the cedar chest

 

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I’ve always just called it the cedar chest but I think it was meant to be a hope chest. The place where a woman gathers her linens and household items in preparation for marriage. Later to become the repository of baby books, dried faded roses and a maribou feather stole worn to prom some fifty years ago. Continue reading

in the middle of moving

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“In the middle of moving” is how the email note started that was from my friend this week.  I’m not sure where the move is to but I am sure that he’ll look up when he lands and steps into lifestyle changes and he’ll find fierce inspiration in all he does. ‘Cause that’s just how he rolls.  Continue reading

looking for courage

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The ever-changing rhetoric from day-to-day, hour-to-hour has our heads spinning wondering what is going on in the mind of Mr. Trump. And before you say anything; yes it does affect us tucked deeply in the Canadian north just as we’re watching the fireworks of his actions interspersed with our northern lights.   Continue reading