chocolate is a verb

colors, flavors, whims and other growing things


snowdrops are up
It’s not yet mid-January and the snowdrops are up.

Home from a four-day poetry writing retreat on Vancouver Island, my head and notebook are stuffed with poems – my own and others’ – and the astute wisdom of Patrick Lane. I made many beginnings, left many trails of breadcrumbs to follow another time, and wrestled a few poems into drafts. The music of shared poetry resonates through my day in astonishing images and surprising echoes along with the generous gifts of trust, listening and compassion.

There’s much to do. Winter work. Unready for spring, the vegetable garden awaits my attention. Fruit trees and hydrangeas and poems need pruning.

I’m not quite ready for the snowdrops. “Hurry, hurry,” they urge, “Begin.”

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