My husband hitched rides all over the world when he was young. I’ve only dared it a few times, including a ride, on a heavy rainy day, up the sunshine coast, and once when we hitchhiked to our honeymoon.
Bend in the road is a story about a canoe trip down the Rideau river, hitchhiking and regrets. (See Links 33)
Coming Soon : Forgetting Mrs Sprout
Two days after we moved in Mrs Sprout came through our always unlocked back door, strode up the 3 narrow steps into her old kitchen, searched the top of my new fridge for tickets to a concert at the NAC. She asked if I’d taken them, and questioned what I’d done.
“We are all compost for worlds we cannot yet imagine.” (David Whyte)
Composting has always been a bit of a surprise, an experiment: I never quite know what will slowly, and sometimes suddenly grow out of the bins’ corners.
And I am a composition of all the good wishes and warnings, insightful and thoughtless, helpful and spiteful comments, all the conversations I have ever had, and not just the ones I remember and took to heart, but all the ones I have forgotten, dismissed, ignored, rejected, ridiculed.
What is it about free wine, food, free anything, that sends so many of us into a tizzy?
Interestingly, we sometimes question the virtue of free items because we judge them to have no, or low, quality. In our minds we unfairly de-value the thing, decide that there must be something wrong, if it’s free.