BLUE DUETS

  I have come to call this my process quilt.  I had no idea what I was doing aside from putting together some cheerful fabrics and hand-piec...

  As I sit down to write this morning, Lyra is on my lap.  He's picked up on my mood--his timing is often, like today, uncanny.  He has ...

  Tuck loves heat.  He scurries to get into the warm spot you leave when you get up for tea, but his favourite place is the heating pad I so...

It's been a terrible week.  We may be on the cusp of a wider war in the Middle East.  And even if we're not, conditions in Gaza rema...

  I like David Frum.  He's one of a handful of right-leaning commentators, like Canada's own Andrew Coyne, whom I always read becaus...

My book on minimalism, forthcoming from Guernica Editions, ends with a chapter on patience, which is really a minimalist response to the wor...

I have fallen as I climbed the stairs from the Paris Metro into a rainy, windswept day.  I have fallen in the middle of York Avenue in Toron...

When you open the covers of a novel, you open the door or a gate or a window onto a different world view. That's how I was going to begi...

One night last weekend, I was sitting in the living room, which was lit only by the Christmas tree, some lights among the Santas on the mant...

I don't know whether I'm proud or dismayed when I say that I've had several cats who are smarter than Donald Trump.  When I brok...