The Summer Place

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About this blog

Not all journeys go very far. But they can still take time.

I've lived at my family's property, a mere half-hour from Victoria, most summers of my life. Other than the journals I keep on trips, about the only time I write these days is when I wake up at The Summer Place.

I'll stumble across these writings on scraps of paper, in abandoned journals or dashed off on a random page of my meeting notepad. I thought I'd offer them up as I rediscover them. I hope you enjoy the journey.

  • The trip
  • The ants come marching one by one
Trip Start Unknown
Trip End Ongoing

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