As I stare at the majestic, massive snowbank on the deck, mentally preparing for an afternoon of clearing the snow from the driveway, starting afresh after a bite of lunch, I also begin the writing process afresh.

Perhaps it’s because I have put much energy into writing for college that I find a block between me, the writer, and the parchment of the backlit screen I spend may hours at. Yet there are words, pictures, lyrics, and dreams being pent up in the little grey cells that call my head home. This new little home will house some of those words in hopes that I will hone this craft of writing.


I have called this space Backyard Roads for several reasons.

I think a back yard is a great place to spend one’s life. I grew up in several of them, playing baseball and soccer and football and ball hockey, fostering dreams of playing shortstop for my beloved Toronto Blue Jays. Digging around in gardens, pitching tents to camp in, pushing around the mower and raking the fallen Canadian leaves.

I love my bigger back yard – namely, Atlantic Canada. I firmly believe that I live in the most beautiful part of the world. Where else can you, within a morning’s drive, see the sea, flowing farmland, majestic mountains (hills to some, but they make my ears pop nonetheless), beautiful beaches, peaceful woodlands, and bustling cities? Having spent the last five summers visiting lots of little nooks and crannies around these small provinces, I also know that there are so many little gems to be discovered.

And I love driving the back roads. All things being equal, given a choice between the four-lane and the winding secondary road, I’ll find the nearest off-ramp, slow down a little, and enjoy the two-lane.

Call it a life of contentment. I don’t need to go far to find adventure, and I don’t need to get there particularly fast. After all, it’s right there in my back yard.

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