Last evening I did something I’ve never done before. I participated in a workshop with Canadian writer, Sally Ito, in which we collaborated to write a form of Japanese poetry called Renga. I was in a group with three other women, two from Manitoba and one from Alberta. A cross country collaboration! It took me
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
I grow impatient for flowers in the garden in the parks and I think I might buy some at the grocery store to tide me over. I go into my archives where there are flashes of delight recalling springs past attention paid and I remember wisdom in the waiting.
A blush appears at the top of the eastern hills. I watch it grow in brilliance, peak, then fade. Now there is no indication that moments ago the sky over the hills was bright pink. I would have missed the magic if I had run for my camera. Sometimes the wisest thing one can do as