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It snowed yesterday in Johannesburg. My daughter sent me an excited text with photo at around 10am, and still I was pretty blasé, sipping coffee and cursing thoughtless patrons who didn’t know how to shut a door, bringing gasps of freezing air and the odd wisp of white into the shop. White polystyrene-like balls of…

It’s Monday. Again. What was your day like? I seemed to float around aimlessly for part of my day. As I look back at it I wonder what I did that was worth anything? Was I a productive member of society? I can’t really say I was. I drove around a great deal. I don’t…

 A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a                                                                                                                bucket—-  And you listening. A spider’s web, tense for the dew’s touch. A pail lifted, still and brimming—-mirror To tempt a first star to a tremor.   Cows are going home in that lane there, looping the hedges with                …

“The deepest secrets in our heart of hearts is that we are writing because we love the world, and why not finally carry that secret out with our bodies into the living rooms and porches, backyards and grocery stores? Let the whole thing flower: the person, the person writing the poem. And let us always…

This morning I met up with a friend I made in difficult, searching times. I so admire her, she is intelligent, strong, tenacious, beautiful, courageous. She did what so many dream of doing but never find the will or the strength to: she left her high-paying, status, corporate job to start a  small restaurant. She…

I spent the weekend doing something very unusual – for me. I slept late, lay around, gazed at the TV catching up on every programme On Demand that looked interesting, watched the Opening of the Olympics that I recorded, fast forwarding through the boring bits (there have to be boring bits when something is over…

I was wondering, if I love writing so much, why do I leave it to the last thing I do in the day? Well, not completely the last – I do journal in the morning and jot down interesting tidbits during the day when I wait for clients or sit with a few unusual spare…

Everyone has a story. What is yours? As the clock ticks above me, I sit in front of the laptop fingers poised to type. A story. Maybe. I have a painting that an old family friend painted. We chose it as our wedding gift. I chose it, I don’t think Craig had much say, he…