Author Archive

Harvest

by

When we moved to town, I gave up a large garden and sometimes I really miss it, not only for the harvest of veggies and flowers it provided but also for the learning… Continue reading

Crack Me Up: Connie Sobchak finds several signs that her sense of humour is in tact

by

There’s a billboard on the right just past the Lightfoot gas station in Lillooet and I enjoy chuckling at their latest message. Recently, the joke cracked me up good: Earlier this summer, we… Continue reading

Never be Ashamed of a Walk in the Woods

by

After a summer of relative inactivity, three hill repeats out of the suggested ten on the One Mile Lake circuit had my legs burning. On the fourth, I thought, maybe this is actually… Continue reading

A Different Perspective: why Connie Sobchak wants to be able to fly

by

I’ve been thinking of learning to fly. They say you can do anything you put your mind to so that’s going to be it. I don’t need to soar to great heights. About… Continue reading

The Parts Archive

by

It doesn’t take much for the conversation to shift to all things mechanical in some company – not my company, certainly, definitely, and most emphatically. However, one brother is a heavy duty mechanic… Continue reading

Cornflower

by

Well, it started out innocently enough. I took photos of every flowering plant that I saw while I waited for Mickey to sniff everything he found sniffworthy. Aware that many of these plants… Continue reading

Airbrushing Nature – when chasing our own version of perfection might mean death, or a very unhealthy unsustainable planet, at the least

by

As I gazed at the images from my last run, deleting blurry ones and repeats, I came close to obliterating the fly that was marring one of the waterlily pictures I had taken.… Continue reading

Saturday Night on the 1100 Road

by

We had spent the day repairing bluebird nest boxes and were about sixty kilometres off highway 97 in ranch country west of Clinton. The freshly graded road allowed us to zip along at… Continue reading

Symbolism, meditation running and the X that marks the spot

by

Jet streams crossed in the sky and beneath the “x” sat a white crowned sparrow, nonchalantly eyeing me. It didn’t chirp or peep or sing; it didn’t even move; I wondered if it… Continue reading

Bluebird day

by

Bluebird boxes perched on the edges of fence posts became a sort of treasure to spy first as we leapfrogged our way across the Caribou Plateau in a caravan of SUV’s. At each… Continue reading

  • Follow The Winds of Change on WordPress.com
  • Categories