This is a GORGEOUS picture of the clematis by the back gate at my house (see attached). It was taken by my housemate Jenanne, and I was watching, but I wasn't behind the camera. Anyway, it definitely shows exactly why living here is great. There are all sorts of interesting shadows in the yard and patterns in the frost on the kitchen windows and lots of other good things to photograph.

The local garbage and recycling collection schedule for 2006 and 2007 says that this Wednesday is garbage day.

The contents of the fruit bowl are as jumbled and transient as the items on the fridge. Right now there are three pears, two limes, one banana and three avocados piled on top of each other in the bowl.

The other day, Jenanne and I noticed that the last nectarine in the fruit bowl was still mostly green. But it had been there all week, and it was getting soft.

She said, “it’s like when someone tells you about an event and the number of the date and the day of the week don’t match. Will it happen on the 3rd or will it happen on Thursday?”

“What?” I didn’t understand immediately.

“It’s like the nectarine. Do you judge ripeness based on colour or texture? How do you know when it’s ready to eat?”

That’s a difficult question.

A photo of the lilac tree that grows just outside the kitchen window. It’s a record of the exuberant flowers that blossomed at the end of May, just as we were moving in.

I only sing when I’m alone. It isn’t a conscious decision, but I never let a song slip out when I’m in the company of anyone else – even someone I trust. It’s a mysterious reflex. But today I can hear the echo of my voice in this room. The sound reminds me of the character of this space when it was empty, before my housemate and I moved in. Until we started to unpack the boxes labeled “kitchen stuff,” the room was spacious and blank. White cupboards with red handles. Two large windows on adjacent walls. A new fridge.

A distinctive household hum accompanies this subtle and familiar echo. This ambient hum is made up of sounds from the fridge and the furnace, traffic outside and voices coming from downstairs. Am I really alone with so much auditory companionship? These sounds are easily overheard without conscious listening.

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