Marion Agnew

The Ontario Library Service - North announced yesterday that REVERBERATIONS: A DAUGHTER'S MEDITATIONS ON ALZHEIMER'S is shortlisted for their Louise de Kiriline Lawrence Award for Nonfiction. Ontario libraries have not received much support (neither rah rah NOR financial) in the past eighteen months, and are again scrambling to meet community needs during this pandemic. I'm so grateful that OLS-N is giving out this award this year, and that they've chosen to recognize REVERBERATIONS in this way. As always, I'm grateful to the team at Signature Editions for their support.  Read books, y'all. If you can, leave reviews or comments in public places. And check out books from your library, whether that means investigating online options or scheduling a curbside pickup. Your future self will be grateful to you!

Good morning! Look at this:  Pretty, huh. Yesterday, I participated (online) in a workshop from the North American Association for Environmental Education , entitled "Nature as Inspiration and Transformation: An Intro to Nature Poetry." I got to spend an hour with Aimee Nezhukamatathil, author of World of Wonders , to be published by Milkweed (one of my favourite publishers) in August. Here's more: Interesting, though possibly less "traditionally pretty." The workshop, though: it was wonderful! Especially because I'm generally intimidated by poetry, both reading it and writing it. And I have an appreciation of others' scientific expertise, which I emphatically do NOT have. And yesterday, I was reminded that all writing starts somewhere, and a sense of wonder--both in the sense of "awe" and in the sense of "curiosity"--is a great starting point. Also: the power of starting small. Of keeping journals wher...

So. Remember when I fell on the ice? And my wrists weren't hurt badly and were getting better ? Those were the days. During the ensuring eight or so weeks, my wrists have actually improved. I have gradually returned to reading, then editing and revising, a bit. Even some writing. I have also attended a LOT (a lot) of Zoom meetings. And here's what I saw during those meetings. The photo above shows the view through the upstairs window where we set up the laptop with the functioning camera.  Above: a closer shot to better show that thing out there. Yep. It's hanging at the end of rope, twisting in the breeze coming off Lake Superior (from left to right), and knocking gently against the exterior chimney (to the right).  And yep, a gust from the right/wrong direction could send it right into the window glass! Which probably would have been neither a hassle nor at all expensive to replace!  Throughout those past eight/nine/ten months years? week...

Early May is always a bit of a sensitive time around here. My mother's birthday was May 3 (she would have been 103 this year), and her death anniversary falls near the midnight separating May 7 from 8. And Mother's Day, of course, is always the second Sunday of May. This year is especially poignant. It's the 20th anniversary of her death. And the first year my book about her--about her, and me, and our family, and all of us--is out. Also, this year I didn't get to see my family-- that was one of my ghost events . Most days, I wouldn't trade any element of the way my life has gone. After all, I've landed here, in a life that was better than I ever dreamed. Other days, I find myself wanting to tell my mother the nice thing someone said about her and the book. So I take a walk. I see this. And this. The poignancy becomes mixed with gratitude, and with spring. And all is well.