Okay, I know it gets boring, all my joyful burbling – but this is the best morning ever. 10 a.m. on a holiday Monday, utterly tranquil, 20 degrees and sunny already with fresh dew on the garden. The rose by the fence has put out three, three new orangey-pink blooms for the pleasure of my Thanksgiving guests; the hibiscus is blooming red, there’s a new bright red begonia, a bright red mandevilla, the pink geraniums … The birds are at the feeder, the stuffing is made and ready to go into our bird and into the oven, the multitudes will assemble late afternoon. The newspapers are filled with stories about the election surprise for Stephen Harper – how this fine, intelligent country handed him a majority and then turned Liberal or NDP or even Red Tory provincially – what the hell is happening in Alberta? I’ll have what they’re having – and keeping our oily Prime Minister in check. Woo hoo!

Salmon run on the Humber River, Curran Stikuts, and Malcolm Gladwell
The other day I was on my bike coming back from St. John’s Bakery with a backpack full of bread
