I have heard from other writers in the last several months, each expressing a sense of stifled imagination, despite having more time to dedicate to their craft, time they would have spent commuting and/or at work outside the home. Worry and changes in their creative patterns have, at times, choked […]
Wendi Stewart – Wendi with an ‘eye’
Wendi lives in Nova Scotia’s Annapolis Valley, but the farm on Rainy River in Crozier will always be her home. MEADOWLARK, her debut novel released September 15, is published by NeWest Press of Edmonton. She is the mother of four daughters who did the unforgivable: they grew up. http://wendistewart.writersresidence.com
‘Tis the season for blueberries. A neighbour of mine had a recent trip home to New Brunswick to visit her family and brought me back a large bowl of the wild blue delight, their sweet magic able to cure almost every malady. Wild blueberries seem like more work, more effort […]
I am a bit on the grumpy side today, as if grumpy came with the t-shirt I pulled over my head this morning while getting dressed or from the kink in my hair from having fallen asleep last night while my hair was still wet. It doesn’t happen often, the […]
I love chickens. I would guess my fondness for them is due to Annie, who cared for me as a child; she fostered my love for them. Annie taught me to gather eggs from her hens, to slip my brave hand beneath the hen’s soft warm feathers. The hen clucked […]
I have a confession – I watch my neighbours. Not in the way Gladys Kravitz spied on Samantha and Darrin Stephens on Bewitched in the 1960s, calling out Abner! Abner! at Samantha’s nose-wiggling magic, but still. While living here, I have not heard my neighbours utter one positive comment, be […]
Oran a azu nwa, translated to English – it takes a village to raise a child – is an African proverb, specifically from Nigeria’s Igbo people. The saying is familiar to many of us, but I am not sure we give it much thought. The Igbo people believe an entire […]
This is my five-hundredth column in The Fort Frances Times, my first column appearing in the January 5, 2011 edition. It is not quite equivalent to crossing the Gobi Desert on foot or hiking the Inca Trail of Peru’s Machu Picchu Mountain. Nonetheless, writing four hundred, ninety-nine columns about things […]
I love honey, always have. It was the first sandwich I was able to make all by myself and I still remember the sense of accomplishment, of independence, of conquering the edges of the grown-up world that previously had been out of my reach. I smeared the thick honey on […]
I was listening to CBC Radio the other day. Thor Sigfusson was speaking with Jane Adey about a project in the Reykjavik Harbour, Iceland, called Ocean Cluster House, a project Mr. Sigfusson is very proud of Thor. What a great name, reeks of strength and purpose, doesn’t it? Anyway, Mr. […]
Everything around me is growing and I have a hard time remembering it was ever winter, though to be honest, I don’t try that hard. The dandelion and forsythia, the blossoms and pussy willows have all vanished. This happens every year and I get summer amnesia. The spruce trees have […]
I am missing Fort Frances. Maybe not so much the “now” of Fort Frances as the “was” of Fort Frances, not that “was” is better, but simply more familiar to me. When I take a mental snapshot of the Fort Frances I know in my memory, images flash left, right […]
I love my clothesline. Love love love it. I have mentioned my devotion before and those who know me, are well aware of my affection for the fifty-some feet of white “marine” cotton rope that I hung between two hemlock trees in my side yard, complete with pulleys. I built […]
