Tuesday July 31st, 2012

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: two.

Yeah, I'm not sure how that's going to work out for everybody, but seeing as today marks two years since Kat and I were married, I don't much care. We've got two and we're all just going to have to deal with it!

We took the day off, which was nice. Had lunch up in Naramata, at one of the winery bistros we visited on our brief, local honeymoon after the wedding (in other words, not the Jamaica honeymoon, which came several months later). Took this before heading home:

Kat's friend arrived just in time for dinner this evening - looking forward to putting her to work tomorrow as we harvest for this week's restaurant order!


Nice to meet you. Blink.
Without a doubt, I do. Blink.
Two years later. Blink.

*     *     *

After years as ones,
we became two. Not long now
until we are three.

Monday July 30th, 2012

The exercise:

Let us write around the theme of: underwater.

Thanks, Metric. I was feeling pretty stuck for a prompt there.

Another busy harvest day for our local customers, with us once again managing to find enough produce for everybody. I'm really quite pleased with how the box program is going so far, and I'm glad that last winter Kat was able to convince me to try it out.

A friend of Kat's is coming tomorrow to stay with us for the rest of the week and I'm very much looking forward to having her around, both for her company and for her help in the garden.


He leans against the railing at the side of the boat, staring down into still waters while his fishing rod sits forgotten to his right. His mind flicks from one thought to the next, like a panicking fish flopping about on the deck.

There is a desire for calm, but he has no real hope of landing that particular state. Every few minutes he catches a glimpse of it in the corner of his eye, but it disappears before he can so much as turn his head.

Raising his gaze to the horizon, he confirms once again that there is no other craft in sight. He is utterly, completely alone on the water.

Lowering his head, he wonders if his ex-wife is equally alone underwater as she sinks inexorably to the ocean bed.

Sunday July 29th, 2012

The exercise:

Write a little something about: the ridge.

Slept in big time to start the day, which was definitely needed. Not much happened after that until we realized we'd forgotten about the ten pounds of blueberries we bought at the market yesterday - that's when the washing and freezing began.

After dinner I cleared out most of the monster weeds that had been closing in our blackberry bushes, as those are starting to ripen. We'll see how many are out there tomorrow, but hopefully at least some of our box program customers will get a pint this week.


Legs burning, the straps of his backpack threatening to tear through his shoulders, Lucas tried to keep his focus on the path beneath his feet as he trudged upward. Looking ahead was too disheartening. All that he'd find there would be more hill and the easy, relaxed stride of Matthias, his younger brother.

When had the balance of strength and endurance shifted between them? Lucas couldn't be sure. It seemed like only yesterday he had been the leader of their hikes, forever at the side of the trail waiting for a sighting of Matthias' bright red, sweating face.

Getting old was not something Lucas liked to think about, and he wasn't about to start now. He returned his focus to moving onward and upward. And not keeling over from a heart attack.

Without warning the ground leveled out and he brought his gaze upward. They had finally, mercifully reached the ridge and the view was breathtaking.

"Not bad, huh?" Matthias asked with a wide smile.

"Spectacular." Lucas wanted to say more but he couldn't find the oxygen for it. Maybe something about all that torture being worth it. Instead he reached for his nearly empty water bottle and began to think fondly of the return journey they were about to commence.

"I know, right?" Matthias laughed, sounding as though he could recite Moby-Dick without pausing for breath. "Just wait until you see the view from the next ridge!"

Saturday July 28th, 2012

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: fame.

Pretty decent market today, even with selling a lot of produce to the restaurant yesterday. We brought the last of our apricots and sold most of them, with the leftovers destined for our harvest boxes on Monday. And it was the best market so far for my greeting cards, which definitely put me in a good mood.

This evening I watched a couple of TED talks with Kat, and this one in particular seemed like something you guys would want to see.


I want to walk these streets
Without drawing second looks;
I don't want people to know me,
I just want them to know my books.

Friday July 27th, 2012

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the jeweler.

Busy morning, as we ended up harvesting for the market, the restaurant, and the local bakery.

Right, I don't think I've mentioned the bakery before now. Not sure how I managed that. Anyway, a young couple opened a new bakery in town last month and it's really fantastic. All their breads are made with sourdough starters and take three days to make - and are totally worth the wait. And of course they also make pastries and assorted goodies.

We met them through a mutual friend, and the fact that they were expecting their first child added to the connection (she just gave birth last week to a baby boy). We've been supplying them with some herbs, fruit, and veggies for their creations - today I brought by zucchini, onions, cherry tomatoes, and garlic, most of which will be going into their Focaccia bread.

I think we're very lucky to have such a great business open up in a small town like this, as it really would seem more at home in Vancouver.


With Eastern European blood in his veins, an open shirt displaying his grey chest hairs, heavy gold rings clasping three of the fingers on his left hand, and a thick chain around his neck, Anthony definitely looked the part of a legit jeweler. There was some discussion about the addition of a gold cap on a tooth or two, but in the end it was considered unnecessary.

We were convinced of his authenticity just by looking at him. We could only hope the mobsters would be similarly duped.

Thursday July 26th, 2012

The exercise:

Write about something that has been: uncovered.

Finished weeding the beets this morning, then got started on the squash plants (which are even worse off than the beets were, but at least there are fewer of them). Things are starting to look a little more reasonable out there.

Harvesting for the market tomorrow, potentially along with an order for the restaurant. Things have been a little chaotic over there recently, with the head chef on medical leave and his replacement leaving to go back to school in a couple of weeks. Hopefully things settle down soon, both for their sake and ours.


That which they kept hidden
Is now lit by the sun;
We all gather around,
Each one of us is stunned.

How could we be deceived,
So taken by their lies?
No, let truth be spoken:
We covered our own eyes.

Wednesday July 25th, 2012

The exercise:

Write something to do with: beat/beats/beating.

Do it for fun. Do it for practice. Do it in honor of all those beets I weeded around today.

Haven't shared a picture in a while, so here's one I took tonight at sunset of the tail end of a storm that passed by on the other side of the lake on its journey northward:

Technically that was taken from our deck. There may have been a ladder involved. I may have been trying to get on the roof.

I may have been disappointed the ladder wasn't quite tall enough to do that safely.


The beatings will continue until morale improves

On his first day at work, Chris had thought the sign on his supervisor's office door was just a bit of black humor. He considered it a good sign, that his new coworkers didn't take themselves too seriously.

He got to work on his first assignment with all the enthusiasm and energy a new employee was expected to have, asking questions as necessary. His supervisor checked in at regular intervals to see how things were progressing and to make sure Chris was in good spirits.

There was no evidence to be found that the sign was anything but a joke until Chris' third day. That was when Kevin across the hall disappeared for a few scream-filled hours and returned with an unexplained limp.

After that, Chris made sure to have a smile on his face whenever his supervisor dropped by.

Tuesday July 24th, 2012

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: driving.

Finally got around to harvesting the rest of our garlic this morning before getting to work on weeding out our beets. Poor buggers have not been enjoying our weather this season, though the same could not be said about the weeds around them.

This afternoon was mostly spent running errands in and around Penticton, some more successfully than others. I'm about ready for bed right now.


Drifting to the left,
oncoming traffic panics
while he checks his texts

*     *     *

Rage slowly building
until she unleashes it
upon innocents

Monday July 23rd, 2012

The exercise:

Let us discuss: the diary.

We got lucky with the weather this morning, as there was only a light drizzle for part of the time we were out in the garden. It was pretty nice to only do about half our usual harvest, even if it meant sacrificing our one full day off.

This afternoon I went to my doctor's office to get my head checked out. And not because I am crazy! Honest.

No, it was because a block of wood fell on it last night. (Don't ask. It's a stupid setup we have at our produce cooler that is now, well past time, going to be changed) Caught me just above my right ear, which, due to location and hair, makes seeing the wound clearly really difficult. I knew it bled a bit last night and had scabbed over by this morning, but I wanted to make sure I didn't need stitches and to make sure it was cleaned properly.

The doctor said it was more of an abrasion than a cut, and that the cause of the bleeding was likely a nicked artery. So all's well, and now I'm all up to date with my tetanus shots.

And my left arm hurts more than my head does.


Dear Diary,

I don't understand what's going on. At all.

The love of my unlife has locked himself in the bathroom and is refusing to come out. He won't answer any of my questions, he refuses to listen to reason. Maybe, after all these years, he's lost his mind?

It's the not knowing that's eating me up inside. Well, maybe a few stray maggots as well. But you know what I mean!

If I knew what was wrong, I could fix it. This relationship can be saved, but only if I can see what the problem is. Surely he understands that! So why won't he speak with me?

I can think of nothing that I've done that might have caused this mental breakdown. Perhaps that means it has nothing to do with me. But then, what does it have to do with?

Or, more infuriatingly, who?

Something more is going on here, Diary. I intend to find out what. And when I do, there will be a reckoning.

Eternally yours,

Sunday July 22nd, 2012

The exercise:

Write a little about: the affair.

Very relaxing morning and afternoon, mostly spent lounging on the deck in pretty much perfect temperatures. A gentle breeze, enough clouds to keep things reasonable.

There was a definite threat of another thunderstorm late afternoon, but it blew over without doing much of anything. Then this evening, with the forecast calling for an unpleasant morning tomorrow, Kat and I went out to the garden to do some harvesting for our local orders. We got a fair amount done before the mosquitoes made things excessively uncomfortable.

Hopefully we won't get too soaked finishing things off tomorrow.


It is a grim affair, this business between Death and his new companion. Speaking of it leaves an unpleasant taste on my tongue, and giving the matter any thought at all seems to darken my mind for days afterward.

The age difference between the two, while impossible to calculate with any accuracy, is deeply unsettling. One can tell just by looking at them when they are side by side that something indecent is afoot.

And it has come to my attention, just today in fact, that Death is using their relationship to further his own black agenda in the most despicable manner imaginable. I have it on good authority that he has been secretly poisoning the tips of his paramour's arrows! Disgusting!

This cannot be allowed to stand. We must bring this situation to an immediate end. The affair between Death and Cupid must be terminated.

Saturday July 21st, 2012

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about something that has been: found.

Another good market this morning, as we sold out of most everything again. Brought home a few cabbages, but those should keep until Monday for our box program customers. Even sold a few more of my greeting cards, which was a big relief as I hadn't sold any in the last month or so.

Looking forward to a quiet day off tomorrow.


Packing up our stall,
I discover an unexpected treat:
A local artist's CD
Sits waiting on the street.

Listened to it (a couple of times) once we got back home; it's really good. Will bring it back with us next week in case the person who dropped it comes looking for it. Won't be particularly sad if they don't.

Friday July 20th, 2012

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about something that goes: boom.

All set for another farmers market tomorrow morning. Bringing some impressive looking savoy cabbage this time, along with apricots, apples, plums, potatoes, broccoli, and two very lonely pints of raspberries.

The weather, it has not been kind to our berries this season.


This afternoon, at the conclusion of yet another wild storm, I heard the single loudest crack of thunder I have ever heard in my entire life. It made me jump, it made Kat jump, it shook the house. It sounded like a bomb going off in the sky above us.

Like, ten feet above us.

Thursday July 19th, 2012

The exercise:

Let us work with: clay.

Another hot one here today. This morning I started harvesting our garlic crop and so far it looks much, much better than last year's bulbs did. We left them in the ground too long last summer and I wanted to make sure that didn't happen again.

So far, so good.


"How was art class, honey?" Patty called from the kitchen when she heard the front door creak open just after nine o'clock.

"Same as usual," Harold said as he eased into the room, coat slung over his shoulder. "The teacher is convinced he's on his way to molding us into the next van Gogh or Rembrandt or whoever."

"Hey, I've seen your paintings - he just might be!"

"Please, our grandson has produced better with crayons and what he pulls out of his diapers." Harold was already safely out of sight before his wife could get a firm grip on one of her beloved wooden spoons. "You know it's true!"

"I don't pretend to know what people consider modern art," Patty muttered under her breath as she returned to the dishes. "But we sure could use the sort of money folk are paying for it these days."

Wednesday July 18th, 2012

The exercise:

Your theme for today: protect/protector/protection.

Because I couldn't settle on just one of them.

Saw our first cucumber of the year in the garden this morning. Wasn't quite big enough to harvest, but I imagine by Friday it will have made its way into our fridge. And shortly after that, our bellies.


His orders were clear: protect the princess at all costs.

Their journey was to be made under the cover of secrecy, misdirection, and whatever manner of deceit was required. During preparations several disguises were experimented with, until one was found for each of them that managed to fool the king.

In the week leading up to their planned departure the princess began to pretend that she had acquired a mysterious illness. First a nagging cough, then a loss of appetite. A few stray hairs left behind after tea with the highest ranking ladies of the castle. Finally, the day before their mission began, she fainted in the royal hall.

Confined to her room, with him as her only guard, only the royal doctor and her personal maid had access to the princess. Both were paid handsomely for their silence in regard to the pair's imminent disappearance, though both had been loyal servants to the king for so long that such bribes were entirely unnecessary.

Or so the princess and her protector believed...

Tuesday July 17th, 2012

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: online dating.

I was inspired by Cathryn's comment on yesterday's post, as Kat and I met through a dating site.

We made pancakes for dinner tonight, topped with whipped cream, fresh slices of apricots, and a compote made from some of last year's frozen blackberry crop. It was quite the treat.


His profile looks great,
but if all he says is true
why is he single?

*     *     *

Forget coffee shops,
bars, libraries; go online
to meet your soul's mate.

Monday July 16th, 2012

The exercise:

Write about: the start.

Seven years ago today I met Kat for the very first time. We marked the occasion by picking our first green beans (several pounds worth) and cherry tomatoes (only a couple) of the year.

Another busy harvest for locals today. We're now up to seven box program customers with the addition of our first family size box. Word of mouth is doing for us what ads in the paper and posters around town did not.


The first word always seems to be the hardest to get out. Such intense searching for the perfect opening, the impossible desire to get it right on the very first try. It has to make an impact, a lasting impression.

Time slows to a painfully awkward crawl as the struggle continues. The pressure mounts, crushing brainwaves into flat lines, destroying creativity. Eventually it reaches the point where any word is better than none.

Later it can be analyzed, likely replaced, preferably by something better, more appropriate. After all, that's what rewrites are for.

Sunday July 15th, 2012

The exercise:

Your word of the day: whirlwind.

We had a very quick visit from a friend of Kat's this weekend - she arrived Saturday morning with her aunt and then, because of crappy flight schedules, had to fly back out Sunday morning. It was great to see her again, but unfortunate that she wasn't able to stay for longer.

The heat finally broke today, as I don't think it got above thirty degrees. Hoping things stay reasonable for the next little bit.


He stands facing north atop the mountain, naked as the day he was brought into a world that never seemed to acknowledge or encourage his existence. In his left hand is a brown leather pouch, and from it he pulls a fistful of thorny seeds.

With a cry that is swallowed by the roar of the wind, he flings the spores out into the void and reaches into the pouch a second time. Turning to the west, he repeats this action, turns again. He continues until the final seeds are sent tumbling toward the east and raises his arms to reach for the black clouds gathering above him, as though he wishes to pull them down.

This is the beginning of the end, he is certain. It is time for those who have abused, ignored, and belittled him to pay the price for their transgressions. The whirlwinds will tear them apart, like starving dogs attacking a piece of bloody steak. He believes this with every fiber of his being.

His belief does not waiver until the lightning bolt reaches down and blasts him into darkness.

Saturday July 14th, 2012

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: the delivery.

Really good morning at the market, as we sold out of cherries, apricots, broccoli, shelling peas, and raspberries. The only things we brought back home were a few cabbages and some herb plants.

Wish every week could be like that.


The waiting room has been repurposed,
Now it's only for pacing.
There is no sitting down permitted,
Just nervous thought chasing.

Friday July 13th, 2012

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: condition.

There's some impressive lightning going on outside right now, looks like on the other side of the lake. Hoping it stays over there, as I can see it better that way.

Plus, you know, keep that downpour crap out of here.

Back at the market tomorrow morning!


"I thought the ad in the paper said the car was in mint condition," I said, more to myself than the nervous bearded man jingling the keys in his left hand.

"Yeah, exactly," he replied, rather unhelpfully.

"Exactly what?" I asked, though I really should have known better.

"Was in mint condition," he said slowly, "as in, past tense, dude."

Thursday July 12th, 2012

The exercise:

Write about something or someone that is: hiding.

The temperature went over forty again today. It's been a bit of a hard adjustment, seeing as the daytime highs last week are now the overnight lows.

Still not complaining.


The air in the cramped basement tasted like sweat and stale cigarettes, with a delicate hint of fresh urine. Sealed cardboard boxes lined all four walls, their innards filled with photographs, books, memories of carefree childhoods.

Their presence provided no comfort to the men forced to rub elbows, backs, legs against their dusty exteriors. In their minds they merely served to make the space even more claustrophobic.

Above them a lazy summer's afternoon lingered into the dinner hour, slowly transforming into a comfortable summer's evening. For those able to enjoy it, at least.

Below ground stomachs began to grumble. No food appeared to appease them.

No other sounds invaded the room, though surely each living soul within it yearned for the comfort and relief of a secure, snore-filled slumber.

Security, however, was still a mistress in a far away land.

But come nightfall they would attempt once more to travel a little closer to her waiting, welcoming arms.

Wednesday July 11th, 2012

The exercise:

Write something about: going low.

Seeing as I don't like keeping people in the dark, I've decided to explain Monday's goings on.


We had a big harvest day for our local orders and box program on Monday morning - not quite as busy as when the strawberries were going full blast, but still a lot of work. Plus it was really hot out. As in, when I was doing deliveries around 1:45 in the afternoon, it was 41 degrees in the sun.

I rewarded myself with some ice cream when I got home, but otherwise I had nothing to eat between lunch and when we were sitting around waiting for people to pick up their produce around five o'clock.

Which was when I decided to have a beer.

Now, I'm aware that diabetics should not have alcohol on an empty stomach. I guess I forgot, or just didn't realize how devoid of food my belly was. Either way, I took what should have been the right amount of insulin for it and went back to waiting.

A little while later Kat asked me to go to our backyard garden box to pick some lettuce for dinner. I went out and stood there for a while, studying our various plants. And I thought, Nothing looks like lettuce.

I picked what, to my mind, looked the most like lettuce and brought that in. It's at this point that my memory goes blank.

The next thing I remember, I'm sitting at the dinner table, insulin pen in hand, and Kat is trying to get me to eat some food. I am utterly confused (I can't even figure out how my pen is supposed to work) and refuse to cooperate. Later I'll learn that ten or fifteen minutes have passed since I picked (mostly) lettuce. Kat, not aware of the extent of my low, doesn't understand why I won't eat something or test my blood sugar. I'm just trying to figure out where I am and what's going on.

Eventually Kat threatens to call 911 if I don't eat and I still refuse. To be honest, I'm fairly certain I'm dreaming. Everything is very strange and nothing is making sense, so it must be a dream. Right?

Things don't seem real until the ambulance arrives. It's around this point that I realize the extent of my previous confusion and ask Kat what happened.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what doctors like to call a hypoglycemic episode. First one I've experienced in the six and a half years since I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.

In short, my blood glucose went so low that my brain stopped functioning normally. The paramedics tried to get my levels up again but things weren't going as well as they wanted so they ended up taking me, by ambulance (woo, first time in one of those), to the hospital in Oliver.

By the time I got there my levels were fine and I was thinking clearly again. They still kept me for an hour or so before letting me go home. When we got back here just after ten, I really didn't feel like writing anything at all but managed to force out the little poem I ended up posting.

So, that's the deal. Unpleasant, lesson learned, hope to never go through that again. But if I do, at least we'll both have a better idea of what the hell is going on.

Tuesday July 10th, 2012

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: confusion.

Sorry about yesterday's post. I wasn't really in the mood to write and had to force that out. Probably the first time in the more than four years I've been doing this that I've felt obligated to post.

Anyway, it was a bit of a rough night. I'm not sure I want to talk about it, but know that everything turned out fine.


When nothing makes sense,
When normal slips out the door,
Who can be trusted?

*     *     *

She wanders the house
Searching for the puppy dog
Who died years ago

Monday July 9th, 2012

The exercise:

Write something about: the pretender.

Big day. Time for bed.


I'm pretending
Everything's all right,
Keeping the truth
Safely out of sight.

Sunday July 8th, 2012

The exercise:

See what comes out of: the retirement party.

Yard work in the morning, hiding from the sun at the beach in the afternoon, and a BBQ dinner on the deck with our farming friends from Cawston in the evening.

Good Sunday.


He stood near the head of the table, looking uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed as his friends and coworkers came to offer their congratulations and well wishes. Many asked what he planned to do with himself with this new abundance of free time and he swore he didn't know.

Nobody really believed him at the time, but later on they would all see the truth of his words.

That night, however, they showed how little they truly knew him. They proposed tropical vacations (with and without his wife), road trips, endless afternoons on the golf course. A few even suggested he come by once a week for coffee and donuts.

Not a one of them could have predicted the dark and twisted paths he was about to journey upon.

Saturday July 7th, 2012

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: heat.

It is hot, hot, hot, and I am not, not, not complaining. I've waited too long for this.

But, you know, could we maybe turn the furnace down a notch or two?

Today was a productive one, as we got a bunch of things done that we'd been putting off for weeks. I did some rototilling in the garden in the morning to clean up the paths between some of our carrots and beets that were filling up with weeds, and then in the afternoon: stairs for the deck, at long last!

Kat's dad and I got the set on the front side finished, which was conveniently in the shade of one of our walnut trees. The back side will have to wait for a cooler morning or evening.


The sun looks down
From a clear blue sky,
And doesn't blink
As Earth slowly dies

Friday July 6th, 2012

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: the trader.

It pains me to say this, but we'll be skipping tomorrow's farmers market, despite the likelihood that the weather will be the nicest it has been in a month in a half. We're between fruit (cherries are done and apricots are not quite ready to come off the trees) and don't have enough veggies and berries to make the trip worth it. Plus we're really behind on garden work.

On the plus side, this has been the most relaxing and enjoyable Friday night we've had since the markets started. Kat and I went out for dinner at a Greek restaurant we've been meaning to try since we moved here (food was good, service was not) and then went for a walk at the beach.

It's like summer is finally here or something.


The shop was crowded, but not unpleasantly so. A window had been opened and through it a welcome breeze entered to meander through items with mysterious and murky origins.

An old man surveyed the scene from behind a well-worn (though not well-loved) desk, his good hand resting on the cash register while his other attempted to smooth the wiry hairs protruding from his scalp. He waited patiently, as he had for more years than anyone could remember, for a customer to offer a trade that would satisfy his dark cravings.

Thursday July 5th, 2012

The exercise:

Write a little something about: the nest.

Two days in a row of sunshine, blue skies, and no rain. What in the world is going on?


Kat and I were doing some weeding in the backyard this evening when I uncovered a nest filled with six eggs. I brought her over to see it, and we decided they probably belonged to one of the quails that have been hanging out around here lately.

About five minutes later my curiosity got the better of me and I came inside to look it up. As best I could tell we were right, but I couldn't remember exactly what the ones in the yard looked like. I figured my best bet was to go take a picture and then compare them directly.

I grabbed my camera and went outside to get the shot, but as I approached I realized the issue had already been resolved.

Because there was a quail sitting on the eggs.

Wednesday July 4th, 2012

The exercise:

In a suitable follow up to yesterday's prompt, today we write about: waking.

All right, I finally managed to get a picture of one of our restaurant deliveries:

From left to right: two pints of raspberries, two pounds of salad blend, two more pounds of salad blend, three pounds of kale, five pounds of shelling peas, five more pounds of shelling peas, and six more pints of raspberries.

We actually managed to get through an entire day without any rain falling. I honestly don't remember the last time that happened.


He wakes with a start, arms and legs flailing as he struggles to free himself from his tangled sheets. Sitting upright in bed, his breathing ragged, he searches his bedroom for the source of the noise that had interrupted his dreamless sleep.

Finding nothing out of place, he tries to recall what, exactly, had disturbed him. A car alarm? That doesn't feel right, and the street outside his window is silent.

Perhaps the neighbor's cat had found another stray to scrap with and their screeches had pierced his slumber. But no, that doesn't seem right either. It had been calmer than that, almost matter of fact.

A voice?

No, that would be impossible. The doors and windows are locked, he'd made sure of that before turning in. No one else owned a key and the house alarm is top of the line. And yet...

Shaking his head, he climbs out of bed and heads for the bathroom, thinking to relieve himself and splash cold water on his now sweaty face. He flicks on the light and freezes in place, the writing on the mirror triggering his memory. That's it, he thinks. Those were the words that woke me.

Smeared in his late wife's red lipstick, the message is short and to the point.

You're next

Tuesday July 3rd, 2012

The exercise:

Two haiku about: sleep.

Looks like I spoke too soon yesterday, as we got a taste of hail here this morning. It wasn't nearly as bad as the one that hit us last year (something like 70% of the apples got damaged), as initial estimates put it around 20%.

Being at the mercy of this year's remarkable weather is... frustrating, to say the least.


Morning approaches
while I stare at the ceiling;
sleep is far away.

*     *     *

Not enough hours
in the week, must keep going.
Wake facedown in lunch.

Monday July 2nd, 2012

The exercise:

Your theme for today's writing is: empty.

That's how it's feeling around here, now that everybody has returned home. But we'll have more visitors soon, and hopefully some of those who just left will find their way back here sooner than later as well.

Another big harvest for locals this morning, even with the strawberries looking generally unimpressed with Saturday's multiple downpours. But at least we escaped yesterday's hail, which I learned fell on the other side of the lake during the afternoon.

That would have been very ungood for all the fruit in the orchard.


Words echo strangely,
The air is colder;
Days seem to darken
As they grow older.

Something is missing,
Now that you're not near;
Somewhere you're laughing,
Unknown to my ear.

When will you return?
Save me from this place!
All I will ask for:
A smile on your face.

Sunday July 1st, 2012

The exercise:

Let us write about: the display.

Happy Canada Day!


For such a little town, Osoyoos sure puts on a big fireworks display on Canada's birthday.

There was an article in the paper this week claiming it's the second biggest display in the country (behind Ottawa, which is understandably on top since it's the nation's capital). I can't find anything online that actually confirms that, but this is the second year I've watched the celebrations and it's definitely an impressive bit of work.

Kat and I watched them with her brother and sister-in-law from her parent's back deck, which was a pretty sweet deal. I took a bunch of pictures, the one above being my current favorite, but I'll have another look through them tomorrow to see if there are any more worth sharing.

Back to harvesting for local orders tomorrow morning, so I should get to bed. Good night, and welcome to July! May it bring far, far more pleasant growing weather than what June had to offer.