Some weeks there is nothing, as far as Joy is concerned – well almost nothing. I still have to get used to the idea that waking up in the morning should be an act of pure Joy. The last week of February, for example, was the week from Hell. However, I must have found some […]
…This was a week of complications. I had to find Joy in the uncomplicated or in the unravelling of the complicated. Here’s how it went…. 1. I tried to set up an account with a money transferring service only to find that I couldn’t connect my phone to my wifi at work – lost password.
Most of this week has been grey – very grey with rain. I suppose I could have found some joy in the fact that at least it wasn’t snow. I also did enjoy the memory it gave me of living in England many years ago. I loved my two years in London and still keep
….OK not exactly a great title for a poem, the opening line of a novel or even the chorus of a song, as in “I’m a lonely little petunia in an onion patch.” I kid you not, it is a real song – lonely little petunia in an onion patch. I grow some edible, leafy greens
Our writing word for today is “change.” I have always maintained that change is the only constant, well maybe not. Maybe the more things change, the more they remain the same. For some reason, there are always dictators. Democracy is challenged in the most democratic of countries. There are still the poor, the homeless, the
…. I sing. The line is really, “Of arms and the man, I sing.” Or, what will get you a few more marks in Latin, “I sing of arms and the man.” It’s the opening line of a poem by Virgil, that celebrates heroic deeds. I often use this line, adapted to the situation, when
My husband is amazed that I have the followers I have. How many people would read a blog on the importance of a word (or two), especially when it’s particular importance has nothing to do with them, personally. Well, you never know. One of these days you might just happen to need to use the
OK, it’s starting to get to me. Can’t go outside – it’s raining. I’ve cleaned the bathroom – there’s nothing left to clean. Well, maybe there is, but I’m not doing it today. Yes, I have knitting to do and several books to read, but I’m climbing the walls. This is where it really gets
The title of this post is the opening line of a poem, “The Red Wheelbarrow,” by William Carlos Williams. It came to mind the other day when I saw the same line under a picture in one of our Toronto newspapers, either the Globe and Mail or the Toronto Star. We get both – it’s
