Although I consider myself primarily a fantasy book writer, this year hasn't seen much in the way of novel writing for me.  Instead, I had poetry on the mind.  So I went with that rather than trying to force what obviously didn't want to emerge on the page.  Which has led to the release of my second book of poetry, Upon Life's Journey (published October 15, 2024).

I had a lot of fun with this one, the poems written from shortly after the release of Dancing Words in April 2022 to mid-September 2024; about a year and a half.  Separated into sections, I chose 5 'themes' to encompass my work: Origins & Space; Nature & Camping; Structured Poems; Life & Social Commentary; and Thought, Reality, & Stream of Consciousness.

Some of the poems are short (on our latest camping trip at the beginning of September of 2024, one of our members mistook the length of haikus, and inadvertently created what we called the 'Kevku', with a structure of 1 syllable, 3 syllables, 1 syllable [which I then also refined to make the 1 syllable words homophones], because it amused us), and some are multi-pages.  Three of the longer poems originated for a fun contest called 'Literary Taxidermy', where writers are given the opening and closing lines of different literary works that they incorporate into the start and end of their own piece without changing the word order--yet everything in between is the author's voice.  For the purposes of publication, I did later alter the wording of the intro and finale (after the contest had concluded) to avoid any plagiarism issues, so if you ever worry that I had something traumatic occur in my youth when reading The Ship in the Sea of Life, fear not; that opening and end is inspired by 'Manuscript Found in a Bottle' by Edgar Allan Poe.
[Hope for a Shattered Future was likewise taxidermized from the Langston Hughes poem 'As I Grew Older', as was Seek the Light.]

The Prime 53 poems in the structured section also originated from a poetry contest, spawning 12 poems over two contest periods.  They have a specific rhyming structure and syllable count (inspired by prime numbers), a form created in 2019 by the editor of Press 53 poetry (check out www.press53.com/prime-53-poem-summer-challenge if you want any details on those).  Everything else simply popped into my brain in one form or another along the way (a couple from listening to music or from just setting pen to paper to bring about some interesting stream of consciousness pieces).

I think the most important thing to remember when reading poetry (or at least, when reading my poetry) is that a poem means what you determine it means.  I might have had some insights I wanted like to share, or some emotion or thought I hoped to bring to light, and I could certainly explain what a given topic meant to me (although there are some, especially some true stream of consciousness efforts, that simply wanted to exist, and I might struggle with their meaning too).  But what you get out of a poem is what you get out of a poem; whatever thoughts, emotions, questions arise when you read my words, that's the point of the poem to you in that given moment.  You are never wrong in whatever thought or emotion a poem inspires in you, even if it doesn't match what someone else feels or understands in their own interpretation.  Yes, I can tell you what I meant, but the power of poetry, in my opinion, is in discovering how you interact with the words.

Can a poem ever gain sentience, or does it remain but "words birthed on a page, a structure that can only find life through the mind of another?" (from Sentience)

​Which brings us to May, and our cycling trip through France with our friends Tracy and Kevin.  We spent a couple of days in Paris (a fascinating city, even though some of the attractions were somewhat marred by the preparations for the Olympics--nothing like seeing the Eifel tower hedged by metal stadium seating and fences blocking off the park access) before heading out to the Loire Valley.

Starting in Nantes, we cycled for seven days, ending up in Orleans.  The Loire Valley, south and west of Paris, has a bike route that follows the river, a mostly flat stretch of well-maintained trails.  The problem we encountered, being early May and after a lot of rain, was flooding.  At times, we had to detour from the trail (sometimes, the detours were even marked), and this added a bit of adventure (and distance) to our tour.  Ever had to portage while on a bicycling trip?  It's quite an experience!  Especially if you have an electric assist bike, which I did.  While it made going up some of the hills a breeze (even assisting with carrying extra luggage up a surprisingly hilly Amboise, seeing as I alone chose the eBike), carting a heavier bike up some hills and through some undergrowth not meant for traversing was a bit of a slog.  Lucky for me, the guys let me carry the paniers instead of the bike.

On April 14, 2024, Victoria Park Pavilion in Kitchener hosted (well, Eerie River Publishing hosted and organised; the Pavilion merely accommodated) a Book Fair and Bookish Market.  Around 35 local (KW, Cambridge, Hamilton, London, etc.) authors and crafters gathered together to showcase their art, and I had the privilege of being one of them.

I have now participated in 4 book fairs, with a good number of others lined up in the coming months.  So far, this has proved the most successful one for me.  It also felt like the best attended, and part of that might have had to do with the venue.  The Pavilion is situated in Victoria Park, which has a lot of space for walking, biking, picnicking, or playing.  Add to that a glorious sunny and warm day (especially for mid-April in Ontario), and you have a perfect combination for visitors.  A playground within sight of the Pavilion had a constant crowd of happy children, the paths were well travelled, the open spaces overlooking the water well utilised.  This undoubtedly brought in additional folks to those who already knew about the Book Fair.  And that, of course, generated additional interest and discoveries to our event, beyond what word-of-mouth and advertising induced.

It's wonderful to see so much interest in the written word and in a desire to support local talent--of which we have plenty!  I met some first-time vendors (one of whom even sold out her stock and took to arranging future deliveries of her work) and reacquainted myself with authors I met at previous fairs, and hope to see again soon.  We have a great community of artists who support each other, whether by sharing our experiences--the challenges and rewards of writing, publishing, and selling (interacting with strangers isn't always easy for some of us introverts)--providing encouragement and welcome, or buying another artist's work.  It's gratifying to be part of a group who seek to lift one another up rather than put anyone down.

For those who didn't do as well at this particular event, keep trying; keep holding on to your dream; keep sharing your hard work.  The next event might lighten you soul.  We all have good and bad days, and each new effort will bring something to inspire, even if it's only a bright smile, or a man who tries to make everyone laugh.  We're all here for you, and we're grateful for your support!

At the beginning of September, Mike and I once again went backcountry canoe camping with our friends Tracy and Kevin for 5 nights.  This year's theme: pack light.  We wanted to do a loop instead of an out-and-back like we've done in previous years, and our chosen route meant several portages, the longest about 3 km, and a different campsite every night.  As the longest portage we'd ever done previously measured under 500m, this at first seemed, perhaps, a little daunting.  So we planned ahead.

First, knowing we shouldn't pack the entire kitchen (only one small whisk and far less cutlery), obtaining light-weight equipment (tents, sleeping bags, sleeping pads, chairs, stove with fuel, etc.), and testing just how much weight we could each carry.  Next, figuring out what food to take (mostly freeze-dried packs), and making sure we ate the heavier food in the two days before the big portage.  Luckily, we started planning and prepping several months in advance, so we didn't have a huge rush the week before.  Perhaps we're starting to get the hang of this...

We started our trip by heading up toward Round Lake, stopping for a nice picnic lunch near Bracebridge along the way.  It has become our custom (this being our 3rd annual camping trip together) to stay at a Voyager Quest cabin the night before, enjoying a lovely supper prepared by the friendly staff.  This year, we got our canoes early and paddled them to the cabin in what turned out to be the windiest evening of paddling.  But, this enabled an early start the following morning, and that was the plan.

The day dawned bright and calm.  Early starts before the wind picked up would become key to pleasant paddling and maximizing our enjoyment of each campsite.  We made it across Round Lake to the Algonquin entrance, then through the river, through West and East Tea Lake, and finally into Mangotasi, a journey of 18 km, happily downwind.

Perhaps I should mention now, Mike started this journey with a sore back, yet kept a cheerful disposition, even knowing he'd have to carry a canoe over some potentially rough terrain after sleeping on the ground (well, on a thermorest on the ground).  He did not complain.  He did, however, come up with a philosophy that we all soon adopted: portaging is better if you think of it as a hike, carrying some stuff.

Our first full day off-grid took us a short distance to Biggar Lake, only about 6 km of paddling, including 3 small portages no longer than 500m.  Mike repeated them so as not to carry as much (once with canoe, then again with pack), and to stretch out his back (he had discovered in the weeks leading up to the trip that a good morning walk helped sort out the pain somewhat), while the rest of us tested out single-trips with our pack-light packs.  We had absolutely still waters and encountered few other paddlers.

We shared our site on Biggar with a variety of fun frogs and birds, enjoyed some swimming, and generally relaxed.

And then we headed out on another calm morning through Kawa and Upper Kawa Lakes (beautiful, as is most of Algonquin) toward Three Mile Lake, about 11.5 km total paddling and four portages totaling about 3 km.  Along the way, we saw cormorants, a bald eagle, and some frogs.

​Three Mile has some unfortunate history to it, including an island where, during a storm, a camper died after lightning struck a tree and fell on the poor sod.  Some people report uneasy feelings around that island.  Mike dubbed it 'Murder Island', and we decided to steer clear of it, just in case.  We did, however, encounter another spot that left us a little nervous.

As we approached a campsite, both Mike and I saw a man reading in a chair by the water's edge, its clear occupation prompting us not to look too close at it as a potential stopping point for the night.  However, a moment later, the man disappeared.  This caused some confusion, and Mike decided to investigate.  We pulled our canoe close; Mike got out and took a look around, finding no one and no equipment, and no indication that anyone had just vacated the area.  Tracy and Kevin, who pulled up nearby, were confused by our bewilderment, for they hadn't seen anyone, and wanted to know if we were stopping for the night.  Once we determined that, despite the decent quality of the camp, we really didn't want to share it with a reclusive ghost, we continued on our way, eventually reaching the 3 km portage, which had a campsite right beside it, though well sheltered.  We stayed there instead.  No Murder Island, no Ghost Island.  Probably a good choice.

An early morning start the following day, where Mike and Kevin took the canoes on ahead over the 3 km portage while Tracy and I packed up camp.  We enjoyed some tea and reading by the lake as we awaited the guys' return, then had breakfast and set off together for a nice hike while carrying things :)

Now we had reached Manitou Lake with warm, sunny weather.  We found the site we had so enjoyed last year unoccupied, so quickly made it our home for the rest of the day.  This involved Mike setting up our tarp, as our experience of Manitou usually included rain.  Manitou did not disappoint (as Mike said).  Though we managed some wonderful swimming beneath a cheerful sun in the early afternoon, late afternoon and evening brought high winds and plenty of rain with thunder and lightning.  Although the first burst of rain tapered off with a rainbow, we had multiple other drenchings.  We were very glad not to be the canoeists caught in that weather!  Instead, we kept cozy and dry beneath Mike's masterwork of tarping, blazing fire lighting up the darkness of the evening.  Happily, it stopped raining before we had to venture out to our tents (or the thunderbox) for the night.

The morning dawned misty and humid with a bit of a headwind.  We set off toward North Tea Lake, taking the east portage (a bit longer portage), which has a pretty waterfall where we paused for photos and a snack.  We had intended to use the same site as last year--a nice spot on an island--but it had poor options for shelter and tarp hanging, and we didn't trust the weather.  So we pushed ahead against the wind, foregoing this fair-weather site, followed a loon, and found a much better location across the lake with lots of space, not too far from the exit portage.  We spent a lovely, quiet, lazy afternoon, watching as the early weekend crowd started to arrive.

​The evening turned chilly, and we all layered up, but no one froze.  Light rain mixed with sun took us back through the river to Round Lake, but little wind hampered us, making for a pleasant paddle on our last day.

Until we got back to the vehicle, all packed up and ready to go.  Whereupon, we discovered that someone had taken down an old sign, but left the remnant spike in the ground, right about tire level, and right next to a new sign.  We had parked beside this new sign, as the only spot left when we arrived on the Saturday of a long weekend.  Sadly, the spike and the tire didn't get along well, especially not right after Kevin called to Mike: "Just gun it!"

But a temp tire, and the good folks at Kal Tire in Bracebridge saved the day, and we made it home all in one (mostly) piece.  And Mike's back?  Happily transformed by days of paddling, hiking with a canoe, and sleeping on the ground.  (It took about two days being home, back to the grind, for that to revert :( )

Another successful book fair, and by successful, I mostly mean "I sold some books to some people I have never met before."  Also met some great new authors (new to me, at any rate).  I may or may not have come out slightly ahead after buying a couple of books from fellow vendors.

On Sunday April 23, I attended the Stratford Book Fair at the Stratford Country Club, which is a very nice venue (pleasant to sit somewhere that includes huge windows and lots of light--had a great view of the rain, then snow, that chilled the day in the last hour or so of the Fair, which greatly reduced any potential customers).  Many great vendors--mostly other authors or publishers, but also some jewelry and candles, bookmarks, stones, and other artistic tidbits that go well with reading.  Quite a few fantasy, science-fiction, thriller/dark fiction, historical fiction selections, as well as some children and young adult titles.  A nice cross-section of fiction books with a myriad of protagonists available--backgrounds including the disabled, the marginalized, the LGBTQ community, strong leads of the female or male persuasion; pretty much any hero/heroine (or anit-hero/heroine) you might enjoy, so long as they're fictional.  A few people more interested in non-fiction and biographies might have found that less-than-satisfying, though I greatly appreciate the woman who bought my poetry book anyway :)

My best friend came to assist me, and she did a fantastic job, especially when I started to feel crappy.  Somehow, I made it through the day anyway and came home a few books lighter.

Looking ahead to future author events, I keep finding things on days that I've already booked something, which is a little frustrating, but that's life.  Hopefully I'll find another venue I can actually attend in the coming months!  In the meantime, I really have to get back on the horse and actually write something new.  Wish me luck!

As the weather turns cold and the dark nights stretch long, Mike and I often take some time to go somewhere warmer than winter in Southern Ontario.  We did so again this year, this time travelling with Jason, a friend whom Mike has vacationed with in previous years (someone he's known since kindergarten), who also enjoys getting out of the chill overcast of the beginning of the year.  This year, we chose Portugal for a 10-day get-away; although the first day doesn't count as it involved an overnight flight, and the last day doesn't count because the plane left at 10:30 in the morning.  Still, we had 9 nights in a climate that didn't have any snow.

Before I describe some of the wonderful sights we encountered, I need to paint a brief picture of the two months leading up to our trip, events that led to a physically and emotionally exhausted husband, and a bit of a hectic start.  Let's go back to just before Christmas...

We have learned in the Peasgood family not to make firm plans ahead of time, as something inevitably happens to mess up said plans (e.g. weather, illness).  So we didn't have anything firmly in place in regards to Christmas.  We knew we would see my family on Christmas Day, then we'd see who was around and healthy for Boxing Day and the following week, when Mike & I might head up to the cottage (possibly with other family members, possibly alone).  And then we learned that Mike's mom needed to go into palliative care.  She has suffered with dementia for several years, but has remained in good physical health, and always kept a positive attitude, even when she could no longer really communicate.  So we made arrangements to go to Mike's brother's place, closer to Bobcaygeon where Mom lives, ahead of a potentially massive storm, 'just in case'.  We packed up the car the day after we received the news (Dec. 22)--clothes, food, skis, and presents--and just as we made to leave, Mike's sister called to let us know that Mom had passed away.  This made the drive up north (we still wanted to beat the storm) a somewhat subdued affair, but it also meant we got to spend more time with the family, albeit under less-than-ideal circumstances.

Jump ahead to mid-January.  Another call from Mike's sister, another tragic loss in the family, this time her son, our nephew, and another extended stay with Mike's brother so that we were all closer to offer what support we could in the following several days of making arrangements and finding answers.  That's another story that I won't share here, except to say that it was not an easy time.

Yet our planned trip loomed closer, and Mike had less time than hoped to get ready.  Thankfully, he works with some very special people who helped keep his company on track, although he did have a few calls with various entities during both these events that he had to deal with--luckily, done remotely.  But now, he's starting to scramble, and things falling off the rails (or going sideways, as his sister says) doesn't help with stress or piece of mind.  Still, we had a few days to gather our wits and calm our nerves.  So of course, that's when the sump pump decided to malfunction overnight and flood our basement.  Only enough water to creep under the engineered hardwood floor, and only one room, but enough of a problem to involve the insurance company and emergency clean up.  Three days before we're supposed to leave.

Gah!

We managed to make it to the airport with time to spare, but not with a relaxed mien.  I can sleep on an airplane; Mike, not quite as much.  Nothing like starting a vacation high on stress, on an overnight 7+ hour flight, and landing before 7 in the morning, knowing we can't check in until 3.  Nevertheless, we managed to pack quite a lot into that first day.

So, on to happier details of Portugal.

Day 1:
​Arrive at Lisbon, take the metro to the train station, board an early train out to Sintra (about 40 minutes north of Lisbon) in the dark, trusting we're reading our Portuguese correctly.  Arrive in a lovely little touristy town and find our accommodations--we couldn't check in to yet, but we could stow our luggage, so we at least didn't have to lug our backpacks around all day.

​We had some famous pastries (pastel de nata) and tea/coffee to fortify us, then set out on a hike up to the Moorish castle.  You can take a bus or a tuk tuk up to the castle, but we chose to walk.  It's only about an hour (and many hills), but it also involved a detour that we more or less managed to follow.  After a bit of backtracking, we made it up to the castle.  I may have mentioned somewhere before: I like ruins.  I like crawling around in ruins.  We found ourselves an awesome ruin.  And despite aching legs from much unaccustomed climbing to reach the castle, I climbed pretty much every set of stairs I could find in these ruins.  (I also climbed a rock on the way to the ruins and scrapped my hand, but it was only a little blood)  The temperature sat in the mid-teens, the sun shone, we had a perfect (if slightly sleepy) start to our trip.  And we followed that with a long hike back to town, some food, and then some sleep.

Day 2:
​Walked to Pena Palace via a slightly shorter route than the previous day.  Saw the inside of Pena, then took in the views from the terrace above.  The Palace began life as a monastery, suffered storm and earthquake damage a few centuries later, was abandoned for a time, then acquired in the 18th century by King consort Ferdinand II (who really liked creating romantic niches all over the place) and transformed into a summer residence for the royal family, rebuilt in a Romantic style that incorporated Medieval and Islamic elements.  Eventually, the royals got booted in a revolution, and the State classified it as a national monument, turning it into a museum for tourists like us to traipse through.  UNESCO claimed it as a World Heritage Site in 1995.  Mostly, it's known as the colourful palace on the hill.  It also has an amazing spread of gardens, which were neat to wander through, though lacked the full colour and splendor the summer months would bring.  Then we surrendered and took a bus back down the hill.  On narrow, winding roads as frightening speeds.  Branches may have tickled the roof, but I'm pretty sure the walls didn't quite scrape the paint on the sides of the bus; barely.
​

After a bite of food, we next hiked off to another World Heritage Site called Quinta da Regaleira, thankfully only a few minutes up the road from our accommodations.  Regaleira is a merchant family name, and they sold the land to an eccentric guy named Carvahlo Monteiro in 1892, who then built a crazy assortment of buildings and paths that may or may not have made sense to anyone besides him.  This place has a small palace, a chapel, a huge amount of park space, grottos, lakelets, fountains, tunnels, and an initiation well (not for water, but for ceremonial purposes).  Mike nick-named this the Pit of Despair when we couldn't remember its real name.
​
We almost missed the palace part, as we spent a lot of time roaming the grounds, and we probably still missed stuff.  A weird but stunning location, and lots of fun to explore.

Day 3:
Well, we'd already seen all we wanted of Sintra.  By this time, Mike was really feeling tired, both from walking 20 000+ steps in each of the last two days, and from general exhaustion catching up to him.  So he took a bit of a break while Jason and I wandered through some gardens that would no doubt look spectacular in the summer.  We found some cork trees (I didn't even know cork came from the bark of such large trees), and stumbled across part of the path we had taken the first day to reach the Moorish Castle, but the sun had also taken a break on this day, and we didn't see anything I felt like taking pictures of.  Still, some nice walking, and Mike joined us later for more general walking, but it turns out that 2 days is plenty to take in the sites of Sintra, at least for us.  So back to our rooms to plan for the next day, when we would head out to our second trio of accommodations on the Algarve coast.  With a looming train strike in the offing.  What could go wrong?

Day 4:
Train back to Lisbon ran as scheduled, and we found ourselves at the train hub on the first day of a train strike.  "Train's still coming," the ticket lady informed us, but she couldn't sell us tickets, as her computer had been locked out, making sales impossible.  Website informed us 'no train.'  We chose to listen to the ticket lady instead, and headed up to the appropriate platform, fingers crossed.  We encountered another passenger in a similar fix.  He needed to get to the coast for work, and did so on a frequent basis, so he figured we had a good chance of buying tickets from the porter.  Assuming the train arrived.  No announcements said it would, and no digital signs, which tracked other local trains, mentioned the high-speed one we wanted.  But before we had to start exploring bus options, the train did, indeed arrive.  We found the porter, and our new friend, who spoke Portuguese like a pro (his English was also excellent, though neither is his first language), conferred with the porter, who then let us on, trusting we'd pay the correct fair once we were underway and he came by to check for tickets.  Presumably some people got their tickets the night before, or at least some time well in advance (our new friend couldn't get any when he tried), but the train was far from packed.  Lucky us, as usually it's assigned seating, and we just sat wherever.  Anyway, we paid the man and weren't kicked off a train going in excess of 200 kph.  Yay!

We arrived in Albufeira and got our rental car.  I highly recommend ready2drive if you want to rent a car in the Algarve.  Bruno is our hero (more about him when we return the vehicle).  He met us at the station with our car, sat down with us at a cafe to do the paperwork, and gave us some helpful tips.  Then we set off toward Lagos and the Ponta da Piedade as a nearby destination before our resort was ready to receive us.  Lovely views under a still-sunny sky, though clouds had started to roll in.

We got to our resort with a very tired, and by now slightly sniffly Mike.  Enjoyed the sunset, then had a simple meal in our kitchen and headed off to bed.
​
Day 5:
​Mike and I took a walk down to the beach in the morning, and that's about all he was up for.  So he went back to bed, and Jason and I took a longer walk along the coast.

A 6 km trail (7 Hanging Valleys Trail) starts a few kilometres from our resort.  We walked along the coast to the trail head about 3 km away, partly in the rain.  Then we headed back to town on the roads, with the intention of doing the 7 Hanging Valleys Trail the following day, hopefully when Mike felt better.

​Mike did not, in fact feel better when we returned, so we found a pharmacy and got him some cold and flu medication, stopped for a spot of lunch, then returned to our invalid.  In the evening, Jason headed out for a walk to see the sunset of Carvoeiro from the boardwalk near the beach, and I headed back to the pharmacy to see if they had any Covid test kits, just in case.  And low and behold, our dear Mike, who started the trip emotionally drained, physically exhausted, and mixing with many people on various public transits without a mask, had indeed contracted the nasty virus.  Well, crap.  Not the way he wanted to spend any part of the trip.

I slept the following nights on the couch, and wore my mask (which I had worn on public transit, and somehow managed to avoid any subsequent contagions) while taking care of Mike.

.​Day 6:
Jason went to hike the 7 Hanging Valleys Trail, while I got some food and liquids into Mike.  We visited a doctor in case Mike needed a note for insurance if we had to make alternate travel arrangements due to Covid.  Strangely, when the doctor administered the test, he got inconclusive results.  Twice.  Still, he figured we hadn't lied about a positive test, so issued a note just in case, though he told us he saw no reason that Mike couldn't travel.  Ww walked back to the resort, and that about used up Mike's energy for the day.  He went back to bed and I read on the balcony as the sun made a reappearance.  Wandered around town later with Jason, ate some food, checked in with the patient.  Not as exciting a day as originally planned, but the couch was surprisingly comfortable.

Day 7:
Happily, Mike felt well enough that we could all check out of the resort and drive back to Albufeira in anticipation of catching the train back to Lisbon.  Website said 'yup, all is well.'  Ticket man at the train station informed us that the trains are not, in fact, running at all that day.  Well, crap.  Some hasty phone searches led us to a bus schedule, with a bus scheduled to leave about 20 minutes later.  From another location.  And here we sat with a rented car to be returned.  So we called up Bruno, our hero of the rental car, and asked if we could meet him at the bus station instead of the train station.  He agreed, then called us back to ask which bus we were taking, as there were two different places to catch buses.  He then gave us directions to a tourist info spot where he would wait for us and where we could leave the car, while he then drove us to the bus terminal, which had no easy parking.  Truly above and beyond, and far more than any other car rental company we've ever dealt with.  Five stars for Bruno, who even managed to be chipper and jovial the whole time.

Got to the bus stop, ordered tickets online, got on a bus (Mike suitably masked through this whole endeavour), and made it to Lisbon only about 1/2 hour later than the train would have taken.  We found a metro to the station nearest our 3rd and final accommodation, then walked the rest of the way, arriving sometime around 6:30.  Needless to say, that pretty much used up all of Mike's energy for the day.  He went to bed, while Jason and I went to find some supper.  Then I came home, and Jason went back out to check out Lisbon's night life.

Day 8:
We started the day at the famous Pastéis de Belém to try out some more custard tarts, and we got there early enough that we didn't face a huge line, although we did end up munching our pastries with tea and coffee and on the patio.  I sat nearest the heater, as it wasn't much past 10 degrees yet.  Then we headed out to see Jeronimos Monastery.

​Being Sunday, the cathedral part had mass, so we didn't see the interior of that, and being a huge tourist attraction, we didn't stand in line to see the inside of the monastery itself either.  But just seeing the outside is worth the trip.

We had some lunch, then Mike went back 'home' for a rest, while Jason and I went exploring Lisbon.  We saw Rossio Square with its statues and tile work made to imitate the ocean (an effective optical illusion that neither of us could look at long without feeling nauseated.  Honestly, we had to walk looking up just so we didn't trip on our own feet and vomit).  We then made our way toward the Baixa District (lots of shops and restaurants along a ginormous pedestrian right of way) and to the Rua Augusta Arch.  The walk to and from this area had lots of random statues, arches, and fascinating architecture to see, a sort of hodge podge that defines Lisbon. 

Day 9:
Mike felt well enough to join us for a bigger adventure today, so we went to explore St. George's Castle (Castelo de S. Jorge)--once we figured out which bus (or tram) we wanted, and where to catch it.  A bit far to walk, though Jason was game.  Mike and I, not so much.  So we used transit (still masked, of course).  We arrived before opening, so had an opportunity to explore the outer area first.  Narrow roads, but a functional little township, complete with a school and laundry hung out to dry.  A fascinating mix of older and modern, rural vs urban, and all within Lisbon.

The castle itself has archeological finds from the 8th century BC with fortifications from the 1st century BC.  Through a long and varied history, it passed through several hands (Celts, Greeks, Carthage, Romans, Visigoths, Moors, Portuguese) and underwent many renovations.  It's hard to tell just how old each section is, and even now, it's undergoing both restoration and archeological digs.  It's mostly walls and stairs, some benches, cannons, dry water features, and incredible vistas.  And peacocks.  Don't ask me why.  Maybe they're sacred guardians of the place, or just a tourist attraction.  They also climb trees.

After this, we took Mike to see Rossio Square; he didn't have any trouble with the waves, but then, he simply examined them, then explained why they were so effective (it has to do with the differing thickness of each wave).  We also went back to the Rua Augusta Arch and wandered Lisbon some more, seeing various squares and gardens and cobbled streets.  Then we headed back 'home' for a bit of a rest before supper.  Jason went ahead of us to the LX Factory, where you can find a mix of artisans and restaurants.  Mike and I grabbed an Uber and met him there for supper (I so do not want to ever drive in Lisbon, but the Uber drivers seem to know what they're doing).

Day 10:
Called an Uber and made our way to the airport for a 10:40 am flight back to Toronto.  The flight was only a little late, yet managed to arrive on time after 8 1/2 hours in the air.  We all made it back home, went to bed early, and continue with life.  Mike only tested mildly positive the next morning.  So much for inconclusive tests!

​Did we like Portugal?  For the most part, yes.  Did it have its challenges?  Definitely.  Would we go back?  We'd like to see more of the Algarve, so probably.  Will Mike ever want to travel again, given that something often goes wrong?  I hope so.  After all, I didn't even have to leave him at a hospital and fly home alone this time!  I call that a win.

This past weekend (Nov. 19, 2022), I participated in my first ever book fair.  This also happened to be the first (possibly annual) Holiday Book Fair put on in the Waterloo Region and held at theMUSEUM in Kitchener.  So, a lot of new things for various parties.

With 35 vendors from across Southwestern Ontario (local talent being a definite highlight for many attendees) bringing their books, bookmarks, candles, crafts, jewelry, artwork, games, and educational materials to the affair, people were in for a treat to tempt the imagination.  Children's books, YA, and adult fiction all made an appearance, from fantasy and adventure to romance and horror, and even some poetry.  You could find independent authors and small publishing houses side-by-side, myself among them (though, of course, I also took a stroll through the venue prior to opening to express my support and enjoy the fantastic array of talent available).

It took place on the same day as the Santa Claus Parade, presumably with the intention that this might help attract greater crowds, and entrance to most of the museum exhibits was free.  I don't know how much attention such affairs usually generate, but I'd have to call the attendance 'moderate' (and definitely a family-friendly affair).  A friend of mine, with her table next to me, intimated that the crowd did not meet some of her experiences at other such events.  But people did show up, many expressing enthusiasm for the written word, and I sold some books.  So I'd call it a success, even if only a minor one.  After all, more than 20 copies of my books now rest in hands that they didn't before.  A good step in finding greater exposure for my work.

And now that I've participated in one, the next will hold less anxiety for me.  I am not, by nature, a very sociable person, and throngs of strangers terrify me (nor do I know how to promote myself well, as that involves actually speaking with others).  So honestly, I rather appreciated not being thrust among throngs of people jostling for space.  A good first-time experience for me.  I just hope my fellow vendors enjoyed some success also.

As the summer of 2022 draws to its inevitable conclusion, many of us look back to the highlights of the warm weather of the Northern Hemisphere as we move closer to the cooling temperatures of encroaching autumn.  Rarely a fan of the elementary school teacher's favourite challenge upon returning to class: "what did I do on my summer vacation," when I didn't always do much that I thought others would find terribly exciting (or wanted to share for fear of sounding inane), nevertheless, I'm going to share a couple of my recent experiences of this past season (apart from the many weekends at the cottage dismantling and then rebuilding a large section of the deck).

First, a very enjoyable week at the beginning of August totally disconnected and away from the world in the backcountry of Algonquin Park with Mike and a lovely couple we've been friends with for several years.  We started this tradition of canoe camping with Tracy and Kevin last year when planning our previous annual vacation of a bike trip somewhere went on hiatus due to Covid restrictions.  Like last year, we started our journey at Voyager Quest (an overnight cabin with supper and breakfast included) at Algonquin Access Point 1 (Kawawaymog, or Round, Lake), and we spent 5 nights in the wilderness interior at 4 different campsites.  We had planned on only 3 sites (1st night at North Tea Lake near Mangotasi River, next 3 nights in Biggar Lake, and final night back in North Tea closer to the river back to Kawawaymog).  However, from our 2nd somewhat shaded campsite, we kept gazing across the lake at a sunny spit of land that we eventually explored, only to discover it was an unoccupied campsite.  So we hastily packed up our previous site and transferred ourselves for the final night on Biggar, wondering why we hadn't just stopped at this sunny site in the first place.

Unlike last year, we had no rain this time around, and while the nights had a bit of a chill (lesson learned: bring warmer sleeping bags even if the preceding weeks had temps in the 30s...), the weather was fantastic.  Despite an incident where we narrowly avoided burning down the forest and searing off Mike's hand, and a time when we had to call upon 'Nurse Tracy' to staunch some blood and bandage up a gash received while Mike and Kevin went foraging for wood when we found ourselves on an island well cleared of deadfall, we had a tremendous time away from the cares of the world.  I even jotted down a poem about one beautiful sunrise, and another about portaging and how sometimes it's better if you can't see too far ahead.

After returning home from this relaxing break, Mike and I turned our minds to a place that's been on our list for a while now, and we started in earnest to plan a trip to Iceland.  We had already picked the dates, but now had to confirm where to stay and what to see.  This trip would see our 26th Wedding Anniversary (the 25th a more subdued affair during a pandemic that involved some food poisoning, so we hoped this one would work out better), and would last 12 days.

The first three days were rainy and windy and included a flat tire far from civilization (on the morning of our Anniversary no less, so it looked a little dicey for a bit), but the fourth day dawned bright and warm and we could finally see and enjoy the true splendour of a magnificent country.  While we had stopped to see some waterfalls and do some hiking in the first three days (if you're into hiking, I highly recommend getting out to Landmannalaugar and exploring some of their many trails despite the bumpy F-road to get there and the wind trying to push you off a mountain), many of these were the well-known 'tourist traps'.  If you've seen pictures of Iceland, you'd likely recognise what we glanced at at the beginning of our journey around ring road, complete with bus loads of wandering and oblivious tourists, all wondering what we're doing out in such miserable weather, but reluctant to miss what everyone 'must see'.  Although I almost admire the bride making the most of things in spite of the pouring rain and chilly wind on her bare arms as she tried to get that memorable photo in front of a waterfall.

While the known locations do have their beauty, we found that tracking down some of the 'hidden gems' is a very worthwhile effort.  A useful tool to do so is alltrails.  Mike would navigate while I drove, and he'd look for promising suggestions along the way from previous travelers/hikers who also liked to find where the bus tours didn't go.  In such a way, we discovered places such as Holmanes, the Hallormsstadur forest trails, Rjukandafoss, Dalvik, Reykjafoss, Selvallafoss, and the challenge of Akrafjall.

​If Iceland is on your list of must-see places, it's well worth your time.  I know some people who would spend most of that time in Reykjavik or viewing the wonders of the Golden Circle (if you only have a few days, this isn't a bad idea).  However, if you enjoy hiking and don't mind a lot of driving, I recommend taking more time and exploring both the east and west fjords, as well as parts of the north (we enjoyed the antics of a Minke whale on our whale watching tour from Husavik on a very calm and clear day--who knew the waters of the Arctic could rest in such a still state!--and the basalt columns and beach of Londgrangar was very peaceful).  And definitely look for some of the paths less travelled!

In case you missed it, I'm putting out a poetry collection on April 11, 2022.  I put this together in response to a poetry contest that I entered late last year.  As they required unpublished pieces, and would announce a winner by early spring, I decided mid-April would mark a good date for publication of most of the poems I entered.  Having just received notification of the contest winner and the name of the entry (*spoiler: not me :p), I will still wait for that release date, as it's only a couple of weeks away.

The contest had a requirement of a minimum of 48 pages.  Over the last three decades, I had scribbled down enough poems to fulfil that quota, so I put them together into a collection with four general themes: Nature & Time; Good & Evil/Live & Death; For the Young at Heart; and Family.  Looking at that collection, I then had the brainstorm that, if I added a few more, I might have something worth publishing to the wider world.

And thus the birth of Dancing Words.

Most people are unaware of my poetry, which doesn't surprise me in the least, seeing as I've never published such before.  Nor have I actively written much in the way of poems for quite a few years (although 3 did appear in 2003 after a bit of a traumatic year within the family).  Until Dancing Words.  I had wondered if I even had enough poetry in me to flesh out the contest pieces into something closer to 100 pages (the final book being just shy of that number, pictures included).  Turns out, I did, and nearly three dozen new poems popped into being between December and March (a dozen of them under the Nature Haikus, which came surprisingly quick and fairly easy--I leave to you whether that's impressive or not [if you've ever spat out a haiku, you'll probably understand]).

I don't remember writing any poetry (that I'd admit to) until high school.  In an interesting in-class assignment in OAC (that's grade 13, for those old enough to remember when that was a thing), the teacher put on some gentle music for five minutes and had us simply write down wherever popped into our minds: "Don't think about it; don't try to get it perfect; just put your pens to the page and write whatever comes out."  I liked that and the results of my subconscious yammerings so much, that I did various other such experiments with music at home (listening to things like Yanni, and Solitudes worked great for this, at least for me).  You'll find some of them (yes, from that long ago) in the Nature & Time section, as well as Juxtaposed, and Juxtaposed II from Good & Evil.

Other poems from high school days include the anthropomorphisation of inanimate objects (Rock Solid; Warm Embrace; Living Death), and the poems inspired by other literary works.  Some came from that time-frame, but not through any school-related projects (I was that geeky kid who might spend part of a vacation writing something like The End and The Beginning just for fun, or hear a news report and share her thoughts on paper, such as Choices of Life, and To Live).  In fact, with the exception of The Surfer, everything in the For the Young at Heart section originated from the mind of a kid in her teens and early twenties, and given that I'm gazing into the twilight years of my forties, that's not terribly recent.

A few of the poems started life as a micro-story which I adapted into a more poetic style.  For example, I wrote the original Cassie's Dance (four or five years ago) for a flash fiction contest where you wrote something under 500 words based on a provided picture.  The Gathering evolved from a first-year university project from a creative writing course that asked us to write the longest sentence we could starting with the classic phrase: "It was a dark and stormy night...".  And Lost and Found also started as a very short story that I had jotted down just for the heck of it many years ago.

Many of the older poems have a more youthful feel to them (at least to me, especially knowing their origin); some of it simply playful, a couple almost ridiculous (The Red Sleft of Crite definitely falls into this category), but I felt it important to include them nevertheless, both as a sort of evolution, and also hopefully something to bring a smile, even as you might ask yourself: "what the heck was that?".  I figure an honest collection of poetry needs to include both the deep--thought-provoking, mysterious, evocative--and the inane, just like life.
​
You'll find elements of my usual fantasy genre writing in some of the this collection, but you'll also discover a different side of my brain in Dancing Waves.  Enjoy!