Pat Lowther, and a song.

A reading last night, at Audrey's, on Jasper, in Edmonton.

Christine Wiesenthal launched The Collected Works of Pat Lowther (NeWest Press).

You were not there.

There was a line I wanted to present to you, after, over a pint.

The hockey game had ended. (The Habs won.)

It was something about owning. Something like: "I am terrible at owning things."

Today I cannot find it, though the book is here, and I've turned the pages twice through.

I give you something yellow instead:

Song

I think you are a shaggy flower;

where I've touched you

my hands are yellow

(Pat Lowther)

Jasper.

Oh, Jasper. How lovely you remain. It had been
20 years since I'd spent time there (aside from
a short stop with my son when we were
entroute to Vancouver via train).





We stayed at the Jasper Park Lodge, where one of our favourite things was the free popcorn and lemonade stand.

The mountain wildlife did not disappoint. One couldn't have orchestrated a better showing.

We hiked.
We gassed up.

We took the sun on our deck.

And the vistas were sublime.

Found a crocus.

Jasper was especially good to us. First time on a tennis court in too long. One more thing: I'd forgotten how much fun croquet is.

Just clams.

Gaining an appreciation for west coast cuisine.

I'd meaning to stain this fence forever.

Life is art (and sometimes smoke).

[Blame it on the "shooter" glass.]

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
_____________________________ N a s t y

Mother and child reunions.(Logan and Taylor visit Middle: Nature is Good)

Mother, son, and daughter in Lucien Lake Regional Park, minutes from the house

berries and pussywillows

walking in the field across from the house

and to the swamp

we see cool things

like moose poo

deer remains

Greg and Logan test the waters

I'm in love with the landscape.

Feliz Cumpleanos.

Lovely surprises in the birthday box, including .... a weekend at www.fairmont.com/jasper

And who couldn't love a cup of coffee with freshly-roasted beans, a decorating magazine, and a seat in the sunlight.

After the April 1st party we didn't get much sleep, but we still went out for a run.

I was knackered.

And Greg had to wear a pair of my shorts because he'd forgotten his. (Ha ha ha).

Beside the hacienda in Middle Lake.

I'm not particularly well designed for running, but I'm dang thankful I can do it.

(New distance record, by the by: 22.2 K, and my time's improving, too.)

Party black and whites (and Roger in colour). Middle Lakers. April 1st. Much fooling.

I get ever older.

Post-party e-mail quote from Ken:

"Thanks again for having us, Shelley. We had a great time, as usual. Your soirees are the best place to be when in Middle :). It was wonderful to meet your new beau ... anyone who has eyes can see the happiness and joy in both your face and body.
All the best to the both of you!!!"

Frank didn't think his gift pillow was very funny. We did.

This is my favourite photo of the night.