Last night, the mist was rolling off the snowbanks like tumbleweeds.
08.03.2026 17:55
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Last night, the mist was rolling off the snowbanks like tumbleweeds.
Fra Angelico at the Museo San Marco, Florence.
…another hundred people who got off of the plane
And are looking at us
Who got off of the train
And the plane and the bus
Maybe yesterday
Literary egotism consists in playing the role of self, in making oneself a little more natural than nature, a little more oneself than one was a few minutes before.
—Paul Valéry
Low tide has never been so dramatic. Seascraper’s a three-act story of damp atmosphere and the deep quiet of its young protagonist. Perfect winter evening read.
Excerpt from Susan Haldane's "Scattering my father's ashes" published in Issue 176 of The New Quarterly.
Featured this week in The New Quarterly is Susan Haldane's "Scattering My Father's Ashes" from Issue 176! Click here to read the full poem: tnq.ca/story/scatte...
#poetry #amreading #poetsofbluesky
I go for haircuts expecting them to make my hair better, but they just make it shorter.
My latest Echolocations issue: english.web.ox.ac.uk/article/echo...
Kentridge! Kiki!
Where is the barista who will walk among the café tables with a pot of cappuccino asking, “Can I top you up?”
📣 Today’s the deadline for our fiction contest!
Last year’s winner, Luanne Gauvreau, has some great advice:
Tighten and tweak all you want—as long as you finally hit send! I submitted on the deadline date last year and look what happened: 😊 thefiddlehead.ca/content/cong...
Cover of Miranda July’s book All Fours.
Always worth reading Miranda July. This in the “burn it all down and you’ll get a book out of it” tradition of Elizabeth Gilbert or Glennon Doyle (though fiction). Some great ekphrastic writing about dance.
“Her butterflies “ — wonderful image!
So backwards. They should have run it on the QW through downtown to drop folks into the urban neighborhoods (Westboro/Carling, Hintonburg, Glebe/Centretown) then run along green space in suburbs so they can park-and-ride.
Toilet facts: “Comfort” height is not comfortable; “Standard” height is no longer standard.
Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last.
—Charlotte Brontë
Psychedelic baby supernova from Gary Barwin.
A film that takes place where you are from.
The Fiddlehead didn’t hold back on asking the big questions!
thefiddlehead.ca/content/inte...
Sad faces here in Ottawa, too!
corridor through tall leafy trees in the May sunshine. No one else about. Just us and the birds.
Travel through your ears with us to.... the Forest of Dean
Episode 30 - Wind and time in the forest (40mins)
It's 8am one sunny May day. Blackbirds join wrens, robins and song thrush in the cathedral of trees.
> bit.ly/LenFoDn2
Pretty sure I’m going to be hearing “I’m sorry, grapes are for millionaires” every time I stand in the produce aisle, for the rest of my life.
The New Yorker’s not the only magazine with gallery-worthy cover art. Happy launch—wish I could be there!
“Sail on, sail on
O mighty Ship of State!
To the Shores of Need
Past the Reefs of Greed
Through the Squalls of Hate.
Sail on, sail on—“
Let’s hope, with Leonard Cohen, that democracy can hold its course.
A wonderful start to the new year! Thanks to judge Zilla Jones for her close and generous reading of my story. So pleased to have my work appear in the always great @fiddlehd.bsky.social
New chapter: In which I find myself on a list.
Oh my goodness…well, you did warn us.
Thanks for sharing the song—and that time in your life through the song.
This time of year I always remember how I was radicalized as a language-loving child by the crazy syntax of Christmas carols.
Reminder from Samuel Butler to help me resist the siren call of the end-of-year lists: “The oldest books are still only just out to those who have not read them.”