Declared

The Carpenter and I have entered year two of an NFL pool and this year, I’ve deflated my water-wings to dive in with an enthusiasm he wasn’t quite prepared for. Yep, this football season, I’m making waves. 

Web

She dangled from the eavestrough of the barn, upside down and balled up, completely content in a matrix of invisible thread. She was about the size of a toonie. 

Back at it

We’re back at it: the routine that September brings. Full calendars. Coordinated schedules. Structured time. Registration fees. The never-ending saga of the question that has no easy answer: “what do you want for dinner?”

Butter

Corn on the cob is about as genuine an end-of-summer tradition as any end-of-summer tradition gets and I am here for it. But it’s not because of the corn so much as it is the butter. It’s all about the butter. 

Quack

I have two words for you: chicken yoga. Wait, hear me out. Chickens are lovely creatures. They need to investigate everything. Skittish, but not anxious. They are fluffy and poised, able to meander about with effortless confidence that borders on arrogant and indifferent. Good qualities.