I'm taking part in a 20 Minute A Day writing challenge with Story Circle Network where we write for fifteen minutes, edit for five, then send what we've written to our accountability group. This morning, I wrote a poem and thought I'd share it with you. January 4, 2022 Low cloud, feather-like flakes falling,
Traditionally, I use the last week of the year to clean up loose ends, tidy up, look back, and plan for a fresh start in the coming year. Years ago, when I was still working and many people were out of the office during this week, a reduction in the number of meetings and a
Good morning. We are still five days away from the official start of winter, but, for all intents and purposes, it has arrived and settled in. As I write this, Gerry is out front with the snowblower for the first time this season and other neighbours are clearing snow from their driveways. The sound of
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
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
Toss a polar vortex in the middle of pandemic restrictions and you’ve got a string of pretty slow stay-at-home days. And yet I’m juggling a full-ish plate. The paradox is dizzying. Anyway, it’s time for another edition of Friday’s Fave Five and a look back at the week that was. New art supplies. I’m taking
It has been a very mild winter so far here in the interior of British Columbia. Occasional bouts of snow that melts almost as quickly as it arrives, mild temperatures, and a good measure of sunshine. No complaints here. But this week we’re experiencing a polar vortex and for those, like me, who have become
For a time I watched the moon. Rising, as is my practice, in the wee hours, I stood at the window on a succession of days when the night sky was clear, and grounded myself in its movement and crescent shape that was thinner every day. The cacophony of the world at large, silent. The
Today is Tuesday, December 22. We are days away from Christmas and a piece of me feels like I failed Advent. Hope. Peace. Joy. Love. Can I honestly say I’ve leaned in to these things as I intended? Have I lingered in the longing? Or has it been more of a stumbling tumbling season of grasping
I wake to snow. It’s not unexpected, but as I stand at the window in the wee hours and look out over it I am struck by the magic. And reminded of an excerpt from The Presence of Absence that rungs as true today as when I wrote it. # # # It’s not yet
Maybe it’s easier to allow my attention to get caught up in a whirlwind of anxiety about things over which I have little or no control than it is to love well. Not maybe. It is. I wish it wasn’t so but it is. The news cycle is tough right now. We’ve been on this