WELCOME TO My Blog: Small, With Great Love In small pockets like Singing Meadow, the twenty country acres where I live and write, the shadows of herons still pass over my head on their journeys from nearby Bobs Lake to their stick nests in a pond behind my home. At night I still can safely stand in the middle of my dead-end road, staring at the clear, deep sky full of stars, hearing no sound but a glee of coyotes, …
On a bitter, wintry day I walked up onto the Tableland to have a look at the beginnings of things. Any day now, the snow would come. Already there was a dusting in crevices and on a few dark green nests of moss. At this time of year my need to get out becomes fierce. I get an urge to visit as many of my favourite places as possible. Hurry. Soon they may be denied to you by ice and …
At a time when none of autumn’s brightness remains, I’m loving our witch hazel. Although it’s only a common hamamelis virgininiana, this five foot shrub has history for me. The haunting, pure fragrance, unlike any other, has meant late autumn for me since I used to be cheered by the one growing at my childhood woodland home. Much later, when we lived at Foley Mountain I was pleased to find witch hazel sprouts listed in the catalog of a native …