I am fried. I know it looks like I was writing blog posts all last week, but actually, I’d written those in a frantic two-day session over the previous weekend. I’ve spent the week reading paper after paper in preparation for the biggest post of my blogging career. I don’t want to say anything until it happens, but watch this space for the news.
I’ve now finished reading. Notes are arranged, photos mostly chosen. I wish I could say I was eminently knowledgeable about my chosen subject, but it’s the bloody North Cascades. Confusing as hell when you scratch around beneath the surface. Still, I feel I’ve figured out enough to write semi-intelligibly, perhaps even semi-intelligently, about them. And I’ve rediscovered my adoration for the reading of scientific papers. You might be surprised when I tell you this, but one of my favorites was Brown et al, “Revised ages of blueschist metamorphism and the youngest pre-thrusting rocks in the San Juan Islands, Washington.” It’s beautifully written, and it’s fascinating – you’d think a paper about dating rocks would be boring, but it’s far from it. More like a geological detective story. And I will blog it one day.
Still. After reading what feels like four billion papers, and organizing notes, and staring at photos until my eyes bled, and staring at poor-resolution geologic maps of the area in question until my eyes hemorrhaged, and fighting PDFs and Evernote (who both thought playing silly buggers when I tried to copy and paste snippets would be ever so funny), then organizing a wild jumble of notes into something approaching order, I am ready for a damned interlude before I write. So in the pre-dawn Sunday hours, as my stunned thoughts realize with growing horror that I’m out of blog posts for the week, I take refuge in music, and invite you to join me here.
The Emma Shapplin channel has been my constant companion through all of this research. I can’t listen to metal while I read, so it’s a good thing there’s fabulous modern-day operatic yum to fill the silence, innit?
I just hope y’all like Secret Garden, because this version of “Gates of Dawn” has some absolutely stupefying, stunning, delightful geology in it, and if you watch long enough, you’re sure to recognize something you love. I saw Yosemite Falls, Half Dome, and the horseshoe bend in the Colorado River, for instance, of which I have very fond memories* and made me squee just then.
Also some quite lovely geology in this one, if only glimpses. I love Sleepthief, and “Tenuous” has quickly become one of my favorite songs.
For this one, the visuals aren’t quite so interesting to the geology lover. But Tarja is an immensely talented singer, and “Oasis” is gorgeous. Just sit back, close your eyes, and let your imagination fit landscapes to the lyrics.
Seeing as how it’s Emma Shapplin radio I’ve been listening to, and I bloody adore Emma Shapplin, I’d best include her. Once again, no geology, but this video for “Spente le Stelle” is artistically awesome. Besides, she looks quite a bit like my main character, so I’m fond.
Right. It’s back to the hard work after that lovely little musical interlude. Seeing as how I’m due in Oregon for some geologizing with Lockwood, this week is mostly going to be Vintage Verdad week, in which I post some old (and at times improved) favorites. Then there’s that super-sekrit special post coming up, which won’t even be here at ETEV, but I’ll direct you to it when it’s up. And there’s always a chance for some Oregon outtakes, free wi-fi at public establishments willing.
Have a wonderful week, my darlings!
*All right, so the story with the Horseshoe Bend: I’d gotten volunteered by one of the owners of the coffee shop I frequented in Page to show a dude from New Zealand around the area. Mind you, he’d never met this guy before. And he wanted to go out into the middle of nowhere. I seriously doubted the wisdom, but figured, hey. We’re going to Horseshoe Bend first. If he gets hinky, I can just trip him right over the cliff, which is hundreds of feet straight down. No problemo. Well, the dude from New Zealand turned out to be a perfect delight, a man getting ready to finish his PhD, and we had a roaring good time going round to all sorts of isolated beauty spots while he told me about life in New Zealand. Sometimes, it’s worth taking risks. And dearest John, with the kitten named Jesus and the roommate who named him that just to get rid of a proselytizer: if by chance you should be reading this, please remember my fajitas fondly and drop me a note, won’t you? I have yet more thousand-foot cliffs to not tip you over.