For the Love of Earth
How shall we live? As if we believe in the future. As if everyone one of us is a seed, which as you know is a sacred thing. Janisse Ray
Author: Yolande Karin Fenny
Grief, Grace and Gratitude
It is said, nature is a healer and I feel that every day, surrounded by nature’s beauty with the fields and the woods at my doorstep.
Notice-new format
As summer comes to an end and routine stares us in the face, the Wandering Wakefield bloggers are resurfacing to a new blog format which we hope allows for greater … Continue reading Notice-new format
A Journey of a Different Kind
February 23rd dawned early for us. The night before, the much-dreaded forecast of freezing rain had come to fruition. Our long lane was a skating rink. Impassable. Thankfully and with great foresight, Steve had moved the car to the front field, sanded the two hilly spots and left a bucket of sand near the car.
The Cremation of Sam McGee
by Robert Service There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales … Continue reading The Cremation of Sam McGee
Fennyland
My granny’s name is Fenny because she comes from Fennyland.
Cycling Le Grand Sentier
Emails were exchanged, enthusiasm abounded, dates were set and changed, and in the end, we landed on a spectacular morning to set out on a ride of discovery.
The Heart Will Go On
Everybody’s got to be happy. Everyone should sing
For we know the joy of life, the peace that love can bring.
In Memoriam
Silence speaks when words cannot.
Where the Wild Things Are
This communion with the creatures that inhabit the land, waters, and skies where I live, fills me with awe and joy and I stood transfixed enjoying my good fortune.
Chapters
Life is moments. Life is magical. Life is the mundane. Life can be hard, unjust, and cruel. Life can be beauty and light. Life in all its complexities has seasons … Continue reading Chapters
Tradition and the Ties That Bind
Stories came not just from my father’s imagination or the books we read, stories also came every week in a letter from my grandmother to my mother, and by extension, to all of us.
Wandering Wakefield 