Aromatherapy

I carry baby tomato plants in a small box on my lap while Gerry drives to the community garden. My hands brush across their leaves. The scent of hope wafts from them. The plants have been growing in my laundry room since I dropped tiny seeds into pots in early April, unmotivated, with barely enough

Halcyon Days

We go out for lunch at a favourite place where they serve an Indian food buffet. Three young people come in, while we’re feasting on things like butter chicken, vegetable korma, and naan bread, and sit at the table behind me. Unable to keep from overhearing their conversation about profs and grades and assignments, we

Welcome March

We take a walk in my favourite park—the one where ghosts of boys playing baseball and girls wrapped in pink toddle in and out of a building that’s no longer there. Gerry’s been sick and to combat cabin fever we drive across town to the park rather than down the hill to church. Worship looks

Eye Exam

Forty-two years. That’s how long I’ve been going to the same optometrist. We were both young and bright-eyed back in 1977 at that first appointment. Now, not so much. He was my children’s optometrist and, when Gerry and I married, he became my husband’s too. I traveled to see him at least once a year

Balsamroot

The week does not unfold as expected, but it falls in a pleasant way, nonetheless. I spend mornings writing, and after lunch and a chess game, we go out and do something together. One afternoon we pack our camera gear and go on a quest to photograph the Arrowleaf Balsamroot—a bright harbinger of spring in

Magazines

I recognize the masthead of a magazine in a tousled pile on the table next to my seat in the waiting room. It’s a publication I subscribed to for the better part of my adult life. I pick it up, surprised at the thinness of it. Once, every month I looked forward to settling in and

Transported

I spend a silent and solitary day at home: writing, reading, potting flowers, staking tomatoes, and watering plants. But it is that moment when I’m standing barefoot on the grass in the backyard watering the tea garden and breathing in the gentle scent of lilacs that is, perhaps, the sweetest. I drop the hose, walk