harder and harder for me to grasp, to express and define. Where is my home? Is it where I live now or is it where I come from? Both ideals have their own complications. As an adult, I have resided in 26 places (houses & apartments) in 7 different cities, in 4 provinces and two countries (Canada & Germany – which I remembered not at all). That’s a lot of home to define.
I envy those who have lived in the same residence from birth to death. Honestly, I both envy & am wary of such people. I can understand both the pleasure and dread that arises from this situation. There is a sort of comfort and fear in the idea of having your home never change and of living with the same people (more or less) one’s whole life.
The dictionary defines home, thusly, as a person’s native place; in one’s own house or place of residence, or in one’s own town or country. The talk is of ownership, of belonging, but what if you feel like you don’t belong anywhere and thus aren’t allowed to own any piece of where you come from. What do you do when you feel poor and property-less?
I’m pretty sure that I will never own a piece of property or buy a house. Thus, will my home always be ultimately someone else’s; a place where I live for now. A place that I can not paint or change in any major way. I would love an orange and black Halloween wall, a sunny yellow kitchen or a mellow indigo bedroom. However, it seems I may always be doomed to boring white or pale beige apartment walls.
Is home only:
- A place where one lives; a residence,
- The physical structure within which one lives, such as a house or apartment,
- A dwelling place together with the family or social unit that occupies it; a household?
Or is it so much bigger than all that?
As far as home towns go, emotionally, I have two. These consist of the small Saskatchewan town I grew up in and the ever evolving, way too touristy, resort town of Canmore, Alberta. Ever since I was a teenager, Canmore has been, is, my second home, my other home, because both places have equal status in shaping who I am and who I am still becoming.
Two weeks ago I told you about my roadtrip to go see my father and step-mom. The trip took me home – to my other home town. My eldest sister doesn’t consider it her other home town and I’m pretty sure my youngest half-sister would consider it her only home town. I, on the other hand, have trouble delineating one home town from the other as both are important to my sense of place, of home. There is no line of demarcation marking home.
I have spent a lot of my life exploring and living in both these places, but not only these places (see above).
When I first lived there Canmore was little more than a small town just barely removed from its past as a mining community and then the Olympics came and everything grew like stink-weed. I prefer the small 70s town to this modern tourist mecca. I even prefer the old trailer park I lived and played in here to the new, probably over-priced condos that are springing up where I and my half-siblings roamed.
I’ll admit to being old fashioned and anti-progressive a lot of the time. (But not always – what would I do without blogging and the internet?) :-0
Home. What is home? Where is home?
Home is not where you live but where they understand you. ~Christian Morgenstern
Home is knowing where the water glasses are kept. Home is opening the right cupboard door because this is where they’ve always been and always will be. Home is being allowed to snoop in the refrigerator and getting my own ice rather than being waited on. Home is my step-mother’s smile, my father’s bragging, my sister’s laughter, and a welcoming hug from a brother I haven’t visited with in years. Home is remembering where to turn to get somewhere even though you haven’t walked this way in ten years. Home is remembering where the library is and was and that the old building captured your heart more than this modern new building does.
With all the changes and moves in my past and in my current life, I think that no matter where I am home will always be being able to find the library. No matter where home was or is, there must always be access to a library nearby.
“I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library” – Jorge Luis Borges
Home is, for me, “une immense bibliotheque.”
A Storybook Christmas
November 27, 2011 at 8:15 am (Book Commentary, My City) (books, christmas, decorating, Festival of Trees, holidays, Saskatchewan, Saskatoon, Scrooge, Suess, Western Development Museum)
I was here last Tuesday…
Every year, the Saskatoon City Hospital is supported by the Festival of Trees which is hosted by the Western Development Museum.
I don’t get to go every year. The festival runs for a week for Sunday to Saturday and unfortunately last year, due to working and the extreme cold, I didn’t get there.
Not that I minded, very much, because the trees do get to look very similar after awhile.
I’ve narrowed my 200 pictures of the 80 displays down to 16 pictures of 10 trees that I wish to showcase.
First up is the Hug Tree; it makes me smile. Honestly, I do want to hug it, especially the bear on top.
Speaking of toppers – isn’t this Lego angel the cutest thing. It’s perfect for a household full of little kids. Though, the young ones I know would daily be rearranging the Lego ornaments into new configurations.
There were the ubiquitous pink trees. If I remember correctly, this was a Barbie themed tree.
Of course, the Disney Princesses made an appearance or two (or three).
There was a Nutcracker tree. I love the army of mice (but then, I Like Mice).
There was a blue Polar Bear tree based on the Polar Express book.
There was the ever present Riders’ tree – they’ve had a rough year.
There was a fantastical, delightful, whimsical Seuss tree.
If you bought it, you got the books as well. Yes, all 80 displays were for sale; a quick, but not cheap way to decorate for the holidays. My favourite trees were too expensive for unemployed me to even think about buying. I’m not sure if I’d buy a pre-decorated tree even if I had the money (which does go to support a good cause). I mean, where’s the fun in that? The best part of the holidays is doing things, like decorating & baking, yourself.
My favourite tree was the Ebeneezer Scrooge tree. I loved the Victorian feel, the details true to the story, and the whole overall gold and white colour theme.
Look closely at the ledger; there is Scrooge with his quill pen keeping exact track of where his money is.
If you start at the beginning, the scroll tells us the story of Scrooge and Marley and the Christmas haunting. Did the ribbon come like that or did one of our meticulous decorators sit down and copy the words out by hand?
I also loved the Saskatchewan tree. It reminded me of Christmases spent on the farm, of quiet times and simple pleasures.
Of small towns and skating and sledding parties just before school broke for the holidays. I wonder, sometimes, if anything really got learned that week before school closed for the holidays.
I took this picture for my friends that curl. I don’t curl; I make it a point not to participate in sports I don’t understand. For a great Canadian curling movie, go and watch Men with Brooms. Funny, funny, funny and oh so, Canadian!
The haystack, below the tree, needs more cows and pigs and chickens (and perhaps, sheep).
I had high hopes for this year’s theme; A Storybook Christmas. Surely, the trees would go beyond the typical. There is always a Polar Express tree, a Night before Christmas, a Barbie, a Disney, and other ubiquitous childhood toys represented. It was nice to see Dr Seuss and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory this year. However, I was hoping for something more imaginative.
I wanted every tree to be based on a book and not just any books, but Canadian books. Can you imagine it?
How about a junkyard tree to represent Margaret Laurence’s The Diviners or an Anne of Green Gables tree? Instead of a Dr. Seuss tree, do a bunch of Munsch; instead of Disney princesses, the ever adventurous Paperbag Princess.
For our Saskatchewan tree, the decorations could have been based on A Prairie Year or W. O. Mitchell’s Who Has Seen the Wind. The tree mostly is already, to keep in the Storybook theme just toss copies of these books in the hay stack below the tree.
Instead of a Riders’ tree, what about a hockey tree based on Ken Dryden’s book The Game? A Pierre Berton tree could encompass all of Canadian history or do a historical tree based on our first women writers, the sisters Susanna Moodie and Catherine Parr Traill.
Want something different. A computer/technology themed tree could be based on the works of Douglas Coupland (Generation X, Microserfs). A dystopian tree could be based on Margaret Atwood’s futuristic novels like the Handmaid’s Tale, Oryx & Crake and The Year of the Flood. Or be political; try a tree based on Two Solitudes by Hugh Maclennan.
Finally, for the pure joy of it, I would base a tree on the works of Charles de Lint; most especially, the mythical city of Newford. I would need ornaments of the crow girls, cats, goblins, pixies, Victorian libraries, and other mythological creatures. I could let my imagination run wild and hide his many volumes underneath and within the branches of the tree. This would be a tree worth buying.
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