PORTFOLIO
published essays
Late Life Model
Could I become a model at 60? I am giving it my best shot.
The Globe and Mail July 2022
Tags and Tenacity
After my dad's death, I am literally stuck with his clothing.
The Globe and Mail July 2022
Sweet Peas
Perhaps my struggle to paint sweet peas and their reluctance to be painted, is as it should be.
Herbaria3.0 August 2022
Veneer of Grace
In my mom's fog of dementia, she saw me clearly.
The Globe and Mail
My Home at the End of the Alley
I buy a house and then raise the blinds.
The Globe and Mail
Dismissed with a Glance
It was easy texting until he asked for a photo.
The Globe and Mail
My Grey-powered BA
University in my 50s and never too old to need friends.
The Globe and Mail
Beauty in the Back Country
Minus thirty and skiing into Skoki Lodge, AB.
Skoki Website; POP Publishing
'Til We Eat Again
New York New York, with fine friends and food.
POP Publishing
Postcard to Self
Far North Tropical Queensland. Remember to return.
Out &Â About With Kids
even more essays
Not Ready to Leave
I have his eyes, that much is clear from above the mask. My dad is dying with covid.
Saxgoddess
It's time to sell my saxophone, and my inner saxgoddess agrees.
What Gives Me the Right?
My dad is in continuing care, and I make his decisions.
Going, Going, Gone Grey
It's not easy going grey . . .
"Bear!" "Where?" "There!" "Shit." And so it was, our lunchtime spot on a hillside, above Ptarmigan Lake, along the Slate Range of the Canadian Rockies, flouted by the bluest of skies, wispy white clouds high above the breeze that makes us upwind of the bear. I say bear, but I mean grizzly . . .
ABOUT ME
Always an observer, writing allows me to make sense of what I see and desire.Â
After a career in nursing, then raising a family, I returned to university and completed two degrees in English Literature, with a focus on eco-criticism and creative writing. I learned much about myself and more importantly, about the world around me, suddenly more dire. I have an interest in documenting life's challenges alongside the environmental moment we are deeply embedded.
If you stop to curse, you are lost.