Linda Hoye's Blog, page 62
May 27, 2020
A Thought
A thought tumbles in the deep place where thoughts toss and turn for a time before they are fully formed—before they transform from intangible to action—and I think it is the whisper of God drawing my attention to something in need of attention. That’s how it works. Sometimes. Other times the divine comes knocking in
May 26, 2020
My Book is Born
I arrive home from the garden disheveled, with wind-swept hair and spinach and radishes in hand, to find beautiful, celebratory flowers on my dining table. A gift from Gerry to mark my book’s birth day. He insists on a photo, so I change my shirt, attempt something with my hair, and he says goofy things
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May 25, 2020
Leisurely Sunday
May 24, 2020
Dawn
May 22, 2020
Rainy Day
Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow It’s a gray morning and the forecast is for patches of rain. Kamloops rain, which usually doesn’t amount to much. Gerry is going fishing with his cronies today so I hope that’s the case. If all goes according to plan we’ll enjoy rainbow trout for dinner. I’ve recently discovered watercolour
May 21, 2020
Spring Salad
In honour of the special occasion, Gerry takes an early morning trip to Costco during senior hour (the first Costco run since early March) to buy feta, and a handful of other things we’ve been missing (And yes. Toilet paper. The first package to come into our home since the madness began.) Now I snip
May 20, 2020
Mental Health Break
It’s a beautiful afternoon so, after watering the garden and pulling a few weeds, we head to the nearby park to walk. It’s okay. We’re encouraged to get outside and enjoy our city parks. People on blankets in the grass, and towels on the beach, appears to be practicing appropriate social distancing. Something new, since
May 18, 2020
Tragedy
May 17, 2020
A Lovely Morning
I wake with a reminder dancing in my mind. Think about the true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, and admirable things. The better things. The best things. And I think the Divine has whispered to me in the liminal space between sleep and waking. Low cloud hovers in the valley. There is no sunrise, just a
