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

Little changes...

 April 15, 2026

Life ebbs and flows, doesn’t it? You hit a point in time when it seems as if every day there’s another something new to be handled. Appointments to attend, meetings to navigate, chores to be seen to or arranged to be seen to. The serenity of a steady schedule will elude you, so you might as well not even long for that scarce commodity “peace and quiet.”

Then before you know it, you hit a calm patch, sigh with relief, and trust it only after a few days have elapsed without any hair-on-fire moments.

There are ebbs and flows with the weather, as well. David and I have gone from: listening in almost-disbelief as our daughter described the older clients she sees. Folks who are either too chilled or too warm, depending entirely upon their physiology and on any given day; to understanding that little thing completely and believing it normal.

And it’s likely because her clients are mostly elderly, she doesn’t even bat an eye when she comes downstairs on a very nice day to find one or both of her parents under a blanket.

It can be a challenge to keep yourself steady these days, too. At least I have found it so. I have noticed lately that I don’t naturally cope well when things go off the rails as I used to. After identifying that new little foible, I’ve tried different methods to get myself back on an even keel.

I’ve found taking a few minutes to sit quietly and just let myself breathe helps. I take note of my feet on the floor, and my inhalations, and I wait until I’ve mentally chased away the seeds of panic that are seeking to sow themselves into my psyche. It mostly works.

Patience, that Holy Grail of human attributes, continues to grow, slowly, day by day. There was a time that I had very little of that precious substance. Lately I’ve figured out that of all the personal traits that can serve me the most, that one, patience, is pretty close to the top of the list.

We’re chugging along through the month of April at a steady pace. There are only a handful of television shows we watch in the evenings—David watches more as he loves to stream, but he does that on his own and on his computer. The ones we watch together in the evening are winding down, now. Two have already ended their seasons, and the rest will be there by mid May.

One of the programs I like the best—The Voice—changed it’s viewing time from 8 in the evening, to 9 for its two hour show. Egads! I can report that I am morphing into my mother, because it was a struggle staying awake for the entire program. Now, I do tape it via our cable company’s DVR feature. That is a precautionary measure. If something comes up and we can’t watch on any given night, I know we won’t miss it.

I could have chosen to seek an earlier bedtime, but that likely wouldn’t have worked. You see, after we’re done our TV viewing on any given night, we retreat to our respective computers….and our respective sly and alluring rabbit holes.

Day by day, the sun rises a little earlier and sets a little later as Planet Earth makes its way around the sun. We don’t notice the changes all that much right now: the sun rose here today at 6:32 am and will set again at 8:00 pm; tomorrow those times will be 6:30 am and 8:02 pm. Incrementally more “daylight” that we only tend to notice after we’re further along into the spring, and in summer and the comparisons to early spring are no longer incremental.

If you’re wanting just “ten more minutes” of sunlight, simply wait a few days.

David and I both enjoyed the blast from the past—the Artemis II mission. We watched the blast-off, and the splash down, as well as taking in whatever news items were broadcast—including a clip showing the astronauts’ conversation with our Prime Minister, Mark Carney.

It was a nice distraction just when we needed one and reminded us of something fundamental. Not much, especially when it comes to humans and human nature, is ever truly brand new.

We have been here before. We likely will be again. It’s up to the most astute among us to take notes.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

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

 

 

  

 

Differences...

 April 8, 2026

I like to think that making assumptions about things is a practice mostly owned by the young. Or a habit born out of laziness, when the reason is not sufficiently, nor successfully developed or utilized. Unless one is still wet behind the ears, or supremely narcissistic, making any kind of judgement on first look is something we tend to outgrow over time, as we get more of life’s kaka on us.

How much time depends on the degree of perceptiveness one possesses.

We learn these lessons almost unawares and sometimes don’t realize we are learning them. But we do learn them. For an easy example, as I write this essay this morning, I can see out the window (around my ginormous monitor) that there’s a pretty blue sky, sunlight bathing the view, and grass seeming to turn greener as I watch. A younger me would think the day was warm outside. The current me knows better and always checks the present temperature before going forth out of doors.

If you’re wondering, it is currently just above freezing outside (36 F, 2C), but it “feels like” freezing (28 F, -2C).

We don’t often stop to think about how many decisions/judgements we make in the course of a normal day. It’s a lot. Whether to get up in the morning, and if so, when? How many pieces of toilet paper to use. Do I wash my hands after or not. If I do for how long? Do I dry my hands on the towel hanging on the rack, or do I grab a piece of paper towel? What am I going to wear? This is actually several decisions: bra or no bra and which one; which panties; long pants or skirt or do I opt for a dress; tee-shirt or blouse or pullover sweater. Socks, or no socks, and which ones. Slippers or shoes, or, God help me boots, and yes, which ones.

That’s fifteen (ish) decisions before you’ve even had your first cup of coffee!

Most of the choices/decisions we make are done by rote. At some point we’ve settled our preferences for how we like to do things, and those choices are practically automatic. And for the most part, these are choices that could be considered of less importance or consequence, big-picture-wise.

Sometimes we’ll stop and consider, and make a different choice, just for a change, but not often.

I think if we could take a time out and study the kinds of choices and decisions and judgements we make through a regular day, we would likely learn a lot about ourselves, who we are, what kind of people we are.

Not everyone has a tendency toward self-awareness. We don’t all live intentionally. We’re simply not all the same and that’s all right because we were not designed to be the same.

We are made of the same basic star-stuff; there are variations of design used in our assemblage, so we have differences among us, and that was all part of the Master’s plan.

Some of the things that we, as human beings come to loggerheads over are crucial and important matters, the outcomes of which can have far reaching consequences to the lives and welfare of many.

And some simply never rise to that level.

The first trick in life is learning how to discern between the differences that matter, and the ones that don’t. And because we’re all not the same, those lists we each make will not share all of the same qualities.

The more important trick in life is the ability to come to a consensus of what qualities are essential—and which ones really are just a matter of personal taste.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

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

 

Foolishness?

 April 1, 20226

Well, we’ve made it through March successfully, and here we are on April’s launch day.

Now, please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. But it seems to me that it’s been a long time since we, as a society, acknowledged the existence of “April Fool’s Day”. I’m not sure what the reason could be for that. But this morning I found it slightly diverting to venture forth some theories on the subject.

Perhaps we are now a culture far too sophisticated to take a morning to harmlessly prank and tease our neighbors, friends, and in some cases, those considered to be the thorns in our sides.

And hey, not even a full day was designated for the observances in the first place, at least not in my lived experience. What was with that? Every other noted day was the day of note for the whole day. But April Fool’s? It was a very real thing that noon hour was the point at which all pranking and tomfoolery was to cease and desist—or else!

But I digress.

Maybe we simply short circuited our propensity for foolishness. My possibly faulty recollection puts the point at which celebrating the day waned to have been in direct conjunction with the frenzy of anticipation of the historic date of January 1, 2000.

Folks indulged in such foolishness, creating a months-long, daily increasing fear of the approach of the new millennia that  the term “Y2K bug” was coined, and believed real. Do you recall the speculation wreaking event-horizon level havoc across our newly established technological age? Hell, after that display of human “sophistication”, there was no foolishness left within us thereafter to dedicate to even one morning a year.

But that can’t be it, because human foolishness is a never-ending story, truly knowing no bounds. We couldn’t simply have just used it all up.

There is one other way of thinking about things I came up with, and I wanted to share this one last. As is always helpful, we should briefly consider something else, the acknowledgement of which also (and maybe not so unconnected) has fallen out of fashion: considering the history of the situation. Looking at the history of any situation is always a worthwhile endeavor. Hence the saying: if you don’t study the past how can you step into the future?

Why was it that April Fool’s Day became popular thing in the first place? Its existence stretches far back, not just several decades or centuries, but, some claim, millennia.

How far back? Why, we’re talking as far back as the adoption of the Gregorian calendar (1582), or before that, with Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales (1380s). There are even those who believe that the day goes all the way back to Ancient Rome and the Festival of Hilaria—yes, even before the birth of Christ!

If that last theory of the origin of April Fool’s Day is true, well, what on earth could have happened so quickly (in the historical sense), so unexpectedly, to have knocked all need for a single morning dedicated to human beings expressing their inner foolishness, their complete inanity? Why, for a cherished tradition to just slide right off the human consciousness like that, there must have been something so traumatic, so damaging, so unnatural….

Here the author pauses, shakes her head and takes a moment to look around her. She scans the news, the daily horoscopes, and even the annals of various social media platforms. Her eyes widen in a sudden epiphanous moment. Her face undergoes a transformation of expression sliding right from avid curiosity to abject chagrin.

Never mind. I completely understand. There’s more than enough foolishness surrounding us at this moment in time that we will likely, henceforth, file the observance of April Fool’s Day under the heading of “quaint”. Carry on. Nothing to see here.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

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