BLUE DUETS

There are dozens of people who are more fit to talk to you about walking than I am.  I'm thinking of Thoreau, whose title I stole--actua...

  I never sleep particularly well in August.  I first noticed this eight years ago when we adopted Tuck and Lyra in early September and I su...

None of my internet searches turned up the story.  But then I decided to search the tabs on my iPad and there it was, published in The Narwh...

 My body is failing me in some of the most mysterious ways. My New Year's resolution this year was to become a woman who walked, because...

On May 10, I baked a cake, as I always do on that date:  it's Veronica's birthday.  It's a hopeful thing to do, one that gesture...

One November, Veronica and I were driving from Regina to Saskatoon, perhaps for what was once our annual trip to do Christmas shopping.  We ...

  So Jan Zwicky writes in "The Syntax of Ethical Style," an essay her wise, learned, and mind-blowing new book, Once Upon a Time i...

Every once in a while, my head wants to challenge physics.  If there's a long line of cars turning left and holding up traffic, why can&...

It's a new year and a new chapter of The Frosted Bough:  Essays on Minimalism .  I finished the chapter on the Voluntary Simplicity move...

Right outside my kitchen window, which faces north, is crabapple tree.  It was in bloom the weekend I brought my eleven-year-old daughter to...