Pockets

Some unexpectedly busy days over the past week or so, now I’m hungry for quiet time. Not yet. Not just yet. But soon. Pockets of time carved out leave me grateful for quiet moments, but needing deeper pockets in which to roll around.  I practice appreciating what is rather than what could be. My backyard

A Green Man

Recently, I enrolled in the Jean Haines online art school to learn about painting atmospheric (and other) forms of watercolour. I’ve had great fun in recent weeks painting and practicing and painting and practicing and have created a lot of trash-bin-worthy pieces, and a reasonable number of pieces I’m pleased with. Every minute I spend

Green, Green.

There is something different about the green in this season. Ever since the first trees started budding, even before young leaves began to uncurl, I noticed a shade of green such as I have never seen before. I look at trees in wonder these days. What is it about the green? Does it seem more

Liminal

It’s not yet dawn when I stand at our living room window, mug of soy milky frothy coffee in hand, and look to the east. The sky above the distant mountains is pink and, with subtle brilliance, growing ever more mesmerizing. I know, having watched countless sunrises, that the brilliance will reach a peak, then

TMI

Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information? T.S. Eliot, The Rock I heard these words spoken in a Masterpiece program we watched a few days ago and they stuck with me. Written close to a century ago, they speak clearly to the state of

Content

Friday morning, and it's a gray one. The light is on in the kitchen where I'm working in silence, chopping hard-boiled eggs into a bowl, adding them to diced green onions. When I'm finished, I'll add a dash of salt and pepper and Miracle Whip salad dressing, and spread the mixture on buttered slices of

Surprise

We wake to snow. Just a dusting on the hills and the rooftops, but snow, nonetheless. We were warned by the evening weather forecast so it’s not a complete surprise, and it won’t stick around so there’s nothing to grumble about. It’s amusing, more than anything. I look up at the pale blue sky that’s dotted with

Randomness

It feels like Friday, but it’s Wednesday (I almost said Tuesday. That’s how out of sync I feel.) I finished reading another good book last night (Cilka’s Journey by Heather Morris) and now I’m on the prowl for my next read.) The more I stay at home, the less desire I have to go out.

Reaching and Rooting

In my laundry room, in tiny pots fashioned into greenhouses by way of plastic wrap and a heat mat, the first spindly tendrils of tomato plants reach up from the soil. If I were to gently pull one from the soil, I’d find the start of whisper-thin roots. Buds on the lilac bush in our

Another Hopeful Monday

My girls return home, a freak snowstorm blows through, and it’s Monday again—the last one in  March and the start of Holy Week. This morning I’m pondering taxes (ugh) and watercolour and words and books and dogs and the general topsy-turvyness that is 2021. Those, and a week like none other. And, in the midst

Hope

I wake, for the first time in a long time, with a spark of hope in my spirit. Not a lot, but a glimmer, and a sense of new beginning. Spring arrives next week, maybe that’s part of it. Or maybe the time change caused something to shift in a Back-To-The-Future-ish manner. I don’t know,