God’s Compost Pile
One day in May, when the apple trees are hinting at pink blossoms, I take my spade and head for the backyard. The smell of fresh green is all around me. The wor...
Category: hard things
Joy to broken worlds
The third Sunday of Advent approaches. Some of us come to the pink candle with lighthearted laughter, sped on our journey by the jocund Spirit of Christmas itse...
November’s Bones
Back home, it is good to walk slowly on the grass by the river. It is spongy and still green, though the rushes are browning and the cattails are bursting at th...
The Orbit of Love
~ In memory of my uncle, Ian Raymer, and in honour of the family I’ve been blessed with. Love is this magic that orbits us all. When the ground beneath m...
When you feel a little brittle
Some seasons you wake up and feel like this: The rest of the world is blooming and buzzing, and you are left standing apart, a little stark and a little naked. ...