Welcome Spring

Welcome Spring

A strange sound greeted me as I stepped out the back door the other day. I paused for a second to determine its source. Birds! Hundreds of birds sat in our big maple trees, singing joyfully. No robins yet, but I hadn’t heard such giddy celebration in months. Under sunny skies a southern breeze ushered…

Going Off Course in a Pre-GPS World
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Going Off Course in a Pre-GPS World

The year I got my motorcycle licence, our first long distance ride was to Quebec. Jack and I spent one night in Algonquin Park, then traveled happily along the ruggedly beautiful back roads of Ontario. Crossing over to Quebec we toured through more landscapes of forests and rock, and often alongside rivers and lakes too numerous to count.

Glimpses of Eden
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Glimpses of Eden

The COVID crisis sparks a broad spectrum of emotions for me. Some days I’m faithfully optimistic – trusting God’s promise that he works all things for the good of those who love him. Other times I’m seriously discouraged by the grim statistics, the spectre of the “second wave,” and the ever-changing restrictions and regulations we’re subjected to.

Recapturing the Rhythm

Recapturing the Rhythm

Our four-year-old grandson wriggled in his chair. “RJ, do you have ants in your pants?” asked Poppa. His deep brown eyes widened as he seriously considered the idea. “No . . . I don’t think so,” he said, squirming at the possibility. It may be genetic. My parents and school teachers often asked me that same question when I was a kid.

The Hidden Hoarder in Each of Us

The Hidden Hoarder in Each of Us

My mother and her parents survived the Second World War in Germany. The family was completely bombed out three times – their worldly possessions and their home destroyed. Finding suitable housing was a challenge. Day to day food and supplies were scarce. After the war, the air raids stopped but rationing became the new normal. People were thankful for the basics when available, and had long since learned to do without luxuries like coffee, sugar or toilet paper.

This Old House

This Old House

When I first met Jack he was in the process of buying a farm. “There’s a 125-year-old house on it,” he told me. I pictured a stately stone mansion. “Not exactly,” he said. “It’s fairly small and apparently the bricks fell off when they propped up the foundation a few years ago. It has aluminum siding, though.” “I’ll bet it has character,” I said, hopefully.