On our last day in Amsterdam we went to the Van Gogh Museum. Although Vincent was born in Holland, he did most of his painting in the south of France. His brother, on the other hand, remained in The Netherlands, attempting to sell the artist’s paintings there. Perhaps this is why the museum has such an […]
In Amsterdam, you really don’t have to go to the “pot” cafes, where smoking marijuana is legal, you just have to inhale. OK, it was Saturday night on a long weekend. People were here to party, weren’t they? However, I got the distinct impression that smoking weed was like drinking coffee. It was there to
In Amsterdam, the weather was sunny, but cool. In fact, most of northern Europe was having a very cold Spring. Would this mean that I could still see the famous tulip fields in bloom? Although a late Spring may have prolonged the tulip season, Dutch precision determined that the massive Keukenhof tulip park would close,
I have always loved the idea of a houseboat. To me it suggests a dream-like, almost fairytale existence. “Couldn’t we stay, for our three days in Amsterdam, in a houseboat, ” I asked? My husband, who is not nearly as romantic, noticed that the bedrooms were below deck – no windows, not even a porthole
Sixty stairs, I must be on holiday, let me explain. Last year, when we were in France, we booked 3 apartments through Home Away. All of the units were on upper floors in buildings without elevators. I now consider climbing stairs as the yin to the vacation’s yang – or is it the other way
At the risk of posting twice in close succession about poetry (I could lose the few readers I have), I feel that I have to give you (and me) a little more Mary Oliver. These are excerpts of simple poems that say so much. From “The Journey” You strode deeper and deeperinto the world,determined to
I have to thank Lee Ann Dalton for this poem. I follow Lee Ann on FB. She writes the column “Made in Canada” in Vogue Knitting and has written about a number of us, myself included. I haven’t been reading a lot of poetry lately, because I haven’t come across any new poets that I
That’s Brucing, not sprucing. Let me explain. It begins with Thanksgiving dinner on Friday night. We started doing this a few years ago, when a friend couldn’t make “the feast” on Saturday or Sunday. I loved it, because we were then “free” to go away for a day or two over the long weekend. This
This poem has been rolling around in my head for a week or so now. I usually remember it in autumn because its colours are more Fall than Spring. I know, often the very first sign of Spring is a haze of yellow, as the leaf buds swell, however, this is never as spectacular as
Last Saturday the forecast was for 25ºC and sun. We decided to forego our usual routine of grocery shopping and house cleaning to savour the few remaining days of really good weather. In the morning, with lunch packed, we headed out to the Hockley Valley to hike that area of the Bruce Trail plus two
