The Tune I Know

A thanksgiving service in a crowded home here in Canada keeps alive the culture of another nation. The words are unknown to me because the language is one I don't understand, but sometimes the tunes with the songs bring up memories of my own.

sitting
crossed legged together
the tune I know

Instagram This Week

canceled trips
learning to video
chat

snowfall

turns to spring rain

tiny flowers

anti-stress

making a railing during

covid-19

around

and around again

learning to knit socks

thoughts in ink

the early morning

sparrow song

Puffing Loud

The woods nearby frequently draw me to the quiet of bird calls and wind through the trees. There is the path I usually use, up hill and down to the creek that calms and relaxes--but once in awhile I take the steep path up to the sports field.

steep climb
in the silence of the woods
--puffing loud

Instagram This Week

a swirl

of  cardinals

bare trees

leaves 

decaying into earth

a sprout

growing things

the earth warms spring

into existence

sunshine

red-winged-black-birds

sing spring

walking  the beach

with the waves coming in

a heart beat

Park Bench

The sun shines with warmth that draws me to remain outside for a time. My walk is almost done, but I’m not ready to go home for tea. The bench in the park overlooks the river facing south. The sunshine and the flowing water invite me for a pause that settles in to enjoy the view.

park bench

sitting in the

sun

Instagram this week

words
over the phone
getting caught up

sparrow greeting

this sunny Sunday

a long walk

park bench

sitting in the

sun

will you still love me

when I'm 64?

happy birthday Andrew!

walking

in the mezzanine

rainy day

Butter Chicken

Andrew was busy elsewhere, so lunchtime  was all mine. The fierceness of winter had returned with large snowflakes swirling down and I decided to walk downtown for lunch by myself. The heat of India at the end of a trek through Canadian winter.

walk downtown

among falling snow

butter chicken

Suddenly . . .

I spent time learning about poetry. Time doing a self designed workshop to explore the possibility of writing poetry. The results fill this blog.

But, then my Dad died and the writing stopped--until about a year and a half ago when haiku/senryu began appearing in my journal.

And suddenly with no warning my blog begins again . . .