On the day that I got my visitor’s card at the library here, I borrowed Marie-Louise Gay’s Mustafa (2018): a children’s story (Gay illustrates, writes, and translates) about a boy who searches for himself, in the space between his old country and his new country. Certains soirs, Mustafa rêve
This is the fifth year that I’ve been reading Margaret Atwood in November, in the month of her birthday (November 18) and in every other one of those years I’ve borrowed books from the library that I did not manage to read. This year, I selected only two books
The house across the street has a single row of clear white lights along the eaves and it’s built close to the ground, cabin-style, with trees on all sides. Behind it, the trees erupt out of Shield rock that is nearly as tall as the apartment building in the
Already it has turned too chilly to sit outdoors and read, unless the sun is shining, which it was not when I wanted to sit with Payback and Dancing Girls this week. But it’s still warm enough to be comfortable in a sweater to do the raking and burlapping (isn’t
As you might guess, many kilometres north now, I’ve found that the weather grows cold more quickly. It was a shock to change the bedding, to the December-Freeze set, at the end of September. To pull the scarves and toques from the closet (but not, quite, mittens and gloves).
