I like to imagine the loons were humouring me. And who am I to know if they were, or if I just happened to be in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. Either way, I witnessed something unexpected. Something extraordinary. Something magical. I’d been kayaking earlier that morning, only my paddle and … More And then there were eight
I went for a walk this morning, curious to see what the great storm that swept across the lake last evening had left in its wake. There were plenty of broken branches sheared from trees by the force of the wind or perhaps a lightening strike. Leaves littered the ground and floated on the lake. … More Hierarchy of Affection
When I feel particularly adrift, cast about on waves of uncertainty, ambiguity and loneliness, I take myself to a favourite park. It steadies me, the way a good anchor does. After a couple of hours of rambling in meadows and woods, walking the headland path along the lake, standing on the banks of the pond, … More Anchored to Anticipation
Lynda MacGibbon 