Going Inkless

     Mom's favourite colour is green.  It has been for as long as I can remember.  There was never a question about which colour to pick when choosing or making a gift for her or which sheet of construction paper to transform into her birthday card.  It was very helpful for us kids when we wanted to make something special even more so.  Grandma was more of a mystery.  When asked to declare it, she'd say her favourite was "sky blue-pink with purple polka dots."  Although that sounds a lot like lavender to someone learning to mix colours, I'm sure it was just her way of saying any colour we chose would be just right.  I still have no idea if she really preferred one colour over another or if, like me, she tended to love what suited the moment.  Then again, her car, the one she had for the 17 years I knew her, was a deep forest green.      Mom's love of green was sometimes puzzling to me as a child.  It seemed lik...

     Just about every family has its own special cure for the common cold.  Mention your sniffles, and you'll get suggestions from all sides.  Some are as simple and predictable as chicken soup, and others are more arcane.  Perhaps this is the natural result of not having an official medicinal cure for the problem.  We have to fight, so we try all sorts of things and hang onto what makes us feel a little better.  At least we feel like we've done something about it.      The primary reason science has had such a hard time with the common cold, as I understand, is that it is as good at adapting to new conditions as the human beings it infects.  Colds change.  They resist attempts to wipe them out, and medicine that might have worked in the past isn't guaranteed to work again.  Fighting a cold can't be done by putting on your heavy armour and reaching for a big sword (metaphorically...or literally, I guess.)  It's...

     Some months ago, I was stopped by an employee as I walked through the store.  The young man only stated that I had a very confident stride, and then he moved on.  There was no follow up offer to direct me toward my goal.  The kid was half my age, so this was no flirtation.  It was simply a random compliment from a stranger.  Who knows?  Maybe he was a theatre student just trying to be observant about the way people move.  I was focused at  the time, knew what I wanted to buy and where to find it.  So, chances are, I was moving in a direct fashion.  It wouldn't be unusual.  The comment threw me momentarily, but I found it amusing and continued my course with a smile.      Now, months later, I still think about it.  For one thing, I am more conscious of the way I walk.  As a writer, naturally, I paid attention to all the ways people tend to move, and I wasn't unaware of my own tendencies....

We call her "Mother Nature" because despite the occasional antagonistic philosophies that have popped up throughout history, most people recognize Her motherly qualities. On an instinctual level, we know that this is where we're from, not what we've made. She nourishes and teaches. She loves all her children equally. She can be strict, for certain. You're never too old to be "spanked" if you're disrespectful or ignore what she's telling you. But, for one who has spent a lifetime in close contact with Her, there's no denying the motherly aspect. Like a family, we are all sprung from this parent and all bound together through Her, too. Growing up as I did, in an isolated community by the lake and, before that, at the edge of the woods, I came to know Mother Nature well. She taught me, fed me, let me climb in Her trees and swim in Her waters. You don't forget the ones who raised you. They weave their pattern into your life. So, wherever I go...