TMI

Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information? T.S. Eliot, The Rock I heard these words spoken in a Masterpiece program we watched a few days ago and they stuck with me. Written close to a century ago, they speak clearly to the state of

Reaching and Rooting

In my laundry room, in tiny pots fashioned into greenhouses by way of plastic wrap and a heat mat, the first spindly tendrils of tomato plants reach up from the soil. If I were to gently pull one from the soil, I’d find the start of whisper-thin roots. Buds on the lilac bush in our

Another Hopeful Monday

My girls return home, a freak snowstorm blows through, and it’s Monday again—the last one in  March and the start of Holy Week. This morning I’m pondering taxes (ugh) and watercolour and words and books and dogs and the general topsy-turvyness that is 2021. Those, and a week like none other. And, in the midst

Hope

I wake, for the first time in a long time, with a spark of hope in my spirit. Not a lot, but a glimmer, and a sense of new beginning. Spring arrives next week, maybe that’s part of it. Or maybe the time change caused something to shift in a Back-To-The-Future-ish manner. I don’t know,

Choices

I hit “publish” on my previous post and stand up. With an empty coffee mug in one hand and a sleepy Yorkie in the other, I turn toward the window. Then my jaw drops. Literally. “Are you kidding?” I mumble to no one. Fat white feather-like snowflakes are falling. The roofs of the houses in

Late Winter

We think about taking the dogs for a walk in the sunshine after lunch but the wind kicks up again. Instead, we leave the pups at home and go for a drive. We stop by the community garden for the first time this year and see nothing reaching through the straw covered area where we

The First of June

Good morning. It’s Monday. The first day of June. If there was ever a day for a fresh start this is it. If there was ever a time when I needed a fresh start—well, I expect many of us do. It’s been a tough spring. Summer arrives this month; there’s no stopping it. And that

Antidote

With morning comes the weight again. The antidote. Sun sparkle on the leaves of a tender tree. Deep, variegated greens of the leaves of a mature tree nearby. Shadows on the hills across the valley. The stillness of the morning. The sky—pale blue and dusted with haze. I wish it was clear blue and sunny.

Leisurely Sunday

“Are you ready for church?” I call downstairs. ”Yup. Be right there,” Gerry calls back. And like we’ve done every Sunday for the past ten weeks, we gather in the den where I work some magic to get my phone display to broadcast on the big screen TV and we have church. Afterward, we talk

Rainy Day

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