Linda Hoye's Blog, page 60

Stones

I tune in online to watch the summer solstice at Stonehenge. It’s cloudy at Wiltshire, England and there isn’t  much to see. The only sound is the wind. I watch for a while, remembering what it was like when Gerry and I stood on that ground in the cordoned off area looking at the stones,

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A Wider View

Gerry spends the better part of the day cutting down tall cedars next to our patio and deck, and tending to the aftermath. It’s a big job done on a hot day and the mosquitoes are merciless. The view from our deck is more expansive this morning, but there’s the issue of looking into our

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Undulations

It’s Friday. Even though I’ve been retired from my corporate life for six years it still feels like the end of the week and an opportunity to look at what I got done and what’s left to do. What I got done this week was, in short: nothing. I put two things on my “to

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I’m Weary

I’m so weary. Of all of it. And I feel guilty for my tiredness because there’s work left to do. There’s truth to be touted (after wading through the weeds to figure out which truth is the true truth). There are causes to support (after investigating to get to the root of said causes to

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More Watercolour

When I decided to start playing with watercolour I was overwhelmed by choice. Paints, palettes, paper, brushes. I researched and studied and made decisions that were right for me—all the while washing paint on wet paper and being fascinated by the process. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to paint. Loose flowers, more true-to-life botanicals,

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Watercolour

Gerry and I have been playing chess regularly for over a year. When we first started, I made foolish moves and didn’t think ahead. It was a given that he’d capture my king but I was determined to improve so I persevered. Loss after loss. Angst upon angst. Until, one day, I won! I let

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Quiet

Amidst the cacophony there are those sitting on the ground looking, in awe, at the wonder of growing things. And others, gazing upward at a starry sky feeling infinitesimally small beneath it. Worshiping. And in the quiet comes wisdom that can’t be comprehended where attempts to be right or stronger manifests as louder. I do

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Redeeming the Time

My eyes are drawn to the schoolyard where six teenage boys are shooting hoops. That the sight seems extraordinarily ordinary speaks to the time in which we live. Ahead, the stoplight turns red and the convoy I’m in slows to a stop. I’m grateful because it gives me a few precious extra moments to watch

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Coyotes and the Tides

I’m listening to coyotes yip and yowl outside my bedroom window. Maya is agitated. She was this way all night, curled up close to me seeking a sense of safety that was proving elusive. The coyotes were probably nearby and it was windy—she has never liked the wind. And certainly not the coyotes. Whatever the

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Morning: Beautiful and Terrible

The room is cold when I wake. Colder than, in my mind, it should be in June but there it is anyway. The fresh morning air filling the room through the open window is still a gift. I rise and pad to the kitchen for coffee. While it brews I survey the space I’ve been

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