And Now it is December

Now it is December. I think I should write something encouraging in these darkening days, but come up empty. I don’t want to wear a mask here, so I speak of the barrenness and trust I’m not alone in the wilderness. I don’t have three steps to find happiness, five ideas to streamline this season, seven

Morning Hope

In the sweet stillness of early morning I light a candle. There’s nothing special about a bit of white wax and a wick in a small glass container but as the flame flickers it casts a glow where I need one. Come . . . There’s nothing magical about it; it is the hope candle because

An Advent Prayer for Hope

Hope. It’s been a year of hope deferred. If I’m honest, it’s been longer, but this year has been something else. The world, caught up in uncertainty and a host of other things there’s no need to name, is weary. We all feel it to some degree and it’s getting heavy. Really heavy. You tell

Something Fresh

Often, I take photographs looking out over the ridge where we live to the hills and clay cliffs across the valley. You’ve seen some of them here. Less frequently, I lift my lens toward the south because it’s just not as spectacular. And yet the view from there captivates me in a different way. Early

Bubbling

I can’t order proof copies of new unpublished books from Amazon KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) because of COVID and the fact that I’m in Canada which, of course, in the grand scheme is insignificant but in my little world is an annoyance. It also makes absolutely no sense. I need to get creative to do