Now we watch the weather forecast for signs of much-needed rain or, worse, lightning. We check the news to see the status of existing fires and how many have started since we last checked. We watch planes and helicopters fly overhead, fighting war against fires burning all over the province. We lift our eyes to the
I’m joining in with a group of writers for Five Minute Friday (this week the topic is DISAGREE) where we’re given a prompt and write for five minutes about it. I vacillate between the mostly-unspoken message I learned as a child (there are some things we just don’t talk about—politics and religion being two of
I tune in online to watch the summer solstice at Stonehenge. It’s cloudy at Wiltshire, England and there isn’t much to see. The only sound is the wind. I watch for a while, remembering what it was like when Gerry and I stood on that ground in the cordoned off area looking at the stones,
I’m listening to coyotes yip and yowl outside my bedroom window. Maya is agitated. She was this way all night, curled up close to me seeking a sense of safety that was proving elusive. The coyotes were probably nearby and it was windy—she has never liked the wind. And certainly not the coyotes. Whatever the