My Shadow Stands Its Ground

I remember how it was as though it was yesterday: My shadow is long as it stretches over the sand. It’s early morning. The chairs and chaise longues are not out on the sand yet.

Waves come in, washing away sand and leaves and bubbles left by the previous wave. My shadow stretches ahead over the sand, long and lean.

The dog approaches. He stands in the waves. Then he jumps this way and that.

Where’s his owner? I look around. No one is paying him any attention.

No collar.

He comes closer. He’s read more

Responding to the Coronavirus

It’s early March. Our friends emailed that they’d cancelled their flight to Toronto scheduled for April.

I stood behind someone in the pharmacy who had bought about twenty bottles of hand sanitizer.

Christian went out and bought us masks (expensive ones) and disinfecting wipes.

We didn’t use the masks; hardly anyone in the airport had them on. But the minute we reached our seats in the airplane, we pulled out the wipes and started wiping down the arm rests, the tray table (open and shut), the read more

Two Haikus

Patricia Hawkins Hiss and I used to sing together in the Vancouver Bach Choir. A wordsmith and craftswoman, she writes haikus about trees.

In spring, trees wear gowns

Of primavera green lace

And soft silk sunshine

And here’s another.

Wearing new sweaters

Mustard, saffron, and crimson

Trees celebrate fall.

Finding Comfort in an Aspen

Narda Pitkethly is the founder and CEO of the Nardagani Reading Program and author of Nardagani: A Memoir – Finding Light in the Shadow of a Brother’s Disappearance. Here is the thought she offered me when I asked her to reflect on her feelings about trees.

I decide to go out on our back deck to talk with my favorite tree. She is a tall aspen. Often I see faces in the curves of her branches with her heart-shaped leaves as eyes. The tree and her many faces often comfort me.