29Oct
07Jul
From fruit bowl to word count
Yes, I’m writing. Can you read it, you ask? Better than that. You can eat it. I wrote a recipe. One that worked. My first real recipe, ever. I’ve been cooking since my first batch of Rice Krispie squares for my Brownie bakers badge, but always from someone...
10Jun
From the gardening trowel of babes
I spent a lovely evening with my son at a gardening class a few nights ago. It would have been cheaper to take him out drinking. We’d at least have payback from the empties, unlike what I’ll get when these plants follow the proud tradition of...
03Jun
Lessons from a Dingbat
Another piece of childhood was buried this weekend with the passing of Jean Stapleton. God love her, she made it to 90 after a career in a profession known to take more than it gives. Jean’s characters on stage and screen were rich, vivid and...
30May
The Need To Get Dirty
When one does not know what to write, it is a time to get dirty. I mean gardening, folks. At least for today. Me writing anything on gardening gives life to the saying: ‘those who can, do; those’ who can’t, write about it.’ A green...
15Apr
Think, Work, Stop. Honouring your Creative Cycle.
I heard this weekend that playwright Neil Simon wrote for seven months of the year, rested for five. Why? He was honouring his Cycle of Creativity. Now, we can, too. You have time for this. Repeat after me. Think. Work. Stop. Repeat. Think. Work. Stop. I’m fresh from...
08Feb
The warmth of a good giveaway
We are to honour our ancestors, but it’s bloody difficult when mine didn’t have the sense to a board a ship headed south. They didn’t end up in the Arctic, at least, but the Canadian East Coast in the grip of a February freeze is...
03Jan
Miss Patti Page: strength from the flip side
I at first felt sad at the news of Patti Page’s passing, even though I hadn’t even been thought of when Tennessee Waltz and Old Cape Cod topped the charts. In fact I was an adult, watching one of those PBS specials where silver-topped fans...
18Dec
Longest night: Day of Doritos and Gratitude
Longest Night. For winter-loving folk it sings a chorus of skis and hockey. For me, it is Shortest Day, SADS on a stick, jabbing me with icy spears of dread while growling threats of carb cravings and cabin fever that even the writer’s cure-all –...
17Dec