“Put together”: A conversation with poet Sarah Klassen

Sarah Klassen is a Winnipeg writer, author of eight books of poetry as well as two short story collections and a novel. Her work has won numerous awards, including the Gerald Lampert Award for poetry. She’s also a long-time friend.

The launch of her new book had to be virtual on account of the coronavirus, which also meant I could attend, in spite of now living several provinces apart. And I’m honoured to be a stop on her subsequent “blog tour” with the following conversation we had via Messenger. Continue reading

Bowls

This isn’t a craft blog, but I want to show off some bowls I made. I was reading Gathie Falk’s memoir Apples, etc., admiring her paper mache dresses, remembering I’d once played with paper mache — didn’t we all? — and my fingers itched to try again. Something easy, like a bowl or two.

Is there, in fact, an object as lovely as a bowl? Both in its usefulness (real or implied) and its shape? In what it signifies — receiving, holding?

My bowls are thin (about three layers) and — in terms of bowlishness — a little wonky. Nevertheless, they gave me pleasure, making them. Still do, looking at them. For the three below, I used tissue paper: purple, white, yellow. I painted the inside of the white one and glued on pressed hydrangea flowerets.  Continue reading

Getaway

H. and I enjoyed a short getaway last week: two nights and three days in the Chilliwack area, at the Fraser River’s Edge B & B, about an hour-and-a-half away. We filled up on a gorgeous view of the river, the warm hospitality (with full pandemic protocols), delicious breakfasts, and restful ambience of the lodge. If the continuing Covid season made a change of scene seem urgent, it also made this particular spot possible, for, as co-owner Adriana told us, they’re normally fully booked by out-of-country guests who come for fishing adventures.

We let the other two couples at the lodge wrestle with fish (a nine foot sturgeon, we heard, which beat the humans after more than an hour’s effort) while we explored the river’s edge, Chilliwack Mountain, and the Vedder River trail; bought and ate the best corn of the summer from a local stand; and found my grandparents graves in the Chilliwack cemetery. We’d roamed about in that cemetery some years ago, looking without finding, but this time I’d phoned ahead to get the exact location, and thus we successfully completed the earlier quest. Continue reading