More September flowers from Anne’s garden.

Greetings from pod two, where I’m receiving my sixth and last (!!) chemo treatment for ovarian cancer.

In the mail from BC today, this lovely cap my sister knitted for me. It’s a wool-silk-cashmere blend, very soft, and will keep my chemo-bald head comfortable and warm. 🤍

More September flowers from Anne’s garden.

From last night’s viewing: sandblasting scene in Marcel Carne’s “Le jour se lève” (1939).

September flowers from Anne’s garden.

Oh hello

Almost done the fifth of six chemo sessions. We will get there.

Number four of six chemo sessions done. Couldn’t do it without this lovely person. xo

One way to tell how disappointed you are with someone is when you can’t bring yourself to use their nickname.

When your sister grows veggies in BC and flies to Ottawa with them.

Chemo day (third one). Ian sits at my bedside, reading his book about Godard.

Another lovely bouquet from Anne’s garden…

My sister shared with me this morning that the newly elected Anglican Primate of Canada is a guy whose locker was right near mine in Grade 9.

Overheard nurse asking another patient how he got the name Skip. “In Newfoundland captains are called skippers.” “Oh, are you from Newfoundland?” “No, I’m from Sharbot Lake*.” 😆 *tiny place in cottage country west of Perth

Heat. Gentle breeze. Green tea with jasmine. Hair falling out faster now… have more or less resigned myself to it.

Three young rascals in our backyard.

Post and beam. Portrait of my late father. He and my Mom had been living in a Banff Centre staff house, but decided to have their own built. (Canmore, c. 1990.)

My neighbour Anne brought flowers from her garden, and muffins, and we sat and chatted on the front porch for an hour. I am utterly depleted by the chemo but that made me feel a bit more human. 🤍

Caring men of the day, I salute you.

How to make me well up: tell me after giving me a really nice pre-chemo short haircut that there’s no charge, that you just want me to be okay. 💧🤍💧

Three days later, a skim coat of petals.

The crabapple, May 13. Many of these were planted in 1967 for Canada’s centennial, an arborist once told me.

Being home after a week in hospital is strangely thrilling. Even just sitting on the sofa—heavenly.

Got a sweet get-well card from our neighbours’ child. On the left is my name and on the right “bon rétablissement.”

Here since Monday. : (

5:30 a.m. Hospital insomnia still life

Blow, you sunny spring breezes! (Feeling the specialness of ordinary things…because I’m going in for surgery tomorrow. I haven’t told the raccoon.)

Enormous white pine—as seen from sixth floor of 1081 Carling Ave. (Ottawa).

Pasque flowers (or prairie crocuses) on our walk last night.

Ah yes my beauties. April 19 and the bloodroot (Sanguineria canadensis) is now emerging.

Come unto me all ye that are heavy laden and cannot find a parking spot.

Expo 67 was known for excellent graphics… unless you were a contractor!

New book & tea.

7:30 p.m. at the launching pad

April 4. A bit of magic in the backyard.

That hairstyle rather cheered me up as I sat in the diagnostic imaging waiting room.

Who ever imagined buying a laundry hamper would give one a sense of shame? But so would driving around town looking for a Canadian one. Sigh.

A very interesting bit of history. Back when I used to hike in Kananaskis I had no idea this camp had been there.

March 14. Three girls are out on our street kicking a soccer ball around, laughing and jumping, no coats. This too is real. 🤍

While having my haircut today had a chat about Isaac Babel and languages with stylist Vera who is from Zaporizhzhia. Then at a café sat next to singer-songwriter Lynn Miles and compared notes about being night owls. It pays to leave the house!

A friend sends this photo from Old Ottawa South.

On my way in to vote (it’s election day in Ontario) noticed this candidate’s signs everywhere.

At around 6 PM, saw a guy with a full cart of groceries pull a runner at the Island Park Metro. One of the employees chased him to the middle of the parking lot and then stopped. Bad memories of a 2018 incident at the same store where a guy ended up between two houses, shot dead by cops.

In things that make you go hmm, yesterday's Spelling Bee accepted the word CAPELLINI (the pasta) but not CAPELIN (the fish).

I 💙 snow shadows.

All this snow prompted me to dig out my old (1970s) cross-country ski gaiters. Ian says they look like something from Norway in WW2 “except they would have been white.”

Brave souls out in Big Snow #2.

Thanks, somebody, for leaving this in the little neighbourhood library. A favourite author.

The valiant shovelers.