or maybe she’s a jane…. i was unrolling the hose from the rain-collecting barrel, muttering beneath my breath, because the hose was all spiral bendy and the flow of water weak. when did the barrel become so full, i wondered. shaking my head, and caught sight of a large planter. i released the hose for it to sproing away from me as i strode toward the planter. i would use it to pin down the rebellious thing.
when leapt away an enormous rabbit! it hopped a few metres away from me, then stood poised, its tan and umber fur perfectly camouflaged against the wintering grass. only its ears were white, preparing for the snow. counting on the snow. (and if the snow stops coming, will the rabbits stop turning white? how much time do they have? how much time do we have?)
run rabbit, run. run toward the snow. carry us toward our shared future.

Vancouver was marvellous. I had been living on the west coast for the past six/seven? years before coming to Edmonton this August. How brilliant the many leaves. Crimsom-bright, saturated yellows, against wet rich green grass. How marvellous, I thought, to go away and come back and see again anew.

The Vancouver Writers’ Festival events were delightful. I was amazed and deeply gladdened by the brightness and confidence of the young audience members. Engaged, inquisitive and articulate it’s a privilege to be able to share talk, ideas, conversations with these glowing minds.

Now time to hunker in, out of the cold, and into words and dreamings. The clock ticks in the night quiet. If you close your eyes the dreams come alive.