A garden like this is a rough sketch, a thing becoming, a thing of chaos and order, spirit and shadow in the changing light, as well as changing goals, and changing up a few dreams. Being rented, just because it happens to be out my door, I never know absolutely 100% if I will be here next spring, next season. I definitely want to be, … Continue reading Jardin De Refuse For A Rented Garden Becoming Wabi-Sabi
A garden has a lot to teach, of patience, compromise, of light and shadow and how to play with it, of creation, of beginnings and endings. You learn from a garden that indeed the eye does like to travel, as someone once said, in sweeps of singularity of colour or type, drawing you forward to the heart of it, or framing the prize view. Gardens … Continue reading Some Tales From A Rented Garden, Of Time, Lessons, and That Lungwort Flowers
Not to toot my own horn, but I seriously rarely toot my own horn, so TOOT TOOT. I have spent all my personal time of late, my days off, my afternoons, mornings watching dappled sunlight sparkle, and I am enchanted, stunned with its beauty, this ethereal sense of watching the wilding world go by. Enchanted by all that comes and goes, flits through, breezes by, … Continue reading Tales From A Rented Garden: How To Love A Begonia
This year I am so enamoured with my garden, of how it has aged, filled in, the play of light on the foliage, the golden creeping jenny with the kelly green of the Plantaginea Hostas enmass, and the play of light through the Asparagus Fern in the plant stand I found. Tis definitely my little oasis. We all need that escape, that tranquility, of a … Continue reading My Japanese Inspired Woodland Garden
Outside this morn, 6am, and I can hear the Cardinal welcoming the dawn, as I sit here, java in hand, watching/reading/absorbing the news. Every day another he did this, he did that, this guy was appointed here, this is why that is so bad, this is his latest lie, this is his latest unethical, dispassionate, childish, cruel thing he said, did, every single day, one … Continue reading On Being Decent In Indecent Times
spirit i seek, heresolitude is mine, againi return to you Continue reading euston my euston
“It is held that David Suzuki first experienced his love of natural history, while exploring in the Coves pond”… and much has changed since he was teenager. I guess his family moved to Ontario from BC, and spent his late teens in London in the 50s. “Our identity includes our natural world, how we move through it, how we interact with it and how it … Continue reading Back To The Orchard
I could hear them singingturned off the radioopened the windowto their happy chatterwhat they had to sayof those first tendrils of springwakes my dusty tailwith bird chatter of amorous tonesof buildingof creationbeginningspossibilities, or so they say Continue reading so they say
One of my earliest memories of childhood is this day when I was 4, my friend was 3, and our moms had sent us down that summer day to the village post office to get the mail. My friend was the ‘street savvy’ of the two of us, as I was sort of dorky shy kid and certainly did not have the kahunas she did, … Continue reading When Only A Village Will Do
I had graduated from BealArt, 19 years old and the future was so bright I had to wear shades. After my recent escape from dinky Dodge for the ‘big city’ (or how I thought of it back then), I was footloose and fancy-free, at the top floor of this 3 storey walkup in Old South with my girlfriend. With its ’70s orange shag carpet which … Continue reading A Walk Thru My Old South
a satin lustre glisteningso magnificentit blindedas itravelled roundthe greenthis morn Continue reading the green in white
That mound of humanity had been a desire of mine for years, and fear of being so far away from everything I had ever known lured me, and so I spent 6 years within that gigantic multicultural opportunity driven metropolis until I met Tim. What he found was a sad and lonely drunk wallowing in her grief, I was an easy mark, and so began … Continue reading Setting Free Those Captive Seasons By A Lake
i wonder who decidesthe length of the lieshow long they can go on and onand who else they can snowfor what ends we don’t knowbut it is no great featthey mastered deceit creeping the hallsas they sow so shall they reap As a result of the war, corporations have been enthroned and an era of corruption in high places will follow, and the money power of the … Continue reading the wind slapped my face
by PaulaB 