Casca Corner #011

Late winter notes; and recent books, shows, games, music, objects

Winter continues to move at its usual glacial pace.

Chicago gave us a brief stretch of “false spring” last week — 50+ degrees, sunlight, the kind of days that make you reconsider every complaint you’ve made since November — and I managed to miss most of it thanks to another illness. Classic. The city thaws and I’m horizontal.

I’m pretty much back to normal now. Work has been doing its typical ebb-and-flow thing. Nothing dramatic, just enough to keep me engaged but not enough to make me feel all that productive. I’m officially at that point where I don’t want more layers. I want air.

In a few weeks, I’m heading up to Wisconsin’s Driftless Region for a fly fishing trip with a handful of new friends. I’m really looking forward to it. The Driftless is one of the more unusual landscapes in the Midwest — untouched by the last glacial period, full of limestone bluffs, spring creeks, and cold, clear trout water. It feels older than the rest of the region, more textured, and less flattened. I’ve written about it previously, but I’m aiming to make a concerted effort to spend as much time here as possible this year ahead.

We’ll be camping, which means I’m hoping for temperatures at least north of freezing. Also, fly lines stiffen up in the cold and guides ice over and there’s nothing romantic or fun about that. Still, I’m ready to be uncomfortable in a productive way, and hopefully land a couple of trout along the way.

Then in April, I’m heading to the Pacific Northwest with my mom, aunt, and cousin for a week. We’ve built out a slightly over-ambitious itinerary (as is tradition). It’s been decades since we’ve all taken a trip together. I’m looking forward to it in a way that feels different than a solo, regional trip — slower and shared.

I’ll report back on both.

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What I’ve Been Consuming

When you’re stuck inside, you might as well lean into it. That’s been a recurring theme of these posts this winter.

James Salter’s Light Years
David Coggins recently recommended it, which was enough for me. It’s been quietly epiphanic. Salter writes about marriage, time, beauty, and decay with this almost surgical precision. The novel follows a seemingly enviable couple over decades, but it’s less about plot and more about erosion — how desire shifts, how intimacy thins, and how memory edits itself.

It’s one of those books that makes you slow down not because it’s dense, but because it’s too sharp to skim. I catch myself often re-reading a single sentence or paragraph multiple times just because of how good it is. Salter is master. I’ve already picked up another book of his to read at some point after I finish this one.

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
I burned through the new Westeros series last week in two sittings. It’s nothing like Game of Thrones or House of the Dragon — it’s smaller scale, quieter, and more character-driven. There are really only two main characters versus the pantheon that must be kept up with in GoT. The stakes feel human instead of geopolitical.

You don’t need to be deep in the lore to enjoy it, though recognizing certain family names from the main series certainly adds a layer of satisfaction. It’s medieval storytelling without the pomp and circumstance. A side quest, essentially — and that’s what makes it good.

The episodes are also short, and there are only six of them, so it’s a relatively quick commitment compared to most television these days. I appreciated that.

Clair Obscur: Expedition 33
I haven’t really picked up a new video game since I played Elden Ring over a year ago, but this one pulled me in on a whim. It swept last year’s awards circuit and, halfway through, I understand why. Maybe I’ll start making an effort to play whatever performs best at Game of the Year awards, as they seem to be winning for a reason.

The premise is strange in the right way: a world governed by a mysterious figure who erases people at a certain age each year. The art direction leans painterly and surreal. The combat system riffs on classical turn-based mechanics but adds timing and real-time elements that make it feel alive and fresh instead of nostalgic.

It’s incredibly cinematic without being hollow — which is rare. I think it would be a great game to play alongside a partner or friend who don’t typically enjoy video games simply due to how good the story telling is.

Lush — Split (1994)
I’ve been listening to a lot of Lush, especially Split. It sits in that shoegaze/dream pop space — dense guitars, floating vocals, and very melancholy. Perfect late-winter music and well deserving of an hour of your time.

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A Few Objects I’ve Actually Been Enjoying

I haven’t written much about product lately which has been partly intentional. But a couple things have earned their keep.

Indigofera Blanket
I’ve wanted one for nearly a decade and finally picked one up.

Indigofera works with one of the oldest family-run wool mills in Norway, producing heavyweight jacquard blankets in 100% wool. The designs are slightly grotesque in the old-world sense — folkloric, mythic, a little strange. Not minimalist or polite (though they make those, too, but I figured go big or go home).

It’s the first truly high-quality wool blanket I’ve owned, and it makes the rest of them feel decorative. This one feels so substantial in comparison. It’s the kind of object you will keep forever.

There’s something satisfying about buying the “overbuilt” version of something you use every day. I only wish I had it while Chicago was going through the polar vortex last month. That’s okay though, because I’ll have it next time.

Aurora Shoe Company — Middle English
These have quietly become my house shoe.

Handmade in upstate New York, vegetable-tanned leather, a simple monk strap. They’re slightly goofy — Puritan, almost anti-style — which is probably why I like them. They don’t try to be flattering.

They’ve finally broken in and now mold to my feet in a way that makes taking them off mildly annoying. I’ve found they look best with bigger pants — fuller silhouettes help balance the visual weight.

They’re not cool in the algorithmic sense (although depending on who you ask, they are), which makes them more interesting to wear.

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Closing Thoughts

Winter always slows me down more than I expect. Less output, more intake, and more reflection than momentum.

But maybe that’s useful.

There’s something about this in-between period — not quite frozen, not quite blooming — that makes you reassess what you actually want to carry into the next season. Trips on the calendar. Books that linger. Objects that earn their place.

Spring will show up eventually. It always does. And we continue to get glimpses of it.

Until then, I’m layering up, going through the motions, and waiting for the rivers to thaw.

RC