I’ve been researching my genealogy. It’s important to me, in part, because as an adoptee, basic information about who and where I came from was a secret. That’s a recipe for heaping some heavy stuff on an impressionable child and creating an adult who is hyper-sensitive to feelings of abandonment. Now, however, thanks to DNA…
A few days ago, a blizzard blew through. Today, all evidence of the storm has disappeared and I’m sitting on the back deck writing this post. Earlier, I sowed the first seeds of the season in the garden (there are more growing under lights downstairs, but these are the first in the garden.) That’s spring…
When I’m making the bed, I open the blinds down to let the morning sun fill the room. Later, when I’m in the ensuite doing my hair, blinded by the sun, I’ll close them temporarily but for the moment I pause to look at the frosty roofs of our neighbour’s houses and notice the contrast…
I’ve long been interested in genealogy, perhaps, in part, because as an adoptee I was denied this information. The secrets have been out for a long time, though. Thank goodness. No one should have this information withheld from them—but that’s a rant for another day. Recently, I put on my sleuth hat and began investigating…