The Vaquita Porpoise
Sylvia Shawcross
People are wearing things. They’re sporting blue bracelets and outrageous tattoos and bald heads or beards or flags or make-up or decals or pins or memes on teeshirts and...
Horton is a Hoot
Sylvia Shawcross
And so it was that Moe was standing half-way down my walkway with his cellphone in hand. I like Moe. I’ve met him before. He delivers packages. He’s from...
Spectacle
Sylvia Shawcross
There are two types of people in this world: the introspectors and the exospectors. Well… there are actually three if you count the people who have no spect at...
A flare for the traumatic
Sylvia Shawcross
It was too cold. That’s all I’m saying. It has been a long and rather temperate summer and these colder nights and now days, although logically they shouldn’t be,...
Cedar Potpourri
Sylvia Shawcross
At the front of my hovel is a cedar bush long overgrown now. The birds love this bush and often nest there. The robins love it most of all...
Only Whales should be in Pods
Sylvia Shawcross
And so, I had my cup of coffee and the cat was fed and the morning looked grimly cloudy but at least not cold and it was a Monday...
Turning Technology
Sylvia Shawcross
Now, I could write about the way the leaves on the maples are beginning to fall without that cold snap at night that drapes the forest in colours. I...
Hungry Landscapers
Sylvia Shawcross
Some days we wake up in dream memory of a Gainsborough landscape with the soft light promise of a sweet warm day in the sun and the green fields...
The man on the stage
Sylvia Shawcross
Here is some unsolicited advice from an old woman living in the wilderness of Canada. I mean well. There is something going on in the world that you cared...
The Scuppering
Sylvia Shawcross
And so the Puppet Masters smiled. Now children, it is not difficult. Not difficult at all. There’s this thing called the third option. It always exists. It always has....
Progress and Potatoes
Sylvia Shawcross
Please note this is a humour piece which is not something people may want to read depending on the state of your country and how demoralized/angry you may be...
Whistling in the Dark
Sylvia Shawcross
In the morning, the bobolink sings. It always heartens me—listening to the morning chorus of creatures waking up to the sun singing. Imagine. When was the last time any...
Maybe better than we did
Sylvia Shawcross
Now, Godot the raccoon, now aptly named Myrtle-Godot arrived plump and tired and fuzzy at dawn for what would be her morning feed. She laid her cool fingers on...
101 Things “not” to do before you die
Sylvia Shawcross
1. Try not to get born in the first place. * 2. If born, don’t expect that the mere happenstance of your birth entitles you to be an idiot....
Wings, Prayers and Hooplas
Sylvia Shawcross
It took me a year before I finally succumbed to a phone that would accept 5G. They bugged me and bugged me by phone and email and text messages...
We have no piece on their piechart
Sylvia Shawcross
There is a lusty bird that sings at dusk outside my window high in the cedar tree. I’ve never seen him but he warbles wildly and poignantly as if...
Out of the Box
Sylvia Shawcross
With the end of winter comes a death rattle deep from the throat of the cold. It has sputtered snow in between the rain and left the spring grasses...
Building bridges to nowhere?
Sylvia Shawcross There was a wild wind and a wicked sky and a cold cold day. North of here the power went out for a long long time and...
In the hollow of the rock
Sylvia Shawcross It is cold again at night and the raccoons that reach their little hands up to the bowl of food are not there under the porch light...
The Dark Days of Winter
Sylvia Shawcross Out there the freezing rain settles crystals on the high snow and in the trees and dens the animals are warm and dreaming. Inside the people in...
