One theme, one prevailing right from the beginning, the first theme, the theme that started it all – death. A recurring theme. Like the dying and those about to die, those who have loved ones who are dying, all seem drawn to me, over and over. Long and in-depth encounters, or brief liaisons with strangers beside one another at a bar shooting the breeze. I … Continue reading The 44th Draft: how to love a dying man
To say the least, this stroll down the drafty lane is an exercise sometimes in throwing caution to the wind and just let it be, let ‘er fly, flow, and this is one of those, I suppose. I had to think about this one for a bit, trying to untangle what the heck I was talking about, and then I remembered, I took a stroll … Continue reading So Saith I This Is The 48th: to fiction or non
I grew up in Grandma’s kitchen next door, still eating pablum at 10 years old and listening to Peter Gzowski on the CBC in the morning with her. After Grandma passed away that same kitchen was our kitchen, then Dad’s alone after Mom died, and now it is the domain of my Lil Sis’ and if those old walls could talk, as so many of … Continue reading With A View Of A Tree
The one and only younger sister unit and I are in her truck a few nights ago, getting ready to get out and head over to Museum London, where her younger one was getting an award for her grade 8 Heritage Project, and we’d arrived a tad early. The niece #2 unit, the one getting the said award, is in the back, nose in her … Continue reading Tales She Told On Bristol Board
Whatever the reason, I’ve always been drawn to things with the patina of age, whether people or things. In this throwaway society, it is to these rare gems that I am drawn. I am a collector. The best ones are always found by chance, with hints of the spirit of their history, well used, perhaps well-loved, with scuffs here and there defining their vintage. They … Continue reading Of A Rustic Nature
She stood at the top of the mound, gazing across the meadow, to the line of trees. A magnificent line of giant Cottonwoods, standing all in a row, these graceful grey sentinels held a quiet wisdom, she mused. Under her feet encased a mystery she had yet to unravel. Turning back towards her Range Rover, bending down she gathered up her finds, and made her … Continue reading Natalie Goes Back
The sun rose over the tops of the trees, bathing in the cold morning light stood the cabin, on the shores of a Lake. The Cedars that marched their way around the edge, swayed in the gentle breeze, offering a welcome distraction from the nightmare that had crept silently out of bed with her. She blew into the rough stone mug she was clasping in … Continue reading The Daemon That Danced Naked In The Dell
“I don’t want to live in the kind of world where we don’t look out for each other. Not just the people that are close to us, but anybody who needs a helping hand. I cant change the way anybody else thinks, or what they choose to do, but I can do my bit.” Charles de Lint “Darlin’, darlin’, and how goes the afternoon? That … Continue reading As the The Crow Fly’s
I do believe in an everyday sort of magic — the inexplicable connectedness we sometimes experience with places, people, works of art and the like; the eerie appropriateness of moments of synchronicity; the whispered voice, the hidden presence, when we think we’re alone. Charles de Lint The place was almost empty now. Thunder had been booming for the last hour, with the occasional flash of … Continue reading Where Magic Goes To Drink
Perched at the bar, tippy toes gingerly resting on the only remaining rung on the stool… of course the last. One hand clutching this glass of badly poured Guinness, waiting on the big giant head to settle, so I go back to pretending to give a shite about the Hockey game on the TV. I wonder now if running away back home was the best … Continue reading The Buck Stops Here
“GREGORY: Did you ever notice how we don’t tell family stories anymore? MONA: What do you mean? GREGORY: Families used to be made up of stories – their history – and those stories were told down through the generations. It’s where a family got its identity, the same way a neighborhood or even a country did. Now stories we share we get from television and … Continue reading Things My Mother Said
Those boards have heard many a tale. I have sat here, cried here, said goodbye here. On that porch we all stood looking up at that gigantic full moon, ringed with a golden halo, the night Mom died. All silently lost in thought, gazing up at that moon. Remembering, and feeling like she was almost standing there with us. For this was her porch. It … Continue reading This Old Porch
I believe in many impossible things. And it all stems back to two of the most defining films of my childhood. I remember coming home when I was maybe 5 turning 6 years old and I had just seen Bedknobs and Broomsticks, with Angela Lansbury, and I was enchanted. I have this vague memory of sitting in the theatre, mesmerized. The other movie is Mary … Continue reading Broomsticks & Umbrellas
by PaulaB 