And so it goes . . .

In the morning, I catch up on Story Circle Network business while Gerry runs errands, then we spend a chunk of the day organizing and rearranging. I make an apple pie, because that’s what you do in October, and while it bakes I brew a cup of soy milky frothy coffee (my first of the day) and

Thoughts In the Drive-Thru

I’m in the drive-thru, behind a long snake of red taillights, waiting to place my order. These days I never know if an establishment is open for dining in or if there are other rules in place I’ve lost track of since I stopped force feeding myself a steady diet of news. The drive-thru is

Moving Day

It’s early. I’m the only one up and I’m relishing these moments of quiet before the busy day ahead. Murphy is wrapped in a blanket and snoozing in my arms. I’m surrounded by boxes and things waiting to be loaded into the U-Haul parked in our daughter’s driveway. I’m debating whether or not I should

Happy Birthday, Mom

When someone asks you where you come from, the answer is your mother. . . I did love my mother, but I didn’t know how much until she was gone. Anna Quindlen, One True Thing We talked on the phone almost every day. I’d call her or she’d call me and we’d chat about nothing


Two lonely pots of bright yellow mums are all that's left on the back deck this morning. Gerry is busy outside bringing in pots and mats and outdoor furniture. The season is changing and we're inching toward waking up one morning to white—but not just yet. Please, not just yet. There was a hard frost

Happy Turkey Sandwich Day!

As I lift my favourite mug toward my mouth the handle breaks, spilling soy milky frothy coffee all over myself. That’s a troublesome way to start the day but maybe it reinforces my intention to stop with the soy milky frothy elixir first thing every morning. Maybe. Worth pondering. I’m starting a 16:8 intermittent fasting

Afternoon Musings

The gardens are harvested, the sprinklers are blown out, and, today, the landscaper cut the grass for the last time this season. We have pulled out tender annual flowers from pots around the house and the hostas look yellow, and more than a little worse for wear, thanks to the cooler temperatures. This morning, Gerry

Sunday Afternoon

It's a sunny Sunday afternoon and I'm listening to the sweet sound of laughter from my granddaughter and her new friend coming from downstairs. Next to me on the sofa in the den (also known as, according to one of our favourite television shows, Escape to the Country, the snug), the Yorkies are sound asleep.

Saturday Morning

Gerry and I have been retired for seven years and have grown accustomed to every day feeling like Saturday (except for the retirement gift of not having to go to busy places on the weekend like grocery stores and the like). But now, with a granddaughter in residence, Saturday feels like Saturday again. I’m lingering,