This is an article I wrote for the Sackville Tribune Post several years ago. Women Driving Downtown copy

I wrote this article for the Sackville Farmers’ Market. It was published in the Sackville Tribune Post. Photographs are courtesy Rose Leonard. It’s Saturday morning and the lure of fresh has hooked you into strolling up Bridge Street block to the Sackville Farmers’ Market. Fresh baking, fresh flowers, fresh veggies and even fresh ideas await… Read more »

How many lives do we have? As many as we want. I’ve had quite a few. I’ll take you through them quickly. With apologies to Joseph Campbell, my purpose is to show you, and myself, that it’s never too late to answer the call. Twelve: I imagined myself free of a bully. Every day I… Read more »

Hello again dear readers/writers! I’ve been a way for a while. Actually, I’ve moved. From Sackville to Rothesay. Bought a bungalow. It was the longest closing date in history (almost a year), so that’s what I’m using as my excuse for not blogging. And since we’re talking about excuses I thought I’d share some with… Read more »

When my son, Colin, was three years old he realized he was going to die. He wasn’t sick, and we had never talked about death. He just walked up to me one day and said, “When I die, some boy will get all my toys.” No drama, simply an acknowledgement. I, on the other hand,… Read more »

I could see the world from there My heart-rest Warped walls that welcomed me Paper peeling revealing Stronger stuff Horse hair, lath and plastered With love and anger and hope and despair That joyous shudder of surrender When I entered her Drowned now By the drone of refrigerators and baseboard heaters Getting on with it

I didn’t know it, but I spent December reading books about happiness. Well, I knew I was reading. But I thought I was reading about how to do no harm, how to surrender to uncertainty, to be kinder and more compassionate. Which, as I discovered, leads to happiness. Not a happiness as in it’s going… Read more »

The conversation usually begins like this: “What do you do?” “Im a writer.” “Ooohhh.Cool! What do you write?” “Web content. Brochures. Presentations. Reports–” “Oh. Commercial writer.” At this point the person sniffs, sensing rot in the air and I have become a woman sitting on her groc-er-ies, as Joni Mitchell says. For years I resisted… Read more »

My office is in the front corner of our house, which is perched on a hill overlooking the Cumberland Basin. Big windows on both sides of the room let in sunlight, birdsong and cinnamon-sweet saltwater breezes. Weathered-silver hay barns lean into the land and a tidal river staggers through the spring-green marsh. But that’s not… Read more »