My little paradise - bits of the garden, the deck, and the patio at the end of the back 40. (My property is nearly 200 feet long. Told you - it's my own personal park.)
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Info about my new memoir
Print and e-books of my new memoir, Loose Woman: my odyssey from lost to found, are available for purchase at many retailers including Ben McNally, Indigo, Kindle, and Amazon, with an audiobook read by me soon available at Audible. Order your copy here.
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Blog Archive
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2010
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June
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- about privacy and the new kind of grandmother
- What do the rest of us think?
- calming down
- summit aftermath
- The black bloc are NOT protesters
- letter to the Editor of the "Star"
- Monday, getting our city back
- Sunday night in the downpour
- reporting from the riot zone
- 1 p.m., Queen's Park - let's march
- the Council of Canadians hooray
- reporting on the madness
- Wayson's lecture on "Ideas"
- G20 paranoia
- on into summer and two requests
- la reponse
- ???
- What are those big white things anyway??
- Heaven in Cabbagetown
- more about this writing workshop, and the next
- blowing own horn yet again
- close encounters
- Ellen Roseman's "Financial Basics"
- the art thing
- Garden workshop June 27
- my bit of heaven
- Boston joy for Laurel
- Macca returns
- Write in the Garden June 27, deadline June 13
- Obama and Paul and the winding road home
- Philly
- Hello, Brucie
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June
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Some blogs I follow
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a Sunday miscellany2 days ago
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Light in the Darkness3 days ago
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book banning is tyranny1 year ago
Gorgeous. I'm green with envy. I'd love a garden like that some day, but I can only do a very little at a time due to my carpal tunnel and fibromyalgia.
ReplyDeleteWe must have the same face because I am constantly having total strangers come up to me, swearing they know me from somewhere! Very odd.
Mary, it is gorgeous, but it is also a lot of work, something else to worry about and spend money on. So just as well you don't have a big garden.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad to hear the same thing happens to you, because sometimes it's spooky, and I wonder if I'm living a double life without knowing it or something.
Perhaps we are.