Updated: Feb 22, 2022
The city has set up a field of crosses along Memorial Drive, naming Albertans killed in combat.
My mom and I went, and found her uncle’s cross: Howard Blatchford, an RAF flying ace in WWII (the cross incorrectly identifies him with the RCAF). Family legend says he was the youngest pilot to get his license in Canada; he flew in the north before the war began.
Updated: Feb 21, 2022
Saturday was the perfect fall day, sunny, warm, and ideal for raking.
Sunday we had dark skies, rain and then snow, and a multitude of car accidents.
Today, Monday, it’s cold and clear and dazzlingly bright, as sunlight reflects off the snow.
Tuesday the forecast is for warmth again. The snow will melt, the streets will be swamps, and we’ll all enjoy a day or two of spring fever.
I can’t imagine what this is like for visitors to the city, struggling to magically pull the right clothes out of their suddenly much too small suitcases. But for Calgarians, this is perfectly, delightfully normal.
Maureen
Updated: Feb 21, 2022
I have a cold, a rather minor annoyance, except when the fatigue and headache overwhelm. But to write, with no brain? That’s a killer. Writing for kids takes a bright, sparkly brain, and mine is dull and grey.
I work in spurts, planning for my writing class next week, editing – and then snoozing and watching netflix, huddled in blankets. I did find a new story in a funny typo. Later, when I have some spark again, I’ll work on it. So far it’s a great title in search of a story. Writing this took two days – one to type up some sad scrappy notes, and a second session to polish it into something vaguely presentable.
And that is a writer’s life, when afflicted.
Maureen
