Reporting in...

 June 10, 2026

Did you miss me?

It’s funny the way we human beings get toddling along our life’s path, confident in our sense of ourselves, and where we’re headed. Just be-bopping along to the rhythm of our own drummers. Then, one day, when you least expect it…wham!

Yup, I had a wham.

When last we met, which was my essay of May 27^th, I announced my carpal tunnel surgery scheduled for the 3^rd of June.  What I had failed to mention is what had been happening in the week or so prior to that last essay. That was a failure on my part. I’ve promised, since the beginning of Wednesday’s Words, to be fully transparent with you, and in the last month I haven’t been. I sincerely apologize. I’m going to fix that now.

I suffer from dentophobia. It stems back to my childhood and a monster masquerading as a dentist to whom I was subjected. That was in the bad old days before the ubiquitous “they” realized that children were not just miniature adults. Lack of adequate freezing and just generally lack of adequate care, and I became a quivering gelatinous mess when it came time to go to the dentist. This became a deep-seated phobia which I could not overcome on my own. It took a lot of maturing on my part, and sincere prayers to begin to do that.

I began not going to the dentist regularly, which wasn’t good, either. To my credit, my children never knew I was this way and so they thought nothing of going to the dentist through their childhood.

So here I am in my 70s. I wear a top denture, gained when I needed my upper teeth removed in my early 40s after root canal procedures resulted with teeth breaking. Then, over time and one by one, I lost some of my lower teeth. I knew I was going to have to face getting the rest of them pulled and perhaps getting a bottom denture. I lost one in 2023 (with a new dentist but one who had won my trust) and then another one the first week of April this year, same dentist.

I had made a plan to get the rest taken care of and was working on my mental preparations to do just that. I’d been thinking September, after my carpal tunnel surgery.

I awoke on Tuesday, May 19^th with the most stunning, electric, and horrific pain in my mouth that I had ever experienced. No medications touched it. Sensodyne rapid relief tooth paste took the slightest edge off for a few minutes. So early the next day—Wednesday the 20^th—I called and got an emergency appointment to have another tooth extracted just after noon hour.

When I arrived, the dentist I trusted said he couldn’t tell for certain which of the three teeth on the left was causing the pain, as none of them were very good. So, with my agreement, he took all three.

The pain eased, of course, with the freezing. And then it was back the next day, Thursday. The Dentist had told me that if pain persisted to Monday, to call him. It did and I did.

He saw me Monday and told me I had a dry socket! He packed in something that was supposed to take that pain away and last for 24 to 48 hours. Whatever he gave me lasted exactly four hours.

It has improved slowly since then. By yesterday the pain was down to intermittent twinges. But for almost a week it was nearly unbearable. I have faith that the worst is over.

And now I have a wounded paw, as I did have my carpal tunnel surgery on June 3^rd , painful mouth and all. The hand hurt only the first day after surgery. Now, there’s no real pain in my hand at all. But I can’t yet use it for more than the simplest of tasks. For example, scratching my nose or assisting my other hand in putting on my glasses.

My husband noted that I have had one hell of a rough few weeks, and he’s right. Since my hand surgery I have been doing little more than resting. Tomorrow, I go back to the surgeon for my follow-up appointment.

Since it’s my right (dominant) hand that is in recovery, David helped me make temporary changes to the living room seating. We have a sofa with a recliner on either end. He has a table on his left, and I have one on my right. Between us lays a simple cushion that the dogs usually use. But the seat back of that middle cushion does fold down, to provide a flat surface on my left side with a couple of cup holders which I have been using, because I cannot yet pick up my water or my coffee cup with my right hand.

The dogs now use his (un-extended) recliner, and he has moved temporarily to the only other chair in the room, an electric powered chair that not only reclines, but will stand you up, too, if need be.

Daughter has been doing all cooking since the pain exploded, and husband has been taking good care of me, and all that is wonderful, but strange. I’m not fond of doing nothing. However, after everything I’ve experienced over the last almost-month, I’m allowing myself this do-nothing period, because I worry about doing something stupid and complicating my recovery.

There is one good thing—well, other than the excellent care with which my family has been treating me, and it’s this: I’m beginning to suspect that the reason that I didn’t particularly remember my last round of carpal tunnel surgery (on both hands, a couple weeks apart). It was probably too stressful and traumatic for me to remember.

I’m on the mend. And yes, I am very much aware how fortunate I am, that really all I’ve suffered is pain and inconvenience—though that tooth pain was excruciating. At my age, with that and my arthritis—well that’s not really much at all. So many others have it far worse.

Certainly, what I’ve been dealing with is nowhere near enough to cause me to stop being grateful for my blessings, every single moment of every single day.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

 

 

As May wanes...

 May 27, 2026

I hope my American friends were able to have a meaningful day earlier this week on Memorial Day. I was watching the weather reports, and it sure didn’t look that great over a lot of the country. I understand the day is one of somber commemoration. A time to remember and to pay respects to those who gave their lives in the defense of freedom.  But it’s also the day y’all cite as the first day of your summer season. Such a day features parades and other outdoor activities like picnics. I guess it’s no surprise but a definite disappointment when weather challenges the agenda.

I don’t know why lately y’all just can’t catch a break with the weather. At least that’s how it seems to me as I watch the news at night. I’m sure it’s even more frustrating for those of you who have to endure it.

This past Monday here wasn’t a holiday, but it was her regular day off work for our daughter. Therefore, it was also the day she went out and got the soil and the plants and the seeds she wanted. She spent so much time getting things she didn’t have a lot of time left to plant. But she got it finished by sundown yesterday.

It’s nice to look out into our backyard and see those boxes filled with soil and plants. We lost one of our four boxes at the end of last year’s growing season to the ravages of time and the predictable result of weather on wood. But then for an early Father’s Day gift, our son brought us a brand-new table garden to replace that one—a table garden he built himself for his dad.

Our walnut tree at the front of our house finally has leaves! Real, actual leaves instead of buds. They haven’t reached full size yet, but that will happen soon. I kind of consider that tree a no-nonsense plant. It has a purpose, and that purpose is growing walnuts. Come spring, it sprouts, grows leaves, and gets working on those walnuts. And the moment those little round bombs form amidst the branches? Those beautiful green leaves begin to turn yellow and fall off, one by one. That tree begins shedding leaves in August, little yellow slick when wet droppings that need to be raked or, when dry, blown. And it continues on until every last leaf is down, sometime in early October.

Next Wednesday, I am going to begin a six-to-eight-week slowdown. I’ll be having carpal tunnel surgery on my right hand.

Now, I did have this procedure once before, many years ago. Color me surprised when I discovered I could use my hands sufficiently to have to undergo it again. Last time it was both hands that needed the procedure. Thankfully this time it’s just the one. The downside is that one hand is my dominant hand.

All sorts of things I won’t be able to do during that recovery period I was quoted, but the chief one is typing. Well, typing with two hands.

There’s no question that I will definitely be out of commission next Wednesday. But the following Wednesday, I should be able to an essay—hunting and pecking with the fingers of my left hand.

It will definitely take a while, but I figure after a week of not doing much of anything, I’ll be raring to go. At least, that’s my plan.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

http://bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

Spring...

 May 20, 2026

It’s definitely spring. And not only is it spring, it is a spring with delusions of summer!

The last few days here were very hot and humid. Looking at the sky, it was easy to imagine that there would be a thunderstorm or two before too long.

What wasn’t easy to imagine? That my cell phone would go off with an emergency alert 10 times yesterday between about 4:30 and 6:30.

Usually that two-toned strident alarm, rare as it has been, is the announcement of an amber alert.

Yesterday, it was a weather alert of tornado warnings for our “mobile coverage area”. Our coverage area is a significant chunk of southern Ontario, so I wasn’t overly worried. But I took the warning seriously. I know of too many people who have paid too high a price when tornadoes appeared near them, not to.

A visit to the “maps” section of the Weather Network gave me an idea of what the situation was now and would be in the next few hours. Sure enough, a long line of active weather, stretching north and south of us, was heading, west to east, and would be over us before long. I activated the map “forward” feature and watched the forecasted progression. We would be in the active zone for the next two and a half hours.

A few minutes later, my daughter came downstairs and announced her intention to sit on the front porch and watch the storm. Our porch is now and has always been covered by a roof, but it is also open. It’s a covered space, not an enclosed one. As long as the winds don’t get too strong blowing from the north, south or east, we’re protected. But this weather was coming from the west, and our house quite literally had our backs.

I can’t tell you how many times through the years our family has done this very thing. It’s a tradition, of sorts, that goes back to our first days in this house when our children were 17, 12, and 11.

We’re all very lucky that storms have never frightened us. Mostly, we’ve appreciated the rain—especially if, like last night, the arrival of the downpour also gutted the humidity.

It was like old times, the two of us out there as the rain came down, hard and fast. The winds had died off a bit, and we enjoyed watching the lawns get watered, and drivers in their cars, few but brave, slow down as the drivers headed home.

It gave us a chance to see how the new sewer openings worked, and I am not at all certain that we could give them a passing grade.

Eventually, the winds shifted just enough that we began to be misted. Not long after that, we decided that inside was a better option.  

Fortunately, there were no tornadoes spotted in our area. This morning dawned, warm but not particularly hot, and that was a blessing.

This past weekend was Victoria Day weekend here in Canada. The holiday itself was observed on Monday, ensuring that most people enjoyed a long weekend. It used to be the weekend for fireworks; but those big, beautiful, pyrotechnic displays are now mostly enjoyed on Canada Day. So, if you’re visiting Canada on July 1^st, which this year will be on a Wednesday, you can look forward to a little something extra while on vacation.

The Victoria Day weekend is also considered planting weekend—unless, like this year, it comes earlier than normal (it’s the Monday before May 24^th). Most folks planting home gardens will be doing so next weekend. We’re looking forward, here in the Ashbury household, to being among them.

This year, with our enthusiastic encouragement, daughter will he head gardener. I just know it’s all going to go splendidly.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

 

 

 

My most priceless treasure...

 May 13, 2026

I hope that those of you who are mothers had a wonderful Mother’s Day on Sunday. I’m very much like my own mother, when it comes to this annual celebration. Like her, I don’t really care if I receive any gifts or not. As long as I hear from my family, I’m good.

This year, as most years, I did hear from them all. That’s easy for our daughter as she does live here with us. So, she took it a step further and arranged for her son to visit so that together they could do the jobs that have been nagging at me—and that I can no longer accomplish all on my own. And which, truth be told, she can’t either. She needed some serious muscle.

I love a good spring cleaning, and this past weekend saw the drapes and carpet in my living room totally refreshed. Window opened, overhead fan on to circulate the lovely spring-like air, I was a happy woman.

Then on Monday the girls bought and then prepared dinner—grilled steak, garlic shrimp, roasted potatoes. I had a green salad with my own home-made dressing. Usually, I’m the only one who indulges in this, but my second daughter opted to have some as well. She really liked my dressing, and I promised I would make some up for her.

It’s a simple combination of olive oil, honey, apple cider vinegar and “salad herbs”. I make it at least a few hours before I’m going to eat it so that everything can blend properly.

And as one might expect on Mother’s Day there were flowers. I do love the flowers I get—hanging baskets from each of my grown children. My porch is once more properly adorned, a place of beauty and greenery—along with my wonderful wind chimes—to make an appealing place for a brief respite.

I used to spend a lot of time outside but have curtailed that practice over the last few years in deference to my arthritis. But I hate not going outside, so I’ve decided that I really don’t care if I look silly on the porch with a blanket over my legs in spring or summer. And a sweater over my shoulders which also tend to ache lately, too.

We had our Mother’s Day feast on Monday so that both girls could be there. They’re both busy with sometimes competing schedules. Moving a celebration is an accommodation that is easy to make, in order that we can all be together.

The very best gift that my family can give me, the one I cherish over everything else is, of course, the gift of themselves, and their time spent with me.

Nothing makes me happier than when I am surrounded by my loved ones. Because when they are here, they are not single beings in one place at one time. They have with them a flavor of every memory we’ve made together. I see them as they are, and as they were. Good times shared are never farther away than those memories.

Those memories—mine and their own—form the story of us. And that story is filled with all that we are, have been, and will be. It is a priceless, priceless treasure.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

 

 

Imagination...

 May 6, 2026

The sun is shining intermittently through the clouds and the birds are singing. The dampness of yesterday is hovering in the wings, like an understudy who prays the lead will stumble and fall. And swirling around and above and through everything is the sound of an earth-moving machine grunting and groaning, shifting and shoveling, as the work begins on the piece of construction that shall be created for yours truly to have full and unfettered access to the road from her house.

Of course, I have decided to be grateful for whatever the end result turns out to be, because I do know what was there, however temporarily. This, whatever we end up with, will be better.

The gentlemen at work in front of my house are not landscapers. They are a construction company. This is a difference that my husband had a bit of difficulty grasping earlier today. Fortunately, after the requisite amount of steam was released from his soul, we were able to set him to rights. First the concrete work, and then the landscaping.

I reminded him that the properties up and down the cross street to our north looked rough and tumble after their road construction – before the landscapers came and did quite a lovely finishing job of it all.

The challenges of getting older are not confined to one subdivision of the human experience.

I haven’t mentioned to him, but will, if necessary, that worse come to worse and he doesn’t like the end result? We have grandsons for that very purpose.

It’s springtime here in Southern Ontario. The neighborhood trees are beginning to leaf. Our walnut tree, of course, will be the last to provide its shade. In that trait it reminds me of that amazing weeping willow we had when I was a child. The last to get its leaves, and the first to lose them.

I miss my willow. That tree was impossibly high and incredibly magical to seven-year-old me. A very mature tree, its branches provided twigs that grew up and out and then down, creating the perfect childhood sanctuary where my imagination soared. Umbrella like in structure, it would keep the soft mists of a light rain from spoiling my play. I practically lived under that tree from spring until late autumn. When those protective twigs grew so that they lay on the grass, as they did every year, it was my job to trim them. I used the long-handled shears and trimmed them just enough. My first priority of course was protecting the sanctuary atmosphere of that, my most personal space.

But it wasn’t just the pocket of shade and the privacy provided by my green “screen” that I loved. One could sit on the grass, back to the trunk, and lounge within the luxury of a long-armed divan as sturdy roots on either side of me invited me to drape my arms over them. That natural nook had, I was convinced at the time, been created just for me.

One substantial and accommodating branch shot straight out from the trunk, several feet above my head, at a level ninety-degree angle from the ground, the perfect host for my own private swing. Made of strong rope and a cut and drilled and sanded four-inch-thick plank, I could swing to my heart’s content.

I was never lonely under my tree. My imagination furnished me with endless imaginary friends and wonderful adventures. I understand now that all of my play at that time was aimed at honing myt imagination.

I’m certain that if my parents were alive when it happened, they would not have been surprised in the least that I became a published author. My mother would have said I got the talent from my father.

She would have been right.

I am certainly learning how to be comfortable in my new office chair. I have it working to my best advantage, too.

For example, I don’t always need it raised up. Having it up is best for writing, and for whatever not-so-rare but still precious moments I may indulge in a game or three. All in the interest of keeping my mental faculties sharp, of course. Wordle and acrostics keep the noodle prime.

But if I’m going to watch videos, or podcasts, or just indulge in research, then I lower the seat. Lowered, I can more easily relax as I don’t have to be concerned with keeping my wheel-bearing chair, sitting on a somewhat sloping floor, from rolling away from my keyboard.

The ability to adapt is a valuable skill to have, don’t you think?

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

 

Not everyone is logical....

 April 29, 2026

One week later and I can report that our outing of last Wednesday was a success! New chair and new shoes have been acquired. And David chose to have lunch at a British-style pub restaurant that serves Guiness, and Stella (neither of which he would be interested in, as he is a recovering alcoholic and has been sober for more than forty years. I, on the other hand will have a Stella on occasion, but only if I am absent pain meds in my system and not driving. Yes, a rare thing indeed, but as usual, I digress.) This pub-restaurant also serves traditional British Pub Fare and have the best fish and chips!

Our first stop, of course, was the store that held the second-largest collection of office chairs available to us.

They were also the friendliest to our budget—but rest assured. That didn’t prevent met from overshooting the figure I’d envisioned as my goal in the end.

To be fair to myself, while the selection of chairs was large, there was a limiting factor I had never once considered. And that factor was the depth of the chair’s seat.

I am short. Shorter now than I was even ten years ago. In my prime I was 5’1”. I am now 4/9”.  Yes, my arms are also short. My daughter keeps threatening to buy me that T-shirt featuring a T-Rex, with the caption: If you’re happy and you know it clap your….oh.

I had compensated for this in the last chair I’d been using before my new one arrived on Saturday; the old chair wore a lumbar cushion, which took a good three inches of chair bottom.

Most of the chairs I tried out last Wednesday require me to boost myself further into the chair so that my butt would meet the angle created by the meeting of chair bottom and back. This left me feeling uncomfortable in that my feet did not reach the ground.

This is not a problem in and of itself; I do have an adjustable footrest, have had one for years, and have found it very handy for those moments when my arthritic knees are in need of relief.

A couple of the chairs I tried out last Wednesday had such deep seats that not even a footrest would help, as my knees were actually on the seat!

So there were a smaller number of chairs that would qualify right from the get-go for me. I was partial to those that had the lumbar cushion already built in. I didn’t want a seat that would let me sink; I needed a chair to support me over hours while I write, not encourage me to take a nap. In the end the one I chose also had a heater/massager function. Not something I considered or looked for, but a bonus, I suppose.

I’ll let you know after the first time I use it on purpose, as opposed to using it to ensure I knew how to and that it worked.

David tried the first chair he saw, one on sale, and he loved it. He closed his eyes in bliss, made happy-body sounds and I said, “Well, that was fast. Sold.” He immediately stood up and channeled his late father and said, “I’m not buying the first one I see!”

So I gestured toward the veritable sea of chairs, inviting him to have at it.

It took a while to get someone to assist us; I don’t want to be waited unnecessarily, but I wanted to find what I needed as quickly as is reasonable, and to do that I first needed the assistance of someone who, hopefully, knew their stock.

The young man who came over didn’t (know his stock) but he was willing to check for whatever, and so I was grateful for his assistance.

I like to consider myself a logical person. I had reasoned in preparation for this excursion that since the population of our area consisted of a high percentage of older folks, I would have no problem having the staff of this store assemble and then deliver our new chairs. I had even factored that sum I would inevitably pay into my budget.

Do you know that not every establishment has logical rules?

They, that is the corporate entity known henceforth as the store, could assemble the chairs, for a fee. They could deliver the chairs for a fee. They just simply could not do both—not no how, not no way.

David’s father once more took over his mouth with a demand to speak to the manager, but I was the more reasonable of us and got him to hush. I do understand that the solution to the problem is beyond the pay grade of anyone at the store level.

We finally agreed to have them assemble our chairs—and when they were ready, our grandson would bring his grandfather back to the store in his pick-up truck to collect the chairs.

And in case you were wondering, David did indeed end up buying the first chair he’d seen. And I was kind, and didn’t bother to mention that, unlike his late father, he almost always does.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

 

 

Shopping!

 April 22, 2026

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and yes, there are even little green buds on some of the trees! I know for fact that some of our spring bulbs have survived the terror that was infrastructure work last year. There are a few green shoots poking up, and even one daffodil a blooming!

I do believe the evidence is laying heavily on the side of it finally and truly being spring…but I am not going to ask David to remove the ice claw from my cane. Not just yet.

I did have him take it off once already, you see, near the end of March, or was it beginning of April? Irrelevant. What is relevant? He took it off in the morning and then had to put it on again in the late afternoon.

So, yeah, waiting a little while yet on that one.

Today is also the day when I plan to head out and buy myself a new office chair. The one I am sitting in is my old chair – as opposed to my “new chair” which I purchased in 2012. The new chair was one of the first ergonomic, mesh seat-and-back chairs on the market and it was pricey. It felt good for the first year, except in the winter.

My office being what it is heat-wise, I soon discovered that I had to have a layer of cloth of some sort between my body and the mesh, because without that I simply couldn’t get warm.

And, I have to admit that the manual controls on that thing were so complicated that I never really did get a handle on them. But I kept using it until I could no longer raise the level of the seat. Then I went back to my old chair for a while, because it was higher sitting than my mesh chair. But I kept the mesh chair for any guests I might have in my office to sit on.

The day has come, however, to say goodbye to both of them. Well, I probably won’t actually say goodbye today, because I’m not sure on when delivery might take place. But my heart has come to terms with the reality that I need new in this office of mine—not just my main chair but my “guest chair” as well, as I have it situated in such a way that I can sit on it and either face my electric fireplace, or the open door of a large file cabinet that serves as a narrow but absolutely useable table-top. The guest chair will not be as special as main chair. I don’t have to be ridiculous.

Office chair shopping is not the only kind of shopping I’ll be doing today. I’m going to go shoe shopping, too!

Yes, it’s time. I need a new pair of shoes, and I have a specific brand in mind. And in case you were anticipating a true shoe shopping extravaganza…no. I’ll be purchasing only one pair of shoes for myself. I’ve got my eye on those Sketchers slip-ons. My current pair of shoes—the shoes I wear outside when it’s not winter—are also Sketchers. I bought them online in early 2020, and they have served me well. But it has been almost six full years, and I really do need a new pair.

Not long ago I would make the most of my time, if I was headed out to go “shopping”. I would have lists and several stops planned. But alas, my stamina isn’t what it once was. Therefore, the plan currently is if there’s energy left after the chairs and the shoes, then it will be lunch out—a rare occasion, indeed.

Of course I will not be shopping alone. David will be accompanying me on this excursion. He, too, has need of both office chair and new shoes. And while he would, on his own, stop at one store where he could get both for an attractively nominal price, he is making the sacrifice of biting that frugality bullet and accompanying me to where, trust me, the prices will not be nominal.

The lunch out will be his just and well-earned reward, because eating out is his favorite “out” thing to do. And yes, dear reader, I will be sure to let him know that I greatly appreciate his sacrifice.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury