Gift to Photographers


There has never been frost like this. Trees turned pure white for days. On this busy university street Рin front of our living room window Р dozens of students stopped to take pictures. Edmonton became a spectacular set to Dr. Zhivago. I almost expected him to drive by in his horse drawn sleigh. Southern wind blew the moment away, we are back to our January reality.



I don’t know if fog can actually affect sound but car traffic and conversations seemed so distant today. The solitude that permeated my garden contrasted to the day’s activities. I milled about in the crowd at the Women’s March. It was filled with loud rousing speeches and protest songs. It’s an odd feeling to get back home to be enveloped by the silence again.

Mid-Winter Music


It’s one thirty in the afternoon and the sun is so low that shadows of elms stretch all the way down the block. Yet, as I stand in the back-yard on this rare warm day, what I see is not shadows but the bright sunshine between them. The background music that accompanies my moment of reverie is the sound of a few drops tapping down eves- troughs.



It’s January 14th and the sun is setting on a very special day: today marks the coldest day of the year in Edmonton. Despite this dire statistic the day was kind to us. I managed to walk to the market and none of my produce froze ¬†– only a few days ago my tomatoes turned to slush in three short blocks. It may be my imagination but people seem more cheerful – we all sense the celebration in the air.

Night Elms


I wonder if everyone in Edmonton has the post holiday blues. After the hubbub of people, gifts, lights and colours of Christmas everything is quiet. It’s time to start thinking about mundane tasks like work, banking and grocery shopping. But before we plunge into all of that, there is a palpable pause. Streets are almost empty. Even the rabbits that party under these elms have mysteriously disappeared.