Asakiyume mita

I'm going to share the notes that I took, fairly haphazardly, at Sirens. The first thing I took out my pen for was a panel with the three guests of honor: Kate Elliott, Yoon Ha Lee, and Rae Carson, on Friday morning.

( The panel title was 'Writing the Fantastic: Insurrection, Intersection, and Evolution.' )

( The next panel I went to was 'Women of the Revolution: Changing Genre and the World' )

( Then I went to a talk by Cafenowhere titled 'The Pen *Is* Mightier than the Sword' )

( I also saw a talk on the comic 'Lumberjanes' )

So that was Friday! I'll write up Saturday later tonight.

Tomorrow, in the small hours in the morning--the 3:00 am hour, to be precise, I get in the car and drive two hours to the airport, on my way to the Sirens Conference, which this year is on the theme of spies and revolutionaries (awesome). I have some excellent roommates, and will be meeting some LJ friends in person for the first time and other old friends whom I haven't seen since summer--very excited for that.

... I've been even more scarce than I thought I would be, these days. I've gotten notification of entries posted, and been unable to take the time to read them, because Wakanomori's family is here, and I've been kept busy with that. I apologize. When I come back from Sirens, I'll catch up somewhat, though probably not entirely. But I've thought of you all each day.

One thing Waka's mother had been really eager to do was see Old Sturbridge Village, so I took them there. I didn't go in myself, but I took these photos on the outside.

Iris seeds



They look like blackberries, but they are hard and seedy. A man from Mississippi was marveling at them, and we got to talking. He told me about when Hurricane Katrina came through and knocked down a tree of his, how he planted a replacement tree, and it sent a branch or runner, I can't remember which, scooting along the ground, and then lifted up one blossom, like cupped hands. I loved that.

Dark wood, bright window, red impatiens, lantern



Doesn't it seem very serious, almost foreboding? And yet the flowers. Like a grim old minister who then smiles, like an ogre who lifts a baby bird gently and sets it back in a nest.

Grasshoppers and Butterflies





They seem metaphoric but the metaphors keep changing, and meanwhile they're real in themselves.

Apples



Autumnal abundance, a garden of peace and plenty.

Feel free to just look at the photos without commenting. I may get a chance to answer a comment or two this evening, but then I'm back to silence until Monday at the earliest.