I’ve always enjoyed Boxing Day. It’s quiet and low key—a day of books, jigsaw puzzles, and leftovers. This year Boxing and Christmas Days look much the same, but still there is a sense of exhaling this morning. A hint of reflection and intention with a measure of rumination. There are things to do, but not yet.
It's Monday. The last one before we enter the season of Advent and I wake with a fresh intention to walk through this week different than I have in recent weeks. Some words spoken yesterday, by our pastor in the online church service and by our daughter in good conversation later, nudge me toward a
Now it is November and with the turning of the figurative calendar page comes the temptation to project. What will tomorrow hold? The rest of this month? This year? Anxiety rises with each what if? that bubbles to the surface. Yes, we are heading toward the short and darkest days of the year. Yes, there
Time has seemed to run in fits and starts this week as Gerry and I have been busy making plans and decisions and getting things done. As I sit here early on Friday morning and cast my mind back over the week that was, it is a blur. Trusting that as I put some thought
As I’ve been pondering blogging, what it once was, and what I imagine it returning to now, I remembered The Simple Woman’s Daybook. Months ago, when I was really struggling, I began listing things in my journal that I saw, smelled, tasted, heard, and felt as a grounding practice. It sounds simple, but it helped.
There was something extraordinary about the server who brought a Belgium waffle piled high with whipped cream and strawberries and a plate of bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, and toast to the table where Gerry and Makiya were enjoying a morning of grandfather/granddaughter time. She was notable enough that Makiya told me about their interaction and the
It’s hot. Kamloops summer hot. Oh, how we love it! I head to the garden early to harvest beautiful tri-colour beans. Back home I wash, snap, blanch, and tuck them in freezer bags. I sit on the deck and read what was once my favourite book (The Velvet Room by Zilpha Keatley Snyder). I lost
There’s a dog sitting on my head when I wake. Maya must have been scared by the wind in the night but it’s calm outside our window now. It’s about 4:30 and starting to get light. There’s light cloud cover and not the oppressive gray we’ve been under for days. We haven’t had summer yet—or not
When I decided to start playing with watercolour I was overwhelmed by choice. Paints, palettes, paper, brushes. I researched and studied and made decisions that were right for me—all the while washing paint on wet paper and being fascinated by the process. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to paint. Loose flowers, more true-to-life botanicals,
I wake from a dream in which someone stands in my bedroom doorway, tells me she feels like she’s getting the flu, and then comes and sits in the edge of my bed to chat. My thoughts upon waking go something like this. No. I’m not allowing this pandemic to enter my dreams and steal
May we find our peace in the peace of the places to which you have called us. Common Prayer, A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals I read these words in a prayer and my sprit whispers yes. May I stop looking for the next best thing and learn to be content in the now. May I