Marion Agnew

Oh, May. What a month.  This is what luck looks like. Many things happened. Mostly spring-related. In spring, our driveway becomes a viscous (and also vicious but mostly viscous) mixture of mud and snow. To keep the driveway from developing deep ruts (and to ensure that my Corolla can get out safely), I park near the end, where it joins the asphalt street. A neighbour suggested (correctly) that I shouldn't park directly IN the driveway in the (unlikely) event that emergency vehicles need to come in. Fair enough. So I didn't. I found a grassy spot and parked in the grass, under a tall spruce. When my husband and I ran errands one Monday, we noted that the driveway was fairly firm under our boots, and we chatted about the huge woodpecker holes in the trunk of the spruce. I looked up: "Yeah, but it's hanging in there--cones at the top, and the needles are green." He agreed it would probably hang in there until an autumn storm.  You can see where this is going, probab...

Already mid-January. It's been eventful, but not so much of the interesting kind. More of the workaday kind in my life (and horrific in the world), and talking about those types of events isn't especially helpful.  twisty snowy branches But one thing that I've understood in a different way, after experiencing of those events, is the need for a foundation. In a literal sense, like a foundation for your home, and a figurative one, like something you really need to make your life possible (or okay, that lets you live your life with the ease to which you have become accustomed).  Side note: here's a brief invisible-to-you pause while I searched a couple of things and got sidetracked learning about foundation garments. Sometimes it's interesting to be alive long enough to see times changing. (In the global sense, not so much, but we aren't talking about those events.) My point is that in rural northwestern Ontario, we need a car that does well in snow and icy conditi...

For  several months, I've been keeping track of five things  I'd like to remember from that month. Here's what came up in December.   One. Eat the heart of the lettuce first. My wise sister taught me this when she was here this summer. As a person living alone who loves to cook and eat, she often buys produce that has a shorter shelflife than her ability to eat it. So she has learned to take apart the lettuce head and eat the inner leaves, which are her favourites, first. If she ate her way into the centre, the inner leaves might be past their prime and unpleasant--and meanwhile, she’s spent days eating her less-favourite part before getting to the good stuff. It’s taking me time to think about this practice, but it’s fun.  Sometimes changing perspective is as easy as taking a photo from the upstairs window instead of the "usual" one downstairs  Two. Delay gratification. This thought seems the opposite of the previous one. It’s also something our parents insis...

Consilience, a UK literary journal (but also everywhere because it's online), has a tagline: "exploring the spaces where the sciences and the arts meet."   A frozen river winding through a forest?  It publishes art and poetry in themed issues. If you submit a poem to an issue, you also submit a science statement that explains the science behind your submission. The theme for Issue 23 was Tension , and I have a poem in it! That is correct: in spite of my greater comfort with prose, I wrote and submitted a poem, and it was accepted (after revisions).  You can read "Questions of Cohesion" here.  It's about my husband, me, marriage, holding us together, keeping things out.  Future themes include "infinity," "pollution," and "birds."  It's so interesting to see how people make connections to the themes. Scope out some of the previous issues (all free to read) at the website!.

In October I mentioned that sometimes I don’t have answers for some of the things I think about; I only have questions. It’s a failing of mine, especially when I write essays. (Or so I’m told.) I’m supposed to write an answer. But sometimes really all I have are questions. I feel so seen. In the context of writing an essay, I understand what the person means when I receive this feedback. I need to come to rest at some point late in the essay, even if it’s not a full stop or a final destination. It’s at least a pause, a “so far, here’s what I think“ moment. Basically, it’s an answer to the reader’s question, “So what?“ Not a “lesson” for them to learn. Just a breath. A “Thanks for spending time with me! See you later!“ In life (the part that isn’t writing, or perhaps writing for publication), I may always have questions. And I really want to ask (myself) the right questions. Good questions—useful to me, and therefore perhaps to others, though that’s not required. Meanwhile the writing a...

People enjoy feeling wistful—at least that’s what I’ve come to think. Especially in the autumn. Yes it’s beautiful, but rhapsodizing about “the red maples, the yellow birches, all against the evergreen backdrop!” feels to me to be more about grasping the last of summer than a way to welcome a new season. messing about in a rowboat Admittedly, autumn as a season on the calendar stretches far longer than the leaves stay on the trees, and it is difficult to find beauty of the traditional “eye catching flame in the trees” sort come late October early November. In my ongoing series of thoughts about obituaries and saying goodbye and wrapping up a person‘s life, I’m also thinking just in general about endings and beginnings and changing. Possibly it’s a way to deal with things (waves hands at “the world today"), but possibly it’s because I’m approaching a birthday ending in five. This birthday requires me to sign up for things—or not. To make choices that will affect my long-term future...

Here are five things I'd like to remember from February. Not all pleasant, but notable. One. Sometimes it’s worth going into rooms you don’t go into often, just to make sure there’s no dead bird lying in the floor. It apparently fell down the chimney of a long-unused woodstove. I mean, if it had actually happened, which it did, hypothetically. And I guess come spring it’s worth looking into what happened to the screen over that chimney. Roy says it was an owl. I didn’t look too closely. Two. There may come a day when I don’t enjoy shoveling snow—and for sure if I had to do it more often and for longer sessions than I do, I’d be less enthusiastic—but there’s also something reassuring about accepting snowfall in SOME places (grass, trees, rocks, lake ice) but not HERE or HERE (sidewalk, back deck, front porch). Control, but really an illusion of it, because we all know that the snow’s really in charge here. Three. Two words: finishing sugar. I get it now. I don’t understand why pe...

I didn't celebrate the turn from 2024 to 2025 with champagne at midnight (or anything at midnight beyond snoozing). I'm not against traditional celebrations. They can be fun--I've been to several different kinds of parties and observations of the new year.  Yet some rituals of the new year are always available to me, and I find I'm observing and enjoying them. Paperblanks, ordered from my local bookstore,  along with a well-loved Filofax Folio. For example:  I’ve pulled out folders and written 2025 on them, moving the 2024 information to the “tax stuff” spot Making hard choices from among the plethora of opportunities, I’ve added some events to my calendar for January I’m writing in the new nice notebooks  We’re seeing Christmas cards in our mailbox, which is nice—since the postal strike ended, we’ve received mostly junk, and that’s not nearly as fun I’ve watched (several times a brief video (or several) of someone painting with watercolours That last one is less abo...

Earlier this year I mentioned my gratitude practice, explained (more or less) how it works (more or less), and shared some of the recent specific things that had appeared on my gratitude list at that time.   Six months later, it’s time for more gratitudes. At present, I’m grateful for many of the big-picture items I mentioned in June, plus these specifics, in no particular order: Enough snow that our well is not frozen and may hold its own when spring arrives Life in the country, where we marvel at small birds at the feeder and big birds in the sky, and we watch deer grow from fawns to adulthood People who drive the speed limit (or slower!) in neighbourhoods when they’re driving on ice, even if they’re driving a ginormous truck and think they don’t have to slow down; I doubt that they’re doing it to keep from frightening walkers but that’s a happy side effect Our local bookstore, Entershine Bookshop, which has become an integral part of the local writing and reading community ...

The year is waning, as is the amount of daylight in individual days; both will soon wax again.  Meanwhile, here are some of the sights. Also sites (certainly familiar locations to anyone who follows me on social media). Also sighs, which is what I'd originally typed instead of sights.  The evening sky Because even after twenty years here, ten years in northern Colorado before that, and five years in the mountains of New Mexico before THAT, the first snowstorm--the first REAL one, the first that stays--still daunts me.  But in the space of three or four days, we've now had two. And managed. Here it comes And I continue  my ongoing "wayfinding" efforts . I'm looking for lampposts, bits of joy (also called "glimmers" I think). Recently, I had a great time volunteering with Dementia Cafe (and have the chance to next weekend as well).  Yesterday I saw old bananas in the grocery store and got an urge to make banana bread. Maybe I resemble Simone m ore than I...

Yes, I'm aware that it's already October--we're not even in the FIRST days of autumn anymore. However, the weather is very summer-like (and too dry!), so summer's experiences have been on my mind. Also, September was a full month. Besides extending the summer "I want to be outdoors" feeling as long as possible, I had a couple of events. Early-ish in the month, I shared a book signing with David Giuliano, Marathon-based author of The Undertaking of Billy Buffone (Latitude 46), at Indigo Thunder Bay. It was fun to see friends and spend time in the local branch of the national chain.  I'm on the left Later, I hosted a stop on the Northern Tour for Rod Carley's new novel, Ruff , also from Latitude 46. We had a great chat at the library about all things creativity, Shakespeare, midlife crises, plagues/pandemics, and everything old being new again.  Rod signing copies of Ruff Between and among those events and the regular Activities of Daily Living, I'v...

August held lots of weather. Hot and humid days worthy of June in Oklahoma, cool rainy days hearkening back to April (perhaps? March?) in Oklahoma, and a share of those cool night/bright and sunny days that are so typical of Augusts of my memory. And now it's September, with its "back to school" or even "the other new year" vibe. Certainly my holiday is over--my sister has gone back home to her regular life, the weather is changing further, events are beginning again in town.  AND! Some of those events on the horizon include me! First, on September 17, I'll be doing a joint signing with David Giuliano at Thunder Bay's Indigo location from 11 to 1. We'll share short readings, discuss our books, and sign whatever you like!  David is a fellow Latitude 46 Publishing author. His award-winning novel, THE UNDERTAKING OF BILLY BUFFONE, is set in Marathon and is a satisfying, layered who- and why-dunnit. A former Moderator of the United Church of Canada, he...

We don't garden, exactly, but there's a rosebush on the septic field that produces lovely small blooms in August.  It also gets kind of weedy, and in previous years, I've taken some pruning shears to what appeared to me to be "dead branches." Did I know what I was doing? Nope. Did I do any research? Nah. I was just doing what was obvious. (Narrator: not so obvious.) This year, we had little snow and (in spite of a lot of rain in June), a relatively hot and dryish summer, so our well has been iffy. On occasion, we top it up from the lake, using the pump system at the camp next door.  This year, when I'm not actively putting water from the garden hose into the well (and no, we don't drink the well water), I've been leaving the (somewhat leaky) spray gun on the septic field. I also had the bright idea of leaving it close to the base of the rosebush. And this has been the result!   In case those photos aren't clear, green leaves and some blooms are spr...

Back in September, I mentioned adding a Fitbit into my life and said I'd talk about it some other time . This, apparently, is that time. First, what it is: A Fitbit (like several other brands of sportswatch, I'm assuming) gives you data. It can track steps and types of exercise, as well as specific exercise sessions. The distance you've gone. How much you weigh, how many calories you have burned or should burn based on a goal weight, how restful your sleep was, how mindful you've been (based on their own meditations), and a bunch of other stuff.  A caveat: the data isn't even necessarily especially accurate. I mean, we've all heard stories of people clocking steps while lifting a wineglass, right? So here's a thing: I'm not in training for anything. Other than life, I guess. Sure, I've competed as a swimmer, runner, and triathlete (though not very competitively, if you know what I mean), and I've tried and obsessed over various methods of improvi...

Hi there--things behind the scenes of my wee website overhaul are edging ever-more closely to completion. But things behind the scenes are more complicated, and go more slowly, than one might imagine. Gray Fox on the deck. She hasn't been around much in the past couple of weeks. You'd think I'd have learned all this from watching those home renovation shows through the years. I guess it's different when it's your edifice (virtual or architectural) that they're renovating. It actually doesn't come together in a half-hour. We've had a tepid and muggy summer, when it's not cool and rainy. I've been solving problems right and left (refrigerators, most recently), and not getting outdoors near often enough. However.  On the up side, all the not-writing activities have allowed a seed to germinate. Perhaps. I'm fertilizing it and watching it, and meanwhile, working with it gives me ten or fifteen solid lovely minutes of creativity every day. It's...

I jotted down a few random thoughts during the past week and only as I was readying this post did I realize they all have to do with letting go. (I'm sorry if that gave you an Elsa earworm.) Letting Go of Electronics The first has to do with recycling. I take seriously the "reduce" and "reuse" parts of responsible, ecological living. Still, sometimes, you gotta recycle, which always makes me feel as if I'm getting away with something. Figuring out where to drop electronics, specifically, gives me some exponential version of that feeling. Because sometimes you put random electronic items that are long past their useful life into a box, and only occasionally (once in ten or more years) do you wonder what to do with them.  To be clear, we're not people who go through electronics quickly. No "latest" version of anything in this house. These items weren't just "obsolete" in technology terms; they were actual decades old in human years,...