Month: July 2022
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Something about slippers . . .
When there’s really nothing better to do than to wonder what sort of brick/block pattern the wall was built in, in the easy shade of a tiny garden, it can feel like a gentle peace has descended. The labours of the day (such as they are, in these senior times) are completed, and a time…
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From lake to loch . . .
A week ago I stood on the shore of Lake Ahmic in northern Ontario (the near north, as my father liked to say, south of North Bay on Lake Nipissing, north of Barrie), and said goodbye to the loons, a perennial favourite of my mother. A couple of days ago we sat on a strategic…
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The lovely names
The lovely names I tell myself my mother would have loved to hear the names of the wild flowers we’ve met: stichwort; snowberry; loosestrife; sea thrift and speedwell; woundwort; red campion meadowsweet; big trefoil; celandine; kippernut; angelica; bugle I really don’t know if she would, if she would have enjoyed the new names rolling around…
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A life devoted to loving service
After a cheerful day with family at the end of June, our mother died quite suddenly yesterday morning. She had been in progressive decline for the past decade; the end is still so sad to bear. This blog will be in hiatus for a while. Thank you for your kind understanding.
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Potluck Hellebores
It’s difficult to find the correct attribution for the often-quoted aphorism ‘A society grows great when old men plant trees under whose shade they will never sit.’ But Roger Pearse has made a good stab at the challenge, and believes that the line can be attributed to a Quaker thinker, D. Elton Trueblood, in his…
Roads to Joy 