I baked the first apple pie of the season yesterday. Today, there's a sauce simmering on the stove made with a batch of tomatoes that have been ripening on my countertop and oregano Gerry just snipped from the backyard garden. I'm wearing socks and long pants and there's no point in trying to ignore the fact
We are a smaller than normal group this morning as some women have other commitments, but those who gather to share stories they have worked on since we met last month to the prompt "mothers and daughters" come with strong words, open hearts, and the willingness to be vulnerable within the circle. There are tears
It's early Friday afternoon as I write this and, after a busy morning, I'm ready for a break. Seems like a good time to pop in and say "hello!". I've spent the morning working on Story Circle Network business--wrapping up the blog competition (winners will be announced next week) and getting ready for the poetry
There’s been little blip in the garden prep plans as Gerry nurses an injury, but we’ll get there. Today I’m going to experience the sweet aromatherapy of potting soil and start tomato and pepper seeds. My laundry room will morph into a plant room and will remain that way for the next few weeks. It’s
I read a post this morning on Christy Woolum’s blog, Gathering Around the Table, called Ten Things Savimg My Life Right Now, where she shared 10 things helping her through the bleak mid-winter. Her post was in response to Anne Vogel’s post on her blog, Modern Mrs. Darcy, and invitation to others to do make
I'm parked in a public parking lot beside someone I know. Our windows are open and we're having a conversation. She says something that an anonymous stranger walking by overhears. "Shut up," he mutters, striding toward a big truck parked on the other side of me. Shut up? Is this what we've come to? Strangers
It's a gray Saturday. Our granddaughter is sick so we're hunkered down at home. It's not serious and she is feeling somewhat better today, and getting bored. That's a good sign. I just took a loaf of bread out of the oven and we all enjoyed a warm slice—Makiya's and mine slathered with butter. Gerry
The January melt continues. Our cars are dirty and our garages are mucky; roads are slushy and our shoes are wet. We're on the downward slope toward spring and, while it's entirely possible we're in for another dump or two of snow, I'm choosing to believe the worst of winter is behind us. I even
I’m still trying to come up with something to write about for Saturday’s writing group to the prompt, COOKING. I finally decided that the reason I’m struggling so much is because I don’t really enjoy cooking. Not only that, but for the life of me, I can’t come up with any childhood or other tender
I sit in my car in the parking lot of my favourite city park, waiting for a text from my dog groomer letting me know I can pick up the pups. It’s a gray day. Cold, but not frigid. Snowy. It’s the first time I’ve been out of the house in days and I’m struck
The house was very quiet, and the fog—we are in November now—pressed against the windows like an excluded ghost. E.M. Forster, Howards End It's a grey day. The fog is low and I am home alone. It's quiet, save for the sound of the King's College Choir coming from my Bose speaker. I'm sipping yerba