Today I was rummaging through the garage and found a box labelled 'scrap writing'. Inside was a stack of old journals - spiral bound, stapled, decorated and plain. And yeah - a whole bunch of scrap writing. I'm actually going to toss all of these - but not without acknowledging the huge part they play in my writing.
The door clicks shut behind me as I set out across the grass. It is wet, and a bit chilly, but the trees along the avenue are bursting with the flaming colours of autumn and the backdrop of dark grey clouds broken by blades of October sunshine creates a stunning fresco for my daily walk. I am snug in my raincoat and I pick up the pace. Published in the Squamish Reporter, February 2017