Next Saturday we’ll get back half of normal. The ski hill is opening, with some conditions.

Today I woke and walked downstairs in the half-light of early dawn. Two tracks broke the blanket of snow in the street. The falling snow diffused the street lights.

I want to look out the front door and have a difficult time seeing my vehicle covered in snow.

Standing in the front yard, about to take walk with Gordie, I see the Three Sisters newly plastered with white.

While the pandemic and ensuing financial issues forced the Fernie Writers Conference to postpone for a year, the steadfast support […]

Last Saturday night at 6 a crack appeared in the wall of our isolation. To be truthful, and historically accurate, […]

A bit of wind pushes the wet into corners, dry for weeks, and spreads the newly freshened air through the open windows and doors of the house.

I watch the moon from a hot tub. The moon, the first star a planet, which one I don’t know. I watch the moon slide down toward the ridge of the Lizards.

In these days of lockdown, my sound tracks are Jazz24 and Radio Paradise. Each holds a place. And a time. […]

Saturday passed. A day you literally watched leaves unfold on the trees in the backyard. In the morning, as the […]

The mountain did not show yet. Shortly after I woke, the birds started. A pair trilled back and forth.

I took a stroll along the river this evening. After days of self-isolation (the natural state for a writer), I […]