It’s Sunday. We have turned our clocks back and are in the dark months. A few days ago we were out early—leaving home at 6:30 am—for an appointment and I remarked how the quiet streets reminded me of my morning commute when I was still working. Gerry reminded me of what I used to say
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.
My eyes are drawn to the schoolyard where six teenage boys are shooting hoops. That the sight seems extraordinarily ordinary speaks to the time in which we live. Ahead, the stoplight turns red and the convoy I’m in slows to a stop. I’m grateful because it gives me a few precious extra moments to watch
I must have known it at some point but the knowledge that the sun rises due east on only the spring and fall equinoxes and that now, as we approach the summer solstice it’s more northeast, faded. Watching the sun rise over the hill on the other side of the ridge this morning confuses me.
Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow It’s a gray morning and the forecast is for patches of rain. Kamloops rain, which usually doesn’t amount to much. Gerry is going fishing with his cronies today so I hope that’s the case. If all goes according to plan we’ll enjoy rainbow trout for dinner. I’ve recently discovered watercolour
In honour of the special occasion, Gerry takes an early morning trip to Costco during senior hour (the first Costco run since early March) to buy feta, and a handful of other things we’ve been missing (And yes. Toilet paper. The first package to come into our home since the madness began.) Now I snip
It’s a beautiful afternoon so, after watering the garden and pulling a few weeds, we head to the nearby park to walk. It’s okay. We’re encouraged to get outside and enjoy our city parks. People on blankets in the grass, and towels on the beach, appears to be practicing appropriate social distancing. Something new, since