Gordon Belsher, PEI, and seizing the day


I'm having a serious problem with delight. PEI is figuring prominently and it's odd because though I love PEI in its own way, it is far too tame for a wild soul like me. Give me the windswept shores of NS anytime, with their rocky beaches and spitting waves and preferably fog rolling in in…


stories repeat, and repeat, and repeat. They have the comfort of an old song. And yet, the tunes are different, the instruments vary. Isn’t is marvelous! This blog is filled with serendipitous loveliness. Pictures, excerpts from old books, titles of books long forgotten. Subscribe and be surprised every day.

Biblioklept

How many brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, and cousins of all degrees a little story has! And how few of the tales we listen to can lay any claim to originality! There is scarcely a story which I hear which I cannot connect with some family of myths, and whose pedigree I cannot ascertain with more or less precision.

Shakespeare drew the plots of his plays from Boccaccio or Straparola; but these Italians did not invent the tales they lent to the English dramatist. King Lear does not originate with Geofry of Monmouth, but comes from early Indian stores of fable, whence also are derived the Merchant of Venice and the pound of flesh, ay, and the very incident of the three caskets. But who would credit it, were it not proved by conclusive facts, that Johnny Sands is the inheritance of the whole Aryan family of nations, and that Peeping Tom…

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Oh Holy Night


It's half past midnight on Christmas Eve, and I am awash in contentment, despite the somewhat sinister flowing scent of cooking fish in the apartment. My boys are here with me, and one boy's sweet girlfriend, and we've just had the screamingly funniest night watching a horrendously awful rendition of the Jungle Book at the…

Migods, it’s cold out there!


It is COLD outside.  The kind of cold that tastes like you have an icicle between your teeth and are breathing through it.  The kind of cold that dries your eyeballs when the wind blows ("it's a DRY cold"), chaps your cheeks, makes you wish you'd brought that scarf, too, to wrap around any remaining…