Thanksgiving

I wake from a dream in which I had returned to work in a similar role as one I was once very proficient in. I was, shall we say, less so in the dream and in my early wakefulness ponder what I remember and what’s lost to me about the technical aspect of my former

Respite

Gerry and I took a short trip this weekend and some of the gifts were conversation en route, hope resurrected, and releasing the weight of “is this all there is?”. I’ve been wrestling with depression—there, I’ve written it. I spoke it aloud a few days ago and now I’ve written it so it’s official. I’ve been in

Better Work

There’s a dog sitting on my head when I wake. Maya must have been scared by the wind in the night but it’s calm outside our window now. It’s about 4:30 and starting to get light. There’s light cloud cover and not the oppressive gray we’ve been under for days. We haven’t had summer yet—or not

Undulations

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

What Day Is It?

We’re driving home from the garden, where we put up netting for the sweet peas, when Gerry says something about going fishing tomorrow—on Saturday—and my head spins. He tries to make me believe that it’s Friday, not Thursday. I think he’s messing with me. “What day did I talk to Kristi?” I ask, seeking an

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