Blog-azic

Just as I was leaving Athens, I could see lilac flowers starting to develop; compact, green-brown spikes. Syringa is hard plant to leave behind, especially as it begins what promises to be a spectacular spring. With our stunningly mild winter, plus a moist and early spring, all of nature is "biting at the bit" (well, most of nature, anyways - violets are surprisingly patient in regards to their bloom time). Still, I was comforted upon my arrival in Carrboro by a vine that is downright rare in Ohio, but abounds here in North Carolina, Wisteria. One cluster of flowers. All these flowers fit into four mason jars along with 12 cups of honey! Ah, how should I describe Wisteria? Its purple hue is reminiscent of lilacs, its smell of Black Locust. The pea-like flowers hang in long, drooping clusters from 4 to 18 inches in length. The woody vine itself is voracious, growing fast, twisting itself around and up trees, forming mat-like canopies, but not like kudzu, where en...

There are plants preparing for spring, on both the campus of Ohio University and in the woods near Athens, Ohio. Here's a few more examples (see previous posts as well). Spring Cress ( Cardamine bulbosa , a.k.a. Bulbous Bittercress) has been pushing up its rounded basal leaves, which grow on long petioles (stems) that terminate at the ground. By pushing back some leaf litter, you may also find a few plants that have put up small stalks and flower buds. Notice that the leaves on the stalk are sessile (without a stem) and are pointed. The plant stands tall when it is full grown (up to a foot), and the flowers are four petaled and relatively large compared to other members of this Genus (Bittercress in the last post is closely related, but has tiny flowers). One of the common names of the plant (Bulbous Bittercress) refers to the bulb-like root stock just under the surface of earth. The plant has a bitter, pungent taste, like other members of the Mustard family. It prefers con...

Today was a winter day that only happens in Athens, Ohio: sunny, warm, breezy - not at all grey, nor blustery cold, nor with a biting wind. Rather, today was pleasant, and all things detected it. I believe that right about this time of year, the birds understand that spring is coming because their songs have an extra "oomph" to them that all but eludes me to describe, yet I can hear it plain as day. Rabbits get restless and make daring games of tag through backyards and across streets. The soil warms and the whole earth lets up a soggy sigh of warm relief. Why even now, spring flowers are breaking through the softened dirt to herald a coming season of growth, and it puts a bounce in my step and a gleam in my eye. I love flowers. Can I just put that out there and have it not be weird? Do you know what an adventure it is for me to go walking in the woods with a little green book of flowers, searching for a little green plant confidently growing out in the elements? What ...

Look for a link to the sheet music soon. Here's what I have so far.

I recently heard from a friend, Beckie, who lived with me at ACME Co-op (now called The Vine Co-op) in Athens, OH. She studies Film at Ohio University (MFA) and wondered: would I like to write some music for her film. I was happy to oblige. Movie composing used to interest me very much as a career, and with the iPad 2 GarageBand App, it's well within my power to make that happen. Beckie provided me with song samples that she had already selected for the film, but were copyrighted, and so unavailable for use. Each one was about a minute long. I created three short songs that she could substitute for the ones she had chosen. Her film is a documentary about her family and the auto industry in a Michigan city. It is called "Generous Motors," and I hope to post a link to the final product at some future date. For now, here are the three compositions: Driving Detroit by christomazic Assembly Line by christomazic Reflection by christomazic

These are pictures I took with Susan's digital camera at Stroud's Run State Park and also Burr Oak State Park. It's pretty incredible to see those moss and fungi up close. It's like a whole new world!

Susan and I are together again, back in the hills of Southeastern Ohio. Hills with deep, bedrock bones - bones of sandstone, ever wet. On top of them, a covering of thick flesh - unyielding clay, brown. The path darts in and out, a numbing undulation: back into the hollow, out and around the hillside, back again. Streams are trickling down. Soggy forest litter, squishes underfoot. We're in an old pine stand listening to the trees. They're absolutely speaking to us in creaks, moans and whispers; tall pines, dead with spongy, rotten wood; half fallen over - one of them - and leaning against a live neighbor - so precarious. Susan and I become dramatic. We overemphasize the danger and run down the path, underneath the leaning pine. First, Susan and then myself. As one goes the other watches, smiling for the thrill of our game, but hoping against the unthinkable. On goes the path, bending left and right, up and down. It takes us into deeper stands of pine, shady but warm and carpete...