No Same Old For This Muchacha

 By Maryanna Gabriel

This is an excerpt from a piece of writing I did years ago
when backpacking in Europe before university. 

"My dream is of a special place.

A funky wood house, small and windowy, books, 

shelves, a fireplace, music, copper, leather, water colours, clay, a loom,

three cats and a dog or two... a garden, paintings of my own, hay, trees,

friendly and unfriendly, daisies, chives, geraniums, river, lake, or ocean -

I'm not fussy, a clear day, a rainy day, a fountain pen, ferns, moss,
the smell of cedar. Bare and uncluttered like my life will be.

I want all of this when I am ready." 

It has been quite a journey and I am more surprised than anyone for I am moving to the mountains, a new direction after much confusion. It is an experiment. No same-old for this muchacha. When the universe says yes!
Happiest of times to all for the new year... xo 

Getting Cosy

 By Maryanna Gabriel

With life's ups and downs it is a gift to sit back and relax. Made this today in honour of the season so I thought I would share the recipe as inspiration. 

Half roll croissant dough
Smoked salmon 
2 eggs (no salt)
honey

Placed the dough in a buttered casserole and used only half the roll. Inserted smoked salmon in crevices. Mixed two eggs with a bit of milk (dough is already salty). Poured this over the dough and then drizzled with honey. Topped with white cheddar and parmigiano. Baked 350 for half an hour. It puffed up beautifully. 

I will use the rest of the dough, closer to Christmas with fruit, raisins, cinnamon, and nuts.

When The Universe Says No

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls;
the most massive characters are seared with scars."
                                               - Kahil Gibran

The times call for compassion, kindness, and care - an antidote to chaos. Along with strong boundaries. And flexibility. How I deal with it....

It's not like the old days. What could once be relied upon, for varying reasons, can be relied upon no more. This calls for a new set of decisions, the result of me recently experiencing a breathtaking series of no's. Either I am doing the "no", or the direction I am heading toward is blocked. These are major life decisions I am talking about. 

Rather than feeling frustrated, I have adopted an attitude of "rejection is protection" and that something different is trying to outmanifest. The no's are points of navigation. Warnings of danger which are steering me away and I have faith that eventually I will find the "yes". 

In the meantime, this calls for sourcing deeper levels of self-compassion, kindness, and self-care, ripples which travel outward to a much needed world. 

,

Cosy Corner Books: Prepare To Smile

 By Maryanna Gabriel  

In the Stacks With Sean Wellington 

People who make us laugh are special, and Sean Wellington keeps me chuckling. I want to shout out what a great guy he is because he supports my book and sells it without taking anything. Not too many people back up island authors so generously.

He is the owner of Cosy Corner Books, located beside Goat's On A Roof in Coombes (on the way to Tofino, BC), and yes, there really are goats on the roof. He took over the family business and has been in this location for forty years. Easy to miss and well worth a gander. 

I say this because as may be seen by the picture, there are thousands of books, replete with treasures waiting to be unearthed. I know because I have unearthed many. All very much a Hogwart's situation with the stacks, and an adventure in consciousness once one enters the store. Be prepared to smile if you go. 

Second Printing ~ Music To My Ears

 By Maryanna Gabriel

A note this morning from my publisher of Pottersfield Press was music to my ears. We are going onto the second printing. Given my book was published last May, this deserves a yippee and a WAHOO!!! 

It really is a lovely piece of news. Thank you, everybody. 

Two Blue Eggs

 By Maryanna Gabriel

As I pack, I am thinking about home and carrying it within myself. It is not so much a place, but a state of mind. Following my process in the epic events of life brings me to new depths inwardly, and in the voyage I discover who I am, and come home to myself. Er, at least that is the idea. When a place does not work, one nests elsewhere. At least that is the case with me. 

Two Blue Eggs

You may remember, a robin made herself at home in a basket of petunias that hung outside by my door -  an omen of good cheer. She was a companion of sorts and we watched each other, she and I. One day, far too many people came and rang the noisy doorbell. At one point she flew at the head of a serviceman. She disappeared. I missed her. 

Now it is fall and as I take down my flowering baskets, I have discovered the treasure she guarded... two perfect little blue eggs. Her two babies. Oh my.

I feel badly for her. I swear at times she comes and watches me. She has a white band around her pupil and as she eyes me, I squint speculatively back. Are you my robin? How are you? I'm so sorry about your eggs. 

I wonder if she was able to build a nest elsewhere but somehow I think not, that it was too late in the season. 

Nesting is like that. I feel sad this is so. 

Being On The Inside

 By Maryanna Gabriel

I thought I had landed in heaven. Feeling discouraged about a home that got away on me, a real sweetie pie, I sought to soothe my soul in a cafe. An early morning fire was crackling soothingly. Yellow checked curtains hung with little ruffs and framed wood windows where plants hung. The walls were sanded barn board with rustic painted murals, sheep in the sunlight, a farmer reaping hay, that kind of thing. The table was a work of art where objects such as shells were beautifully arranged, I suppose in a coating of fiberglass, that held it together. The sound of Irish pipes played in the background. My

heart opened. 

It felt like heaven. Santa Claus came down this chimney and surely elves froliced in the garden. Nothing could ever possibly go wrong in a place like this and all the shadows of the world and in my life receded. Problems felt like little butterflies. I realized I had forgotten my glasses and stepped outside towards the car. A young, well-dressed woman lay collapsed, abutted onto the building, but also sprawled on the sidewalk with her bicyle to one side. Drugs. 

Here I was inside having a lovely coffee being warmed by the fire, feeling to be caught in a vision, and she lay in the cold on the hard concrete, as autumn leaves fell. It's weird how it all is. 

The Gaza

By Maryanna Gabriel..

T'is an eclipse, which generally indicates change, and what a wallop for the Middle East. When will we trade our swords for plowshares?

When I was twenty years old, I travelled with a friend to many places. One of them was working on a kibbutz in Israel in the Ha Nagev which was close to Gaza. Later, it would be given to the Palestinians in a peace treaty. Stricken by the recent news, I dug out my journal wondering what I would find. (Yes, I have been writing that long). It wasn't exactly relaxing. 

"It was just another normal day in the kitchen of Nirim. I was filling up the vegetable cleaning machine with carrots when the air raid siren went off. I have heard the sound before at home (in Canada) and thought nothing of it. However, in Israel with the Gaza Strip so close, I believe my heart missed a beat. I watched the women pour out of the dining room, the granary, and the store, as I stood poised by the machine. Everything stopped as people gazed at the sky. Mother's thought instinctively of their children

Missile Drawing - Dream In Israel

in the Etrog (nursery) and memories of the October war of  '73 must have been present. 

Then people began to move again. The spell was broken. It was an accident. Someone had pushed the button by mistake. I remember this country is surrounded on all sided by hostile neighbours. A fitful night as I go to sleep and the room crackles with light as if electrified. I dream I am wrestling with an unseen force and awaken cold with fear....A bomb went off in Jerusalem killing 16 people, and injuring 60 others."

Not what you would call vacation material. A new generation has forgotten violence begets same. A ghastly history repeats itself. My heart aches for the suffering.  

Not A Stick In The Mud

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Well, you certainly can't say I'm a stick in the mud. I've been up and down the coast several times, have criss-crossed British Columbia, but I am having a hard time finding a home. So many almosts and near misses that I am starting to take the hint. I think I am just going to give up and focus on what is next which is packing. A lot to do in a move. The wind is shifting when it comes to the economy and real estate anyway; waiting is not going to hurt. 

I have been on the move with my search for some time. Quite honestly? I am looking forward to the next step when I get to be still for awhile. An act of faith, really. 

On a bright note, Anita Adams, a podcaster. and life coach, recently interviewed me. Her podcast is called
"Joyful Journeys". I will post a link when it is published. She wanted to know about the Camino and I talked about my book and journey. 

Happy Thanksgiving everybody! May your turkey be merry and bright. 

Eagle In The Morning

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"You are the universe in ecstatic motion."

                                        - Rumi

    

Bright days are still upon us as summer disappears. Feeling betwixt and between things, I was lucky to get away and visit a beach yesterday. The morning was very cold but sunny and clear.

It seemed a sign somehow. An eagle was pulling apart a salmon for his breakfast. Watching him on the still ocean water, snow-capped mountains as a backdrop, with miles of beach, was one of those moments where one stops rabbiting away with one's mind and just breathes. Such beauty reflects the love that we are, so important to honour and safeguard.  

Reunion & Presentation

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Book Presentation

The first thing I did upon returning to my home turf was visit the home where I grew up. It made me so happy to see it. It looked loved and cared for with even more fabulous decks.

I am fortunate to have good friends. It was tons of fun seeing everybody with two reunions that were back to back, one from our high school at West Vancouver Secondary, and one from our  old Outdoor Club. The bonding from both is still intense and it is possible the intervening shut-down with the pandemic helped us enjoy ourselves even more. The weather was ideal and quite honestly, we were enormously blessed to have had what we had.

Banyen Books

I also managed to visit my mother-in-law who is quietly losing weight and sleeping most of the time in extended care. She opened her eyes and gave me the biggest smiles as I told her little stories. I wish I was closer. She is one of the most comforting people I know. The trip into Vancouver also led me to Banyen Books, one of the greatest bookstores, and was it ever exciting to find my book on the "Travel, Pilgrimages, & Sacred Places" shelf. 

The presentation for the book at the West Vancouver Memorial Libary went really well. It takes a lot of energy to get up in front of people and I worked hard at perfecting the slides beforehand. They were an appreciative audience and so it was a highly rewarding experience, especially the interesting discussions that were engendered. 

And now coming home, my heart is warm with the memory and a little sad it is all over. 

Hospitalero; Return To The Camino

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

Who knew? There is a lot to this.

I just came through an intense weekend of training along with nine others so that I may return to the Camino as someone who assists in the refugios. Sounds like a a good way to help out and keep the Camino spirit going. Mary Virtue, who heads the Victoria Chapter for the Camino, is a going concern. She and Daphne, another experienced volunteer, led us through every contingency as we prepared for the experience together. It was a bit like grown-up summer camp except it was very much in the Camino way. The Camino way is hard to describe. 

For one thing it involves Basaque cake, empanadas, bean soup, chorizo, olives, and of course dry wine, as we laughed, cried, poured over maps, sang, role-played, shared information, wisdom, and talked about the current state of the Camino, the needs and wants of those walking it now and those who were there as hospitaleros at present, and a man who had just returned. And of course how best to make a contribution without keeling over in a dead feint. 

We even got recipes. The cake below was made by Mary and is often found on the Camino. I loved every minute of it. The camaraderie was indisputable and it was wonderful to talk about it with people who immediately "got it" and who had so many stories to share.

Glimmers

 By Maryanna Gabriel

This isn't my idea, glimmers. I heard someone else do this riff, and I have no idea who to credit it to, but I pass it on as a ray of hope. Like a crystal being held to the sun, glimmers are little pieces of happiness even when something is way off. The robin that lived in my basket of petunias has flown the coop. She was a glimmer. 

It means one may still feel contentment and flashes of joy, no matter what is happening. Victor Frankl, the renouned psychoanalyst, wrote of finding beauty and kindness, even in the death camps of World War ll. The glimmers kept him going. 

Today the sky is filled with smoke. I have no idea why. It could be from Washington, it could be from Kelowna, or it could be from Strathcona Park up the island. I swim with many who are playing on floaties, eating hotdogs, and paddling along on boogie boards. The air is caught in a warm bubble and the sky is an uncanny grayish white. The ominous colour and temperature is ignored in the summer play. Set in this apocalyptic eeriness, it is a glimmer, as my body revels in a summer swim. 

Searching For Home

 By Maryanna Gabriel

PRAYERS
FOR THOSE LOSING THEIR HOMES IN THE WILDFIRES 

"And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything."

 - Shakespeare, As You Like It

"Home"
watercolour
by Maryanna Gabriel

I suppose the question of home is a pervasive one with climate change, and the world either flooding, or burning, and where people are fleeing for their lives. Not good. 

After a great deal of thought and for numerous reason, I have sold my townhome. This has certainly stirred things up. With my family scattered, and my mother gone, I find myself asking what is home and what does the idea constitute, and how does that fit into who I am now? I sleep, and dream I am returning to my roots and memories held there, then I wake up and realize there is nowhere to return to. 

So, I have been travelling many miles, in and between the fires, looking through many cities. My poor protesting back. The upshot? You can take the woman out of the coast, but you can't take the coast out of the woman. Something about water and needing to be around it seems to have won out, despite the breath-taking beauty of inland mountainous regions and plains of this gloriously beautiful country.

Soon I will have to pack. But for now, I am just going to enjoy the calm asylum I have created as I slowly narrow the geographies. 

A Major Moment In Tanner's Books

 By Maryanna Gabriel

You can't just write a book. You have to do stuff around it. As if the writing isn't enough. 

One is supposed to be promoting and it was a massive part of my training when I studied for my MFA. A never ending natter in one's mind of course, and I often wonder how much is enough.

Yesterday, I walked into Tanner's Books, in the seaside town of Sidney BC (one of my favourite places with a wonderful magazine selection) and moved to the shelf closest to my heart, travel. I was staring rather happily at the Bill Bryson section, and scanned my way past something about lemon trees in Italy, when I just about keeled over. There was my book! Not just one. A bunch!

I am not sure if I ran to the front desk but I moved very quickly in that general direction. How did they get them???? We-eeee-e-ll, came the reply, someone asked for it, and then they decided to get several, the Camino being a popular subject. 

Holy smokes. One of those moments. 

They asked would I sign. Why yes, I would. That was before I made off with a copy of Alba Donati's, Diary of a Tuscan Bookshop. It wasn't until I got home that I realized my rather prolific publisher, Lesley Choyce, was pictured above with his most recent book, Around England With A Dog.

Next time. 

John Brierly

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"Will you stay awhile and lose yourself

in the tiny grove of holm oak...?"

- John Brierly

It is with great sadness I learn that John Brierly, the author of A Pilgrim's Guide to the Camino de Santiago, The Way of Saint James, a travel guide which he updated every year, has passed away, this summer of 2023. He finally succombed to cancer. It is like losing a trusted friend.

John Brierly

Every year John revised the guide, and his book with inspirational thoughts that accompany it, have been a light for many. He was a light for me. His contribution to the Camino has been enormous.

In a podcast this year, "Behind the Scenes of the Camino", he revealed that his daughter Gemma has been working alongside him. It is looking like she will be able to carry the work forward and will be doing the publications.

It figures he lived with his family in Findhorn for a time, a spiritual community in Scotland, and a place where I once sought refuge for a broken heart. May peace be with you, John. 

Book Review!

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

"A woman washes Gabriel’s suffering feet; she asks only prayers in return.

The full spectrum of humanity, all of its greed and selflessness,

is here for observation, and observe Gabriel does."  

That robin is still living in the basket of petunias.              

Always a bit of stir getting feedback on one's writing. To get to the point of publication requires much
of it. Through the process I have been lucky enough to develop a strong sense of what goes against the grain and what might be a good recommendation. At several points I had to hold out against what  would weaken the story line; one can't be passive in this business.   

 

One of my favourite movies is Genius, about Max Perkins, a man who made such writers as Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and Wolfe. He is an editor who has not been given credit enough, and a rare talent. Colin Firth does such a wonderful job of capturing his spirit. 

At this point, I find myself fortunate to have received a book review! It has taken me a whole week to read it from start to finish. Just not brave enough. Finally, at the dentist's office I dove in. It was a kind analysis. Thank you to BC Book Review. 

https://thebcreview.ca/2023/07/16/1842-brooks-gabriel/

Robin Crazies

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Right outside my front door is a hanging basket of petunias. Great, right? A robin has been bringing wisps of hay and tiny branches covered in moss and placing them domestically about the basket. She has been most insistent.

Please forgive me when I tell you this. I cleaned out the basket and as I swept away the fallen blossoms, I could see this was not a passing fancy. Robin has moved in. For her own sake, and the sake of my petunias, I upped the ante because even I know setting up house by front doors is not a great choice. Perhaps she was raised by a swallow. 

Build a shield, I thought, that's the ticket. I positioned a tripod of three skewers, pointy side up, meaning MOVE ON (for your own good) SIGNED THE MANAGEMENT. Besides, the nesting season is over, for goodness sake. 

"I tried to steal a photograph." 

The next morning one skewer was flipped to the ground as the robin regarded me warily from her flowery perch. Cautiously, I inched beneath her and watered my container zucchini. She held her ground. I tried to steal a photograph. She did not move. This morning when I got up, my first action was to peer through the window to see if Robin was amid the petunias. She was. 24/7 then. 

I have crumbled. Maybe toxins in the environment have scrambled her reasoning. I am unable to muster more fodder. Who cares about petunias, anyway? If she's that attached to the hanging basket then I shall let Robin be. 

Slither Somewhere Else

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

Ahhh... summer. The need to rest. And heat. Er. Cough. And forest fires. I was expiring by a lakeside ahead of the tourists when a garter snake stopped directly in front of me and stared. I stared back. What was it thinking with its beady little eyes and raised head as it regarded me so intently? Ol' snake eyes. It was maybe 18 inches long with blue stripes along a dark body.

Maybe it was a totem. The snake symbol may mean healing, as in the medical symbol of the Staff of Aesculapius, or change. as in the shedding of its skin. But this snake's skin was glistening and fresh.

Suddenly, it came right for me. No, thank you. Not that I was afraid. Just not particularly wanting to be slithered upon. Go slither somewhere else. I held my Birkenstock up as a shield, and fortunately the movement worked. The snake veered into the bushes behind me. Not that it would bite. At the same time, one doesn't necessarily want to be charged by a snake during one's r 'n r. 

Once home, I looked the up symbolism. It means taking the negative (as in venomous bites) and transmuting the poison into a positive. Well, that fits. It is what I have done. Done on the Camino. Done in the book. Done in my life. So I guess snake is my totem animal. Don't mess with me. 

June Ferry To Gabriola

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

     Gabriola Island is nearby, and I thought I would explore. A sign at the terminal said Malcolm Lowry was the only famous Canadian author to consider living on the island. Obviously, they have not heard of me! (Okay. Maybe not that famous.) My final destinatin was the same point of land that he and his wife Margerie had headed for, as they considered accepting a rental many years ago. In the end, their lease in Deep Cove, North Vancouver, was extended and the story "October Ferry To Gabriola" was born. I read Under The Volcano when I was going to university, rather fascinated by what a man in the throes of alcoholism and who had died choking on his own vomit, had come up with. 

      My first thought as I visited the island was envy. What a nice ferry they had! And a schedule to die for, it being more convenient than Salt Spring's. Go figger, because Salt Spring Island is larger and more populated. My mission of the day was to have fun. 

Stopped in Mad Rona's for coffee and wrote awhile, approving of the plants, the spacious wood tables, the sunlight which played with my pen as words crossed the page. So many beautiful parks and beaches, and truly a beautiful island. Lunch out at an ocean side restaurant proved to be fatal. My body paid for it for days. Nevermind. Sometimes it is just good to get out and about. 

Salt Spring Island Book Presentation

Author signing. 

 By Maryanna Gabriel

The presentation for my book went really well. It was so moving to see people I have known for so long in many unique ways.

The Salt Spring Library provided the best of equipment and a CBC theatrical type setting with the lighting and seating. After I worked through my nerves, it was fun doing the readings. 

It stunned me that when it was over that the audience stayed seated. I was done, but they were not. What followed were a series of more intimate questions that went on for some time. This touched me deeply.

It made it all meaningful and worthwhile.

What About My Hair?

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

The upshot is that I have been cooking with a lot of onions. Good thing I like onions. 

As if writing was not enough, being published requires even more skills. Right now I am madly beavering away on what I am going to say when I stand in front of an audience. There are also edits to be done for a short story which has been accepted. This sounds like a fantasy blog, but really? All true.

It's strange to be turned inward in varying writerly gyrations with the creation of a manuscript, turning down invitations, and obsessively mulling over every word, and to now do the opposite and turn outward. I have to meet my public. Oh my goodness. What about my hair?

And I have been asked to send a book to a reviewer. Fingers crossed. 

Covid Arm

 By Maryanna Gabriel

The end of the onion is used. 

Yeah, for the lowly onion. 

Ever since I felt forced to take the Covid vaccine, my arm has hurt. Lately it has been worse. I love to swim and it was to the point where I could barely manage.

Where I live in the Pacific Northwest, there is a doctor shortage, so I did some research. The discovery was that many are suffering from "Covid Arm", among other adverse reactions. I decided it was not muscular, as the pain radiated down my arm and up my neck, then into my brain. So not a problem resulting from the muscle then. (I must have received the last dose from the bottom of a barrel.)

With further reading, I learned an onion end can act as a poultice and draw out toxins. Wrapping an onion end around the injection site with bandages to keep it in place, and feeling like an Egyptian mummy, I encased the bandages with a plastic bag and went to sleep. 

When I woke up, there was a brown mark which I washed off but I was immediately, oh joy, pain free. How wonderful - the first time since the shot. It was working then. The next night, I repeated the poultice and woke up with a green streak on my arm. Pretty weird. Suddenly, I started to feel sick, aching joints, running hot and cold body temperature, and I realized I had triggered an immune response. My arm, however, felt great.

The next day, after repeating the poultice, there were strange brown bruises along the inside of my lower arm and at one point my palm looked black (see picture below). Scary. Last night I put the onion on the bruises, and this time used slices of potato on the injection site, and thought to myself if I add cheese I could be the fixings for a scalloped dish.

Casseroling myself out of bed this morning and reeking of onion, I leapt into an Epsom salt bath. While noticing an itching up my neck, my arm is back to normal. To tell you the truth, I deeply regret accepting whatever this was into my body because seriously? It sure as heck is not the onion. 

Self Care

 By Maryanna Gabriel

The father of my children died one year ago today. It seemed important to do nurturing things. My back was hurting badly, so I had work done on it and without any debate with myself, drove to my favourite place, Demitasse.

It is a little cafe in Victoria, set amid lovely trees and plants. I found myself having a mocha in the sunshine and most fortunately, I yielded to the Lime Cheesecake. Definitely a good decision. Last seen heading for the shore to watch the swirling tidepools.

Victoria is such a beautiful city. 

Going Potty

Going Potty

 By Maryanna Gabriel


Oh dear. Am not adapting well to strata life. A young lad who looked like he would be more comfortable behind a car wrench was standing on my transplanted Columbines cutting the flowers off my hedge. He had just lobbed a Christmas Rose into his discard bin. 

Am so not used to this. You will be happy to know I educated him on what the so-called weed was and that I was one of the people here who did their own gardening.

"No one told me," he said.

I am trying not to feel mortified. Some people like this type of thing, I suppose. But I am not adapting well. I thought the property was my own but I am being told it is not, that it is "common". It is enough to make a gardener go potty. 

My Secret Garden

 By Maryanna Gabriel

It has been gaspingly hot, breaking all records. The forests to the east are burning, and my family in Alberta are not able to go outside. Their skies are orange and the air quality is intolerable. Did we have a shoulder season between unseasonable cold and unseasonable hot? If we did, it was far too brief. 

It is soothing to escape to the backyard, tiny compared
to what I am used to, but charming none the less.

Groundcovers mingling madly. 

Years ago, an avid gardener spent a lot of time and energy on it. While it was not well understood by the intervening owner, I am getting acquainted with what is going on when, and what needs to be contained where. Ground covers have escaped and are mingling madly. All very zen studying it all and working out the rhythm of plantings.

Last night, I learned blackberry leaves are rife with minerals. Rather than madly glaring at the blackberries this morning, I stepped to where they are comingling, nevermind they are impinging on the rhubarb. Plucking the fresh new leaves for the morning smoothie, I recognized it was a gift, I had cast aside, and was now finally receiving. 

Spider Lake and Picnics

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Getting away from the riveting topic of books, one of the more exciting things to do as I explore my new geography is the expansiveness. One thing I am wondering right now is why is Spider Lake called that? It truly is a pretty place, but the name gives it a creepy feel (sorry spiders).

 Apparently it is because from the air, it vaguely resembles a spider. One wonders what was going through the mind of the person who named it. It does not look like a spider to me at all. 

The lake itself is fed by glaciers and underwater springs. The area became a park in 1981 and is set in 459 acres. We have Matilda and Bill McCormick to thank for its more pristine aspects. In 1889 the two set up a "resort" with tents and later built cabins. Because of this, the adjacent areas were deeded to them although the surrounding areas appear to be held by logging companys. A host of lodge owners continued with tourism down through the decades, but today it is the perfect spot for a picnic. Can hardly wait.

Love this time of year between the cold and the hot. Happy Mother's Day everybody.

Unboxing - The Book Arrives!

 By Maryanna Gabriel

After all this time, the dream has become a reality. The book, Walking The Camino: On Earth As It Is was delivered to my doorstep. Yours, if you ordered it, should not be long. |

What first went through my mind when I opened the box was, "It's bigger than I thought". I love the cover. Lots of mixed emotions. One would think it is the end of the journey. It isn't though. It is the beginning of a whole new one. A writer can't sit on one's duff. A new set of dominos are in play.

For example, one does not freeze and say nothing when a person says, I'd love to read your book. Which actually happened yesterday. One says, Oh, what luck. I just happen to have a copy. Would you like me to sign it? And so forth. 

Geez, Maryanna.

I'll try practicing in the mirror. 

When I Get Home

 by Maryanna Gabriel

Have caught myself several times saying..."when I get home I'm going to..." It is when I think of the
garden. Then I remember. Hey, wait a minute! It is no longer mine.

After twenty-eight years of creating it, some part of me is still stuck in a garden bed in my old home on Salt Spring Island. A recent drive-by was a shock. The new owner had painted the house pink from a deep blue and the lovely cedar shutters with hearts cut out of them were a vivid white. The overall effect was one of a strawberry shortcake. You would think I would remember, but brains like to track old neural pathways it would seem. 

My new garden is lovely and infinitely more manageable. I am delighted to have discovered a blooming magnolia tree. Now off I go to transplant a columbine. 

A blooming magnolia tree.

Of Commas & Dashes

 By Maryanna Gabriel

It is like a nervous tic. The publisher and I have emerged from varying discourses on the merits of dashes and the intransigency of commas when it comes to editing, and hurrah, the book will be arriving shortly at my doorstep. 

My, my. Which means it is imminently available. I wonder at the channels publishing now takes with the book's journey as it goes out to distributors. Pretty exciting.  

I have received fan mail. Also exciting. A woman has written from New York saying she enjoyed the audio book and is asking me about a certain hostel at the midpoint. She has already done the Camino twice, the last journey being for her seventieth birthday. How inspiring! She is readying herself for a walk from Lourdes to the beginning of the Camino Frances. So much fun, and why not?