… happen to be Canadian, yet not all. Some are more intangible, like the way light can illuminate pine cones on an Old Norway Spruce, or how Green Mountain Kenya AA Coffee tastes. I love Robertson Davies (Canadian Author) just as much as I love Neil Young (Canadian Musician), and for completely different reasons. I admire Neil Young’s integrity, as much as I revel in … Continue reading Some Of My Favourite Things
For three weeks in January the clock in the living-room was stopped at 7:45. It went tick tock tick tock away, but the hands didn’t move. Sort of like me, metaphorically. I ignored it. Tick tock tick tock, BLAH BLAH BLAH with my fingers in my ears was I. Even before I met Tim, well before, lets say forever, I have dreamed of a little … Continue reading The Merry Maudlin Bohemian Years
this pittance of time on these eire-y shores from broken branches i tied my breath alive for all to see stammering phrases of ineloquence my fingers fly this sorrow into a cloak to shelter around trees; i bend on that graceful arching stem the cedar betrays the wind Continue reading Sing♦u♦lari♦T
Over the last month I have been researching the Golden Spiral and the mathematical formula based on that spiral, named after it’s founder; Leonardo Pisano Bigollo (c. 1170 – c. 1250)[1] also known as Leonardo of Pisa, Leonardo Pisano, Leonardo Bonacci, Leonardo Fibonacci, or, most commonly, simply Fibonacci, was an Italian mathematician, considered by some “the most talented western mathematician of the Middle Ages.”[2] Fibanacci … Continue reading The Fibonacci Way
More snow squalls today, I don’t watch the news really anymore so no idea if we’ll get any. I do need to go into town soon, as my supplies are running low, to nil. Nil in the toilet paper category, coffee running low. Toilet paper is being substituted by paper towel. Nice. Coffee is now being supplied via the french press, rather than the Keurig. … Continue reading Trapped in Paradise
AhA…bet ya didn’t see that coming? Was going to go with “Moody Monday”…but who wants to read that? MooMoo Monday? Nah. Melancholy Monday? Of course Manic Monday, but that’s a whole other story. So than the word MAUDLIN just randomly swam to the surface of my conscious mind, and so I had to get a definition, just to be sure I wasn’t just puffing smoke: … Continue reading Every Merry Maudlin Monday
Walking through silence; images flashed. Through unlit halls of learning and illusion. Dark clouds cross the visions. A wake of crows drive sparrow over the tree canopy; and the quiet moon descends. Dancing round in coals, poker hot, a flush of steam rises to the surface. Words upon words. In separate domains the cascading individuality wrenched from … Continue reading Words upon words
In that tired myth of vision and circumspect we strive to create our Noble Lie; In the blanket of time we are its prisoners. This was a time of long, billowy sheer curtains, orange rag walls, and a trio of pianos. It was a time of wine, symphony’s and lying on matching floral pattern love-seats whilst listening to “Monday Night Playhouse” on CBC Radio. We … Continue reading The Lady of the Cellar | Conclusion
I am hiding something in the cellar. A bench a piano bench. I am broken. In a night full of shame; after I left. THREE TIMES. I tried to walk away. couldn’t this time. WHY? Now I am alone with the truth. Continue reading I am a broken piano bench
it’s what I do. I take my mop, my dreams, and I turn away. Sometime between somewhere amongst the trees I lost my way. Continue reading I walk away
“Only when the heart is still is the journey over… and even then …there are rivers to cross.” Charles DeLint, from ‘Spiritwalk’ Of muddled myths, Helium Spheres, broken friendships and unconquered dreams, define this time. The time that had passed, I look back today and see the rocky waves of emotions, smashed dreams, and broken hearts. This time that had passed became a sort of … Continue reading The Lady of the Cellar | Part One
According to Jung, at around the age of six or seven we separate and then hide away the parts of ourselves that don’t seem acceptable, that don’t fit in the world around us. [first line from ‘Spirits in the Wires’, by Charles DeLint] I carry a wisp of that little girl still inside. I remember I was not feeling well that day, it was late … Continue reading The spirits are talking silliness thru the wires
Every year for the last 3 years I have done a final wrap up in my garden journal. I write all the success’ and the failures, what to look for next year in the spring, what to transplant, or maybe ideas for new plants. This year is a little different — I won’t be here next year. I will be … I don’t know where … Continue reading Wrap it Up | 2012
by PaulaB 