It’s Friday. Even though I’ve been retired from my corporate life for six years it still feels like the end of the week and an opportunity to look at what I got done and what’s left to do. What I got done this week was, in short: nothing. I put two things on my “to
’Tis the season for reading lists! I always enjoy seeing the books others have read over the past twelve months and finding new ones to add to my own TBR (to be read) list. This year, I kept my reading list in a notebook and when I logged a book, I added a few words.
It’s been an unexpected whirlwind week. Yesterday afternoon, I sat in my wing chair, reading and highlighting, while beet pickles processed in the canner. Content, I looked over at my open kitchen with its tidy counters and big blue Ball canner boiling on the stove. We picked the last of the beets the day prior
I spend a good part of the day on the sofa in the den, heating pad on high, surrounded by books. I can’t even muster the strength to go to the garden, so I send Gerry to water and harvest tomatoes and Swiss chard for supper. It feels like a wasted day. Countless things, indoors
Gerry returns from the sea with sufficient salmon to feed us for the coming year, and the sizzling heat of the past week gives way to a gentle rain. The silence of the past few days becomes the sound of living our ordinary days. I needed the solitude and silence and protected the boundaries I
Oh hi. I don't usually see you around here at this time of day. I'm not often here at this time of day (closing in on noon) but today isn't an ordinary day. I think I broke my foot last night. Well, maybe I didn't break it but I sure did something to it when
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