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Writing is my practice. It took me a long time to recognise this, and even longer to accept it. It didn’t fit my (preconceived!) notions of what ‘practice’ looks like. But over the years, I’ve come to realise that writing — which I do daily, and multiple times daily, at that — is not easy…

Spring done sprung. At least at my house — witness dogwoods, Japanese maple, my mother’s azaleas. I am sooo ready. The azaleas, as noted, came from my mother’s home, before she moved in with my sister. They weren’t the colour I would have chosen — although I love the Hershey red, now — but they…

It’s raining. The gardener in me is happy, but the sun-loving reptile? Not so much. Most things are like this, I suspect — good news/bad news. And not even ‘bad’ news. Just inconvenient, or gloomy, or … dampening. 🙂 Lately, whenever I sit down to write, or even think about writing, I bump up against attachment.…

Nothing like a nervous day at the doc’s to make you realise your life is very good. Not that I needed reminding… But it still serves as a bit of a wake-up call. You know: what the heck are you whining about?? 🙂 The eye that was giving me fits is just aging, as I…
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