Thirty Days of Gratitude: Day Nine

I know how lucky I am to be able to start my mornings like this: yoga when the house is dark and quiet; several cups of coffee in a favourite mug; and a couple of chapters in a book because there is time.
Easing into the day is a luxury not everyone gets so I'm very grateful for this morning ritual. It also includes time with my mother and my husband, and even though we live together and no one  but me works regularly outside the home so we spend a lot of time together, I don't take our morning coffee gathering for granted. Life is always changing, even if it's just our moods and our books, and sometimes those changes can happen swiftly and without warning. On mornings when I get to be calm, balanced, and filled with gratitude, I enjoy them.

Thirty Days of Gratitude: Day Eight

It's the season of the free range chickens!
Even though they have a roomy coop and a large outdoor pen, it's just not the same as having no walls or fences around them. I'm grateful that for a couple of months in spring and fall, our chickens get to stretch their legs, eat grass and bugs, and actually run as fast as they want for as far as they want.
Need a laugh? Come watch a chicken run.

I love the first day of letting the hens and rooster out of their pen to roam around our one acre yard. They are so excited and happy to be free, they hardly know where to go. There's a lot of running around and flapping of wings and squawking as they try to hit all the hot spots: corn patch, cucumber patch, the front deck (alas, no tray feeder on the deck railing this year), and the ditch.

For some reason, our chickens love the ditch that divides our yard from the field. Oh, and they love the field, too. (Who doesn't love the field?!)

Thirty Days of Gratitude: Day Seven

These two. Thankful for these two. Through thick and thin. Hot and cold. Up and down. In sickness and in health.
Till death do us part.
It was my pleasure to prepare a meal of thanksgiving -- gratitude grub -- for my husband and my mother.

Not a great picture because I was rushing -- "the food is getting cold". Yeesh.

Thirty Days of Gratitude: Day Six

On this day, two years ago, I saw my first book for the first time. No better moment than this!
While I remain grateful for this moment when I officially became an author, I am even more grateful that two years later, I still receive emails from women telling me how much they enjoyed my book.
Yesterday, an email arrived from a woman who lives in Ottawa but longs to be back in Nova Scotia. My book seems to stir up a lot of yearnings for the East Coast.

Thank you for buying Field Notes, thank you for liking it, thank you for telling me! Being a writer can be a lonely life full of self-doubt and uncertainty, so authors really do appreciate hearing from people who've read their book.

Thirty Days of Gratitude: Day 5

It wasn't until the three sisters in this book reached Vancouver that I realized - remembered - that I've driven across Canada by myself. That's how I got away from the West Coast and back to the East Coast.
Vancouver to Pugwash.
Me and Maggie, my faithful, wonderful friend. Returning home.
I don't think of that trip much anymore but really, it's pretty something. I'm grateful to have had that experience. All that way, on my own -- Mags and I dubbed it the "Warrior Princess Road Trip". Despite what I was driving away from (an unhappy marriage), and driving towards (uncertainty -- although I wished I'd considered 'freedom'), and not knowing what I was driving towards (my father's dementia diagnosis), I really enjoyed that trip. I enjoyed it with that dog, the best dog I've ever had.

I remember stopping at some pit stop kind of place in Alberta and Maggie's big pumpkin head was hanging out the window as I walked away from the car. A guy who'd come out of a transport truck said to me, "No one's going to bother you with that face in your car."
She was such a good dog. I miss her. Grateful for the memory of that trip with her.

**Written by a Nova Scotia author, the book is a great read, a YA that resonated with this adult, with captivating characters dealing with real problems in believable ways.

Thirty Days of Gratitude: Day 4

I mailed out a book proposal for a collection of essays this week. The book's audience is women, aged 35 to 55. I don't have an "in" with the publisher to whom it's been sent, so I have to hope my writing is engaging enough to interest the Submissions Coordinator.
That's the terrible unknown of a writer's life.
As long as the book is home with me, and I'm working on it, there is an abundance of hope. As soon as it's gone, out of my hands, its future in someone else's hands, there is an abundance of anxiety. Hope and anxiety in their usual awkward, jerky dance -- one leading for awhile, the other taking over, depending on the mood of the music on any given day.

Okay, I stretched that metaphor far enough.

This is the life of a writer. Persistence. Hope. Anxiety. Dread. Anticipation.
Sometimes I wish I'd never started down this rocky, windy path, but most days, I'm truly grateful to have this talent and to be using it every day.

Thirty Days of Gratitude: Day 3

My mother had a week-long visit with her sister, Gail. They didn't do many road trips; they were content to hang out in Mother's room, talking and reading and napping.
Aunt Gail quickly learned that at our exclusive B&B, you make your own breakfast. So really, we're more of a B&C -- bed and coffee.
I'm grateful these two are lifelong friends, and at 77 and 80, are healthy, vibrant and full of laughter. And not overly annoying.