In, around and beyond our village
The 1980s were a turbulent decade for Poles living under the yoke of General Wojciech Jaruzelski and the communist Polish People’s Republic (PRL). By 1987, the regime was struggling with a severe … Continue reading An Illegal Immigrant
The 1980s were a turbulent decade for Poles living under the yoke of General Wojciech Jaruzelski and the communist Polish People’s Republic (PRL). By 1987, the regime was struggling with a severe … Continue reading An Illegal Immigrant
by Paula Halpin It’s a glorious morning in March. I’m nursing a warm cappuccino as I gaze idly out my dining room window searching for early signs of spring. Nothing … Continue reading Look what I made, Mom
When people complain about the length of the winter, I tell them that, personally, as an immigrant to Canada in my late thirties, I simply haven’t had enough winter in my life.
“And that’s when I discovered, by talking to our collection of friendly, new, and very welcoming, neighbours, that the name Rupert was indeed a priceless pillar in our community and would be well worth me getting to know.”
Approaching a new year often invites reflection. Today, my thoughts turn to a trail I walked a lot this past year—the steady wander and short climb to Lac Brown lookout. … Continue reading View from the Bench
Sitting down to write on a snowy Sunday in November is a rather pleasant undertaking. There is a quiet inside and out and I enjoy sipping a cup of cardamom … Continue reading Mementos
I’ve been working on being a D.O.G. for my entire life
Last September I travelled to the Scottish Highlands. As my husband was set to join me in the UK following my walk on the West Highland Way, it was critical … Continue reading Wandering: A Way of Life?
Let’s have a debate my friends. Just for fun. The question I have for you is ..“What environment do you think is more dangerous? Living in the big city? Or life in the countryside, right here in our own back yard? You get to decide….
By Paul J. Hetzler My francophone wife is often amused as I commence à apprendre la langue, like the time I said connard when I meant canard. For the monolingual English-speakers out there, canard means duck, … Continue reading Fowl Behaviour
I woke up feeling off. Not sick, not sad—just heavy. The kind of heaviness that arrives unannounced, like claggy mud clinging to well-walked boots. The world’s unrest had settled squarely … Continue reading The Road to Farrellton
Is she a spirit bird, I wonder? I see no evidence of her colony, but then I’m not walking by the shore and looking out over the river to see … Continue reading The Cormorant(s)
Wandering Wakefield 