Many years ago when my babies were fussy, I would hold them tight and sing Elvis Presley’s song, “Are you Lonesome Tonight.” I would sing the same words over and over again in a soft, crooning voice. Maybe not a typical lullaby, but it would calm them…

Despite the anxiety it causes, I am a last-minute person, fueled by deadlines. It has taken me years to realize that this is a schedule that works for me. I’ve tried to change. I’ve bought umpteen planners…

My world is very quiet these days. I expect yours is too. Last night I stood on our island deck and there was not a sound to be heard. No cars, planes, or cargo ships passing through Georgia Strait. No tree frogs, owls, or rustling leaves – even the crowing rooster on the neighbouring farm, whose internal clock is out of whack, was silent.

After a night of heavy rain, the sun peeks out from behind the clouds this morning and a blustery wind blows the leaves off the oak tree in the backyard. It is Thanksgiving weekend.

I woke up this morning to the sound of foghorns drifting across the Straight of Georgia. What a mournful sound to wake up to after a night of undisturbed sleep, a rarity these days. I stretched luxuriously and opened my eyes to see fog blanketing our field.

This has been a wonderful week! On Monday I escaped to our island getaway, all by myself, with only my old dog for company. I am here for a couple of weeks, nurturing my soul with some much needed solitude.

Transition is simply the path between possibilities. I’m swimming now in the middle of some minor transitions. This is good because while I’m midstream, I get a better view of the shore.

On Friday, if you had peeked into my life, you would have found me curled up in bed, with my book, and my dog, and the fan blowing cool air. At what time you ask? Well, pretty much all day!

I have spent most of this first week of September sitting at my desk. I am delving into new projects, cleaning up files, and replenishing office supplies – indulging in my favourite Pilot fineliner pens and bright, coloured Post-its.

Today is the last day of our island holiday. I was going to give myself a reprieve from writing a blog post this week but sitting here with my morning coffee, reluctant to start cleaning and packing, I find myself scribbling a few lines…

At the age of 10, I knew I was fat – not that anyone in my family was actually rude enough to say so – no, insinuations were enough.

Eight months and thirty-two blog posts ago when I began Ageless Possibilities, I shared my first three blog posts with a few trusted friends for their honest feedback.

The chanting floats into the room, softly building momentum, and then soars upwards to the vaulted roof. The voices catch in the ceiling fan and drift out to the deck, where they are carried on a breeze towards where I sit by the pond.

This morning I woke up in the spare room, the room that faces east. I was restless last night, my hips and legs were aching and I was worried that I was keeping my husband awake.

Ambiguous loss makes us feel incompetent. It erodes our sense of mastery and destroys our belief in the world as a fair, orderly, and manageable place.

Welcome to the brink of everything. It takes a lifetime to get here, but the stunning view of past, present, and future—and the bracing breeze in your face—make it worth the trip.

I am a planner. Give me a project or an event and I will make lists, create action plans, and develop outcomes. I will stay on schedule…

Those of you who follow my Facebook page will know that I have been on the island for the past month preparing my mother for her move into seniors housing. What a whirlwind it has been!

On my morning walks with Tucker, on the road behind my home, I regularly encounter a woman who I assume must live close by….

Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.