Retreat

Oh, hello. Remember me? Just popping in to say good morning. I’ve been on writing retreat this week. It’s been delicious to pull back and focus on the work. I’m getting clarity with Presences of Absences as I continue to weave the tapestry of a story about learning to listen. It’s hard, satisfying work and it makes

The Power of Words—and more rain

And . . . it’s raining. It’s a strange summer that’s unfolding. I spend time organizing my manuscript, my writing paraphernalia, and recipes because I’m setting intentions in the kitchen too. I’m letting the book rest for a few days, anticipating an opportunity for concentrated focus time soon, and the opportunity to putter at home

Gathering Rosebuds

Summer’s back. I printed out the fourth draft of Presences of Absences, bought new colourful highlighters, flags, and post-it notes, and am heading into a different season of writing and editing away from the computer. Perfect timing. Because it’s time to sit on the deck and watch the finches, and on the grass in front of

Coding

It was classic. Look to the left, look to the right, at the end of this program only one of you will be here. The instructor was right. Of those who sat in the classroom on that first day only a relative handful walked across the stage to receive a diploma two years later. I was

In the Balcony

I’m coming out of a store when I see my mother standing on the sidewalk. Not really, she’s been dead for thirty-four years, but there’s something about the woman’s frame, her pink cotton blouse, the way she styled her hair, and the softness of her throat that reminds me of my mom. It’s like someone

Words

I’m still thinking about seasons, and the unexpected rewards and challenges that come with change, and something I read in my morning meanderings gives me pause. Contentment. The word seems bolded in the essay but the emphasis is in my mind alone, and I realize I’ve drifted and need to correct course. Trust. That’s another one,

Important, Not Urgent

Gerry leaves early for a hike and I putter in the kitchen making pasta salad and a big batch of granola. It’s 9:00 when everything’s done, cleaned up, and put away: the time I head down to the woman cave to write. But the sun is shining and it is warm outside. The deck looks