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  • Lady Sara

    A year ago this week we lost our lovely Sara: Australian Shepherdess extraordinaire, aged 16.

    …your gaze could cure
    multitudes, the silk of your head
    soothe any worry.
    You teach us to taste
    each morning as if it’s our first.

    And day after day you lie
    near my feet, dreaming and fixed
    on some distant thing that is, at last,
    outrunning you.

    Last night we went to Alix Goolden Hall to see/hear a Ballet BC performance of the impossibly lovely Stabat Mater by Pergolesi . I hadn’t realised till I was home reading my cd liner notes that Pergolesi died at 26, and this was possibly his last composition. Quite a finale. In the recording I have, a countertenor, Michael Chance, sings the alto which is extraordinary, and it was recorded at Church of St Jude-on-the-Hill, Hampstead (London) by The King’s Consort, who play period instruments. “Forty minutes of undiluted peace” said one of the Amazon reviewers.

    Off to dine with the relatives tonight, and I’m bringing dessert. Thank you Delia Smith (and my apple tree) for Baked Apple and Almond Pudding.

  • Next year in West Chester

    I have been looking with longing at the program for the 12th Annual West Chester University Poetry Conference: Exploring Form and Narrative. Among the offerings are workshops on rhyme with Dick Davis, meter with Timothy Steele, a master class with Mark Jarman, and a keynote address by James Fenton, who is also interviewed by Dana Gioia. Alas I can’t fit it in this year, but perhaps I can make the thirteenth edition next year. Never been to Pennsylvania…

    Back here on the Coast, I was minding my own business on Tuesday afternoon… well, to be truthful I was engaged in some anguished last minute edits of my poems for the final Form in Poetry class, when the phone rang and Peg said: so, we’ve just got some fresh crab, want to come over and help us eat it? I dithered for a number of seconds, remembering several ill-starred occasions under the sign of the crab back in my Edmonton days. Then I thought, well, maybe it was a passing thing. Maybe it was bad frozen crab crossed with too many libations. Maybe it was just time to give it another try. So I brought along a quiche lorraine for a back-up, but the crab was fresh and simple, boiled in salt water, needing nothing but a nice bit of french bread and salad. And it went well with gin! The best news was that I suffered no ill-effects at all, so that strikes off the only food I’ve ever believed I was allergic, or at least intolerant to. I am grateful.

  • Luminous shards

    There is a word that has filtered into the collective consciousness of British poets, as memorably discussed in Peter Sansom’s enduring how-to text, Writing Poems, which first appeared in 1994, in a discussion about poetry clichés:

    “Writers use them to try and lift flagging poems — hoping they will inject…emotional resonance. They do the reverse.”

    He quotes Pound saying “one of poetry’s functions is to ‘keep the tools clean’… Using poetry clichés ultimately blunts the tools.”

    His overtaxed word of choice is “shards”, one that I think is scarce in Canadian poetry. But I would like to nominate the word “luminous” for this decade’s hit list, a word which seems to be shining rather too brightly out of every other poem – particularly American ones – I’ve read in the last year. It’s a bit too… *poetic* to resist calling attention to itself; the poems I’ve seen it in seem to lean rather hard on it, and now I wince when I see it. It does appear a lot in reviews as well. A shame, as it’s a nice word. But it’s getting tired. Let’s give it a rest shall we? Anyone have a nomination for Canada’s most worn-out poetry word?

    Rice is a fine word, one that can never be over-used in my cookbooks. And Kheer is one of my favourite desserts, a richer, runnier version of rice pudding, fragrant with cardamom, so good I have been known to eat it for breakfast. In my version, you forget the rosewater; substitute 2 percent / semi-skimmed milk for all or most of the cream; and add a third of a cup of golden raisins to the milk mixture when you add the rice.

Book cover of Rhona McAdam's book Larder with still life painting of lemons and lemon branches with blossoms in a ceramic bowl. One of the lemons has a beed on it.

“…A beautiful, filling collection, Larder is a set of poems to read at the change of the seasons, to appreciate alongside a good meal, and to remind yourself of the beauty in everything, even the things you may not appreciate before opening McAdam’s collection….”

Alison Manley

Rhona McAdam is a writer, poet, editor, and Registered Holistic Nutritionist with a Master’s in Food Culture from Italy and a deep-rooted passion for ecology and urban agriculture. Her work spans corporate and technical writing to poetry and creative nonfiction, often exploring the vital links between what we eat and how we live. Based in Victoria, BC, and available via Zoom, Rhona is always open to new writing commissions, readings, or workshops on nutrition and the culinary arts.