Amateur is not a dirty word

Epiphanies come when I’m feeding out slack. Don’t tell my climbing partner. Because when he’s leading his way up a strenuous pitch of rock, he likes to know that I am watching with rapt attention, feeding out the rope in perfect increments, absolutely focused on his every micro-move, so that, should he fall, I will…

Future-proofing the world, one packet of loaner seeds at a time

On Wednesday, the first day of summer, I borrowed a packet of shelling peas from the library. I sifted through a box of seeds, picked out the peas, signed my name to the register and pledged to return my loan in, oh, about 5 months time – once I’ve planted and eaten its harvest, and…

Sorry to break this to you, introverts, but we need to get out more.

It’s the economy, relationships, stupid My spousally acquired health benefits expire when the ski season ends, so in April, I decided to make a last minute, literally down to the wire, effort at addressing a chronically neglected issue and its mysterious new sidekick, by booking a visit to a physiotherapist. Cue several lightbulb moments: this…

Brave Face

Her name was Kellie Daanen. We were seven, eight years old. She was one of my best friends. We sat together at lunch every day. One day, she said, “I’m an Aborigine.” “No, you’re not,” I told her. “How could you be? You have blue eyes.” She had incredible blue eyes, as arresting as the…

Boomerang Bags launch in Pemberton

On Friday, March 10, at 10:30am, a new black box appeared in the entry to the Pemberton Valley Supermarket. It had a boomerang stenciled on the front, and more than 400 reusable cloth grocery bags dropped inside until it was almost overflowing. A minute later, a woman was grabbing a small bag of groceries at…

Geography Lessons

15 years ago, the fella and I cut loose from an entry-level mainstream life (starter house in the burbs, grown-up jobs), to live out of 1987 Toyota Tercel and drive around North America, dirt bagging our way through the best rock climbing destinations we could find. I kept an angst-ridden journal, (“what is the purpose…

Let the revolution be colourful and full of song

I’ve only ever had two magazine stories killed – one of my very first, and one last year. It was just a sidebar. The magazine paid me for it. They ran something else in its place – something that fit alongside my feature story better. It made sense, on an editorial level. I wasn’t mad….