Following the Herd

 

"I need some of that Bog Rosemary you mix with your Raspberry Screech," said spouse. "Go up to Mount Scio tomorrow and see if you can round some up."

She has been toiling relentlessly in the kitchen recently, experimenting with

Mary Jane

 

At 3:30 in the morning, the cell phone under my pillow vibrated impatiently like a trapped bumblebee. I place it there strategically to alert the constabulary in case Big Eddie, Minister of Outports and Environmental Destruction, decides to send his

Through Rose-tinted Glasses

 

 

"You never know who's who in government these days or what they're up to," I said to spouse as we followed the evening news on the people's channel. "Like demons, they shape-shift all the time. Double Dipper Byrne is now

OUMUAMUA, THE SEQUEL

 

Location: Isolation cell on Starship Oumuamua, somewhere in the Pegasus Constellation. Earth distance:643,425,000 km. Sun distance: 546,000,000 km. Speed: 100 km/s (At that speed Dear Leader Duh-wite could get in his Audi A8 in St. John's, NL and be in

OUMUAMUA

 

My snitch, RS from MP, has been back in touch recently after many months of silence. "Government is a dangerous place to work these days," he whispered. "You never know when you'll be vaporized and replaced by a friend of

THE FLAT EARTH SOCIETY

I much prefer Raspberry Screech as an aid to restful slumber and as a tonic for late-night hallucinations but it is a rare beverage these days as a result of the iceberg-ice tax imposed on the toiling masses by Dear

Don't Let It Get To You

 

Spouse was still softly snoring in her peculiar northeast coast accent, a cross between West Country English and the ancient Saxon language, a sort of cultural lag from the time her family was resettled from Ringwood, County Hampshire, UK, way

Blue Days

If it sounds a little wintry, you'll have to understand

-song by Jessie Winchester

 

Spouse thought that my being down in the dumps lately was caused entirely by the slow but inevitable descent into the mini ice-age we call winter…

Shape-shifting Demons, and Salmon for Supper

The Virginia River trail snakes back and forth through woodland, marsh, and urban sprawl, in a slow climb from placid Quidi Vidi Lake to the height of land beyond the Waters. At the far end of the ancient path, on…

The Ghost of Sir Thomas Cochrane: Part Two

 

                               Government House, St. John's, built by Sir Thomas Cochrane between 1827 and 1832

 

It was no surprise that at such an early hour I should encounter this wispy figure flickering from the fog in front of me on the Virginia

The Ghost of Sir Thomas Cochrane

Summers are known to be fleeting in this neck of the woods. Often, well into August, balmy temperatures hide amongst the palm trees of the equatorial Southlands, too timid to challenge the nor'easters buffeting our strand.

Seasonal pursuits are best

Beware the Ides of March

 

On a dark and stormy night three months ago, a disembodied voice, like a witch's cackle, came from out of the gloom as I peeked outside our humble abode in the city. It seemed to say, "beware the Ides of…