It’s raining. The red tile roofs and the golden trees are a dramatic contrast to the grey sky. Very beautiful. The anthemic music, the handsome uniforms, the solemn faces and the picture perfect architecture of a Tuscan town are like a scene from a movie- an evocative foreign film starring no one in particular, just people who ride bikes through the piazzas, stop to remove their hats and continue to the alimantari to buy groceries.

But our apartment is six flights up, overlooking a quiet(ish) piazza. With the windows open, we can hear the chatter and the music, but when the windows are closed, only the church bells and the occasional clanging of loading and unloading can be heard.

We are right above Crispino’s gelatari, which is rumored to be the best gelato in Rome. Apparently, it had a small bit in the film of “Eat, Pray, Love”. All I can say about that is: how unfortunate that anyone would find that somehow meaningful. The gelato is great, but I had to force myself across the threshold, knowing that Julia Roberts (or her eating stand-in-I’m not certain she actually eats) had done the same.

Around the corner is Tazzo D’Oro, the coffee place. Also very good. A block away is St. Eustachio coffee bar. The coffee there is indescribable, in the good way. But, there are always tourists lined up looking for a full cup of dishwater, and they are disappointed by the thick sweet thimbleful of espresso.

There is no mistaking me for a Roman. I try my limited Italian, often thoughtlessly touch the merchandise in shops (crude), and make weak attempts to dress with a casual elegance that turns out more shabby (very shabby) chic than anything resembling an Italian woman’s birthright to style.

But when it comes to coffee- save the dishwater; give me the thimbleful of a creamy espresso.

And save me from Eat, Pray, Love. Please.

After Virden, we forged on to Pinawa, and then to Manitou. in Pinawa, we stayed in the comfortable, clean, welcoming Pinetree Lodge. Actually, it’s closer to Seven Sisters Falls, on Dorothy Lake. Pinawa lost its hotel to a fire last year.

Manitou has the great fortune of having a population that worked to save the old Opera House, and what a worthwhile venture. Beautiful.

We were blessed with good weather throughout our tour and even found a few good meals. I like those western provinces – very much.

Big thanks to James Logan for being such a boon companion to us. Good player, good man.

Back in two weeks, when I’ll post some photos. Stay healthy.

Sunday took us to Medicine Hat for a show at the Medalta Clayworks Museum. More on that later. For now, let me tell you that it was a very cool place and I encourage you to look it up. Medalta is a chunk of Canadian history. When I find the link (and am not typing on an iPad) I’ll send it along.

Next day we drove back to Calgary, flew to Winnipeg, rented a van and drove to Forget, Saskatchewan. Stopped in Brandon for a crazy meal, the highlight of which was ordering off of the senior menu (55 Plus Super Saver). We all ordered the pickerel, I paid $5.00 less for a slightly smaller portion. None of us could really eat it. So I threw away less on my meal than the others. Talk about being self satisfied in my meal dissatisfaction. I was pretty smug all the way to the van, I can tell you.

And then there was Forget. There is no place on earth as welcoming, no people as interesting and interested. There is nothing that compares. Shannon and Don Shakotko have created a world of art, food, music, books, bees, honey, good sleep….all earthly comfort for the body, intangibles for the soul. There is nothing -nothing- that causes a minute of discomfort. Hank and Gyda Nickels, Shannon’s folks, have the liveliest open hearts and minds I’ve encountered. The Inn of the Seven Sisters, The Happy Nun, St. Ambrose Apiaries – the heart of Forget. Go there. We were lucky in that we got to spend two nights there…well needed comfort in the middle of our tour.

Last night, Virden, Manitoba. Beautiful little theatre with a full house. Good sound, good audience….now if only I could shake the cold. Thank god Raylene and Cindy can sing.

Off to Pinawa at 11:00…five hour drive, but no show tonight. I see a nice long dinner in our future(s).

Thanks for checking in. By the way, our guitarist, James Logan, has been stellar.

The air here is so arid that the few bits of laundry i washed out yesterday dried during soundcheck..not kidding. Hung them up at 3:45, they were dry by 5:00. Crazy dry.

On the way to Medicine Hat….will check in tomorrow.

Oh, and if you’re looking for Raylene’s cd, I’ll have all the info on the website in a few weeks. It’s called “All The Diamonds”.

Back to Calgary tonight for the Bow Valley Folk Club show. Should be another beautiful drive.

Oh, I watched a great TED talk this morning. Gem of truth? Over-sharing is not to be mistaken for honesty.

Ain’t that the truth?

See ya.

My recent happy experience at the Sherbrooke Songwriter’s Camp was enough to get me through the summer with a sense of satisfaction and joy. Well needed.

My fellow “instructors” – facilitators, really – were James Keelaghan, David Francey, Clary Croft and Craig Werth. All great songwriters, all lovely men. Lovely in the complicated, interesting, funny, tender way that makes you fall in love with them, even if you are gay. I learned a lot from each of them.

We started every day with an hour long talk from one of the instructors.

Clary: the history of song, the folk tradition, folklore, pulling examples from the Helen Creighton Collection, interspersed with songs delivered in the most beautiful tenor I’ve ever heard. He’s a singer’s singer. Also, he’s a great songwriter.

James: performance. One of the best performers in the country (many countries, in fact). Great talk about the hows and how nots. Most memorable for me? The question ” what is the one word you should never say on stage? “. Lot’s of suggestions as to what it might be. Turns out it’s this: sorry. I need to be reminded of that from time to time. Also, he’s a great songwriter

David: time and place, and evoking them. Great example of how he took a trip, kept his eyes open, listened to the place, imagines and created. He’s a master at it. His talk was transporting. Also, he’s a great songwriter.

Craig: an open hearted, enlightened and enlightening talk becoming a songwriter, about being a songwriter, and retaining one’s humanity in the face of a difficult business that sometimes does as much to separate us as it does connect us. Seems to me he got to the very heart of what it is to be an artist. Also, he’s a great songwriter.

I talked about making a lyric sing. Nut and bolts to smooth it out and “use your words”….and I sang some songs. Also, I’m an ok songwriter.

But the vitality of this camp is what the participants bring. Not just the songs (of which there were many good ones this year) but the pure willingness to cast off ego, help each other, pass the salt and pepper, leave the last cookie on the plate for someone else.

Here’s to leaving the last cookie on the plate for someone else.

It’s hard not to hope to see one of these animals. Most people would choose wisely to keep well clear of the inherent danger that comes with intruding on creatures that could kill. Pretty well equipped, we carried all manner of survival gear including a tidy little pack that held noise canisters that doubled as flares. The thought of using these little firecrackers was beyond exciting (“firecracker” rather understates it). We were very tempted to try one in the parking lot but were able to overcome the stupidity of that notion.

The only thing we saw that resembled an animal was a deep impression of a moose that had taken a rest in the snow. A great pile of fresh droppings had been deposited, and huge tracks led away from it.

Oh, the temptation to follow those tracks into the woods, but oh, how stupid that would have been. We resigned ourselves to the thrill of seeing poop. Later, as a bonus, we came across that of a coyote.

It was a spectacular winter day in a spectacular part of the planet. Check this: http://www.pc.gc.ca/eng/pn-np/ns/cbreton/natcul.as

Credit where credit is due: my friend Janice Evans took the photos; my brother Tom gave me the 2010 Olympic mitts, which were very warm.

An oxymoronic aside: I was reading Christopher Isherwood’s My Guru And His Disciple when I came across this from his diary –  ”It wasn’t that I had lost all belief….but I was no longer whole hearted”. This is how I sometimes think about my work.

What I can do is recollect the past year. My calendar – a tiny nutshell of dates and events – is a handy tool in remembering some things, but most of the day-to-day is lost to time bled away.

So, the year looked (sort of) like this:

a few good tours with Cindy and Raylene – fun, work, fun work;

a solo show at the Carleton which I was grateful to sell out, despite the no-show of every Facebook friend who accepted my invitation – an invitation so carelessly extended via mass-email gets the response it deserves;

a show in Kitchener with Cindy and the great Gwen Swick;

a solo show at C’est What in Toronto for an audience of 14 people, 12 of them friends;

another songwriting camp at the Road to Stanfest – four days of a sharp red pencil and JP Cormier, Dave Carroll and Clary Croft working on, in and around some really good songs and some really bad songs;

a trip to London and Paris with my partner and help-meet – very,very good;

three days and one show in Forget, Saskatchewan, home of Ananda Art House, Inn of the Seven Sister, The Happy Nun, St. Ambrose Apiary, all created and run by beloved friends Shannon and Don Shakotko with the help of Hank and Gyda Nickles – go there and see how to live and create something bigger than yourself;

a quick few days in New York to see the lights.

In and around these events there was plenty of company, dear friends, lots of family, illness and hope, sadness to varying degrees and seized times of joy.

Oh, and baby-sitting of babies, child-caring of children and dog-sitting of dogs. Everyone needs a willing spinster aunt, even if  they do like a martini once or twice a day.

I do have hopes for next year. I hope to return to a great love: beekeeping.  I hope my hair continues to turn white. I hope I get some work. Above all, I hope my family stays well and has happiness.

That last one, I hope for you, too, and to all those you love.