
He said “I found another Agate for you” as he pulled a little rock out of the pocket of his dog-walking jacket and put it on the kitchen counter. Continue reading

He said “I found another Agate for you” as he pulled a little rock out of the pocket of his dog-walking jacket and put it on the kitchen counter. Continue reading

It’s not really a gate, but that’s what we call it. “Get the gate and close off the living room. Get the gate and close off the deck.” Keeping toddlers safe from tumbling down deck stairs; keeping muddy dog prints off the carpets. Continue reading

As we hit our teenage years, our Mom is around sometimes like an unwanted appendage weighing us down and sometimes like a crutch holding us up. We’ve all been there; “ohhhhh Mom, really??” and the phone calls “Mom……..it’s me…”.
It’s a hard transition from being a needy child to being a teenager and then to a young parent ourselves doing it our own way. And all along the way our Mom is there trying to fit into our ever changing outlook on what she should be for us. This isn’t a bad thing; it’s a natural progression. Maybe it’s also a natural progression to soften the edges and embrace her with respect and a deep connection as we age along with her, and to long for missed opportunities after it’s too late to take them.
I look at this picture of my Mom from very long ago and wonder what dreams she had. I never asked her. I never knew since we didn’t have much of a relationship beyond my childhood, and then not anywhere close to knowing what she dreamed of. I feel sad for that.
Ask your Mom what she dreams of. Then love her for her dreams.

9 people in a room for six days. Like really, really in a room. Not leaving. And days are 12-14 hours long. That’s what it means to work for our election as an officer facilitating advanced voting opportunities for the masses.
I don’t care who you are, it still takes a big inhale and twinge of expectation and anticipation mixed up with the tiny insecurities we all pack around when you commit to in this case, 6 days of intense group dynamics. Continue reading

I played at Peggy’s house most of the time, or any other neighbour’s house for that matter. I’m trying hard to think of my friends playing at my house and I can’t remember that. It was only my brother, sister and I at our house but we had the run of the Woodlawn neighbourhood that we rode our bikes through as if it was our world. And it was. We would meet up “in the field by Peanut Butter Hill” the dip that bucked us off our bikes regularly and we would ride through the scotch broom listening to the snap and pop of the seed pods spitting at us. Continue reading

The delight in finding. The delight in setting free. It was all there in BookCrossing. With ebooks and the convenience of reading everything on a screen I pack around, I’ve lost some of the “bookness” of a book. Continue reading

The three make an unlikely group. The couple, two men who have lived together as lovers for over 20 years, and the child.
The trendy reservation – only restaurant and eclectic menu suit the couple well as they playfully debate which wine will accent the meal so carefully negotiated and ordered. The child doesn’t know if she can eat at all. She’s quiet, softly petting the tablecloth, the silky lines in the linen, as she listens to their conversation. Not contributing to the festive occasion. She is, as they say, expecting. Pregnant. A bad girl. A shame, and tonight she will have her baby. Continue reading

The smell of potato soup wafts up from the stove as I hold the seven week old baby girl tucked to my chest, rocking back and forth to try to get her to stop crying. And shivering. She is shivering. With my free arm, I stir and stir and stir the soup with the big broken metal spoon that I found in the cutlery drawer with a few stray spoons and forks and crumbs. The spoon grates against the pot with each pass through the thin soup. I can’t let it burn; it’s all there is to eat in the house.
I hadn’t thought of the family for years but they came rushing back to me with all the desperation and fear and hopelessness from so long ago. With a thick, creamy soup simmering on my stove; bacon, onions, potatoes, rich and creamy, I caught a memory as I lifted the lid to check and stir. Continue reading
For a good part of the year they walk in the dark because the winter brings short days up here. Heading out with the flashlight, gloves, scarves, puffy coats and big boots, Mark and Jasmine leave very early every morning on their route around the neighbourhood.
With the change in seasons, out comes the bear spray to be packed for the surprise encounter hoped not to be surprised with. Sniffing takes Jasmine much longer with the melting of snow as critters are on the move and interesting poop needs to be sniffed and pondered with hackles raised. Coyotes and even cougars and wolves pooping by the side of the road and of course bears pooping in the middle as they like to do.
With Jasmine’s incredible sight, she looks ahead down the road at things we don’t even notice until a deer leaps across the road or a grouse flaps up out of the ditch in its attempt at a graceful takeoff.
A mama fox denned up to have her babies over the bank along the walking trail a couple of years ago and Jasmine was very aware they were there. She could hear the little ones first mewing and then yipping as they grew. Soon there were baby foxes popping up on the top of the bank to watch her walk by; Blondie, the one Mark figured was a girl because she was so flirty, and Blackie, the gutsy little teasing one with the others in and out of their den.
Because Jasmine is on leash, there is no chasing, no lunging at the foxes. It was more of a curiosity both ways…… you look kind of like me….but not, and foxes are really curious little beings. You yip and bark like me…..but not. She looked for the foxes every day and watched them grow over the spring and summer. She’s seen them in the times since around the neighbourhood maybe with a flicker of recognition as they look at each other.
The walks Mark takes are a time capsule in some ways. He walked miles with our black lab Benjamin and then with the dogs together as Jasmine came to live with us, and then with Jasmine alone when Benjamin was gone. The other dog walkers know how time works too. Mark comes back and talks about the day Bruce was walking alone when his dog first was too sick and then gone. About how the blind german shepherd follows the others along on the walk with the family. And he sees the time start again with Angel, a little fluffy white puppy added to the group as she grows and grows into her impressive Pyrenean Mountain Dog breed size.
Dog walks are a start to the day with quiet time of crunchy snow steps and the tick-tick of claws filing down on gravel. Of time to think and be. To nod at the others as they pass or stop and chat while the dogs sniff and wag tails.
Mark and Jasmine at BobTail Lake 2017.
It really hasn’t changed much over the years. Guys still head out with their best friends for long walks every day. And it’s so good.

I flicked the light on at the top of the stairs and got about two steps down towards the basement before I yelled “the basement is flooded!”. And just to be sure I ran down and stood on the bottom step looking at stuff floating around in 5 inches of water. Continue reading

I was watching TV last night and after about the sixth ad for pee pads; if you leak when you laugh, sneeze or move, you need these – I turned to Mark to say what the heck is going on here? Continue reading

Three words shared ” heard a robin” and I smile.
This week has been a bit crazy. I felt a little Kung Fu Panda as I suddenly had all these things to do, but the strength, wisdom ….and naps…..and cheesecake…..came through and like that fat bear, I made it through the week managing to embrace the warrior status fat bears aspire to. Continue reading
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