Tudor Robins's Blog

I had a better photo than this one — a photo where the sunset colours were more vivid. But it didn’t have my dog’s tail in it. And that, after all, was what made the evening perfect. The presence of my dog (for those of you who don’t know her, Cara is a potcake, from Barbados, who looks like a lean Jack Russell, but with a longish body and a disproportionately long tail — which, of course, we love).

There was another dog with us — Cara’s friend, Storm. He’s a Great Pyrenees — also known as a livestock guardian dog — except, unfortunately, the only livestock his family owns is chickens, and he thinks the chickens are more for eating than for guarding. He and Cara get along, though (he’s never tried to eat her, and she appreciates that).

I was walking with my friend, Linda, who is an amazingly talented photographer. It was because of Linda that we were out for a walk at sunset. Usually by the end of the day on the island I’m wiped. We work really hard outside. This particular week I was painting the cottage. The entire cottage. So, once dinner is over, I’m usually pretty happy to just stick around home. Linda asked if we wanted to walk, though, so to Cara’s confusion, I rallied the energy I had left and we walked.

It was also because of Linda that I have photographs to share. Just as I imagine how everything around me could become a story, Linda sees everything as a potential photograph. She would tell you she sees the best ones when she doesn’t have her camera with her. This night the sunset was beautiful … and she didn’t have her camera. We both had phones, though, so she did a great job, and I did a job that was good enough for me, at capturing the scenery.

I have quite a few more photos from the tail end of summer. I’ll share them with you in my next post.

My last post was about gifts … and always, always, always my biggest gift is the time I spend with my kids.

Any time is good, but on a blanket, on a hill, at a free outdoor concert, is especially great.

This is Peterborough FolkFest, and these are the things I liked best about going this year:
- The drive with my son - three hours along Hwy. 7 which, in a “two things can be true” moment is both one of the most beautiful drives imaginable, and very dangerous. People cross the centre line regularly, accidents are frequent (often fatal), and we were reminded of this when we entered the particularly bad zone where there are no passing lanes and little cell service, only to come up on the tail end of a bunch of stopped cars. An accident, we figured (although we couldn’t see the front of the line). However, no cars coming the other direction helped us figure out that the road was completely closed, and a tow truck, then an ambulance driving past us in what would normally be the oncoming traffic lane confirmed bad news. We scrolled the windows down, turned off the engine, and in another instance of two things being true, found it strange and lovely to be stopped on that road with heat rising off the asphalt and crickets sawing in the background.
- Picking up my favourite quesadilla in the world from my favourite take-out place. The guy who works there — such long hours to feed drunken people stumbling in late into the night — was wearing dark glasses. He told us he had a cornea transplant and can see for the first time in years. Another patron shared his own story of having his teeth completely reconstructed after losing all of them during his struggles with addiction. They were happy stories, but maybe we were too focused on them, because when we got to my daughter’s place, there were two burritos in the bag, but not a quesadilla in sight. I had to go back, where my cornea transplant friend opened the oven to show me a completely blackened quesadilla which he had forgotten to give me. It was fine — he made me a new one! And he can see! And the other gentleman has beautiful teeth!
- Running with my son in the morning — this is something we’ve been doing all summer. We’ve run in Ottawa, and on Wolfe Island, but running in Peterborough was new for him. Peterborough is a walker’s / runner’s / cyclist’s paradise and it was fun to show him the running trails.
- Swimming! In the Otonabee River! I’m a sucker for swimming in general, but I particularly love rivers, and the Otonabee is a gem. Just the right temperature — cool when you jump in, but warm enough to stay in for ages. My daughter’s university (and, in fact, the entire city of Peterborough) is defined by being either “East Bank” or “West Bank” of the Otonabee. The university has buildings on either side, with a pedestrian bridge spanning the river, and there are steps from the library and one of the residences that lead right into the river. Canoeing, kayaking, rowing, and swimming are very popular, and we had a refreshing swim between running and heading to FolkFest. We were far too busy swimming to take photos (plus, we were wet).
- FolkFest itself — of course this was fun. We can walk from my daughter’s apartment, which is fantastic. There are always fun vendors and good food. All the food is served on reusable dishes which are washed by volunteers and handed out to the vendors. Otonabee Apiaries was selling honey lemonade (which turned out to also have lime in it) — delicious. The big draw this year was Joel Plaskett. If you’re not sure if you know him, you probably know “Nowhere With You” (if not, you should listen - you’ll be humming it all day!). He also had a 2009 album called Three with song titles like “Through & Through & Through” which, just possibly, has been influencing my blog post titles. We were all a little relieved to find out Joel Plaskett was on at 6:30. This meant we could catch his set, walk home while the sun set, drive out to Dairy Queen, and sit on the stone wall outside my daughter’s apartment eating Blizzards, feeling the warmth of the day’s sun soak through our shorts, and listening to the cicadas. And we could still be in bed before 11:00 p.m. — bonus!

FolkFest has been our tradition for three years but my daughter may not be in Peterborough next year. Perhaps next year we’ll find ourselves somewhere else on the middle weekend of August. If so, that’s OK. We’ve loved FolkFest, we’ve made a point of enjoying all it has to offer. I’m sure we’ll go back some day, but as long as I have my kids (and, hopefully, a river to swim in) I’ll consider it a good summer weekend.

My last post was about gifts … and always, always, always my biggest gift is the time I spend with my kids.

Any time is good, but on a blanket, on a hill, at a free outdoor concert, is especially great.

This is Peterborough FolkFest, and these are the things I liked best about going this year:
- The drive with my son - three hours along Hwy. 7 which, in a “two things can be true” moment is both one of the most beautiful drives imaginable, and very dangerous. People cross the centre line regularly, accidents are frequent (often fatal), and we were reminded of this when we entered the particularly bad zone where there are no passing lanes and little cell service, only to come up on the tail end of a bunch of stopped cars. An accident, we figured (although we couldn’t see the front of the line). However, no cars coming the other direction helped us figure out that the road was completely closed, and a tow truck, then an ambulance driving past us in what would normally be the oncoming traffic lane confirmed bad news. We scrolled the windows down, turned off the engine, and in another instance of two things being true, found it strange and lovely to be stopped on that road with heat rising off the asphalt and crickets sawing in the background.
- Picking up my favourite quesadilla in the world from my favourite take-out place. The guy who works there — such long hours to feed drunken people stumbling in late into the night — was wearing dark glasses. He told us he had a cornea transplant and can see for the first time in years. Another patron shared his own story of having his teeth completely reconstructed after losing all of them during his struggles with addiction. They were happy stories, but maybe we were too focused on them, because when we got to my daughter’s place, there were two burritos in the bag, but not a quesadilla in sight. I had to go back, where my cornea transplant friend opened the oven to show me a completely blackened quesadilla which he had forgotten to give me. It was fine — he made me a new one! And he can see! And the other gentleman has beautiful teeth!
- Running with my son in the morning — this is something we’ve been doing all summer. We’ve run in Ottawa, and on Wolfe Island, but running in Peterborough was new for him. Peterborough is a walker’s / runner’s / cyclist’s paradise and it was fun to show him the running trails.
- Swimming! In the Otonabee River! I’m a sucker for swimming in general, but I particularly love rivers, and the Otonabee is a gem. Just the right temperature — cool when you jump in, but warm enough to stay in for ages. My daughter’s university (and, in fact, the entire city of Peterborough) is defined by being either “East Bank” or “West Bank” of the Otonabee. The university has buildings on either side, with a pedestrian bridge spanning the river, and there are steps from the library and one of the residences that lead right into the river. Canoeing, kayaking, rowing, and swimming are very popular, and we had a refreshing swim between running and heading to FolkFest. We were far too busy swimming to take photos (plus, we were wet).
- FolkFest itself — of course this was fun. We can walk from my daughter’s apartment, which is fantastic. There are always fun vendors and good food. All the food is served on reusable dishes which are washed by volunteers and handed out to the vendors. Otonabee Apiaries was selling honey lemonade (which turned out to also have lime in it) — delicious. The big draw this year was Joel Plaskett. If you’re not sure if you know him, you probably know “Nowhere With You” (if not, you should listen - you’ll be humming it all day!). He also had a 2009 album called Three with song titles like “Through & Through & Through” which, just possibly, has been influencing my blog post titles. We were all a little relieved to find out Joel Plaskett was on at 6:30. This meant we could catch his set, walk home while the sun set, drive out to Dairy Queen, and sit on the stone wall outside my daughter’s apartment eating Blizzards, feeling the warmth of the day’s sun soak through our shorts, and listening to the cicadas. And we could still be in bed before 11:00 p.m. — bonus!

FolkFest has been our tradition for three years but my daughter may not be in Peterborough next year. Perhaps next year we’ll find ourselves somewhere else on the middle weekend of August. If so, that’s OK. We’ve loved FolkFest, we’ve made a point of enjoying all it has to offer. I’m sure we’ll go back some day, but as long as I have my kids (and, hopefully, a river to swim in) I’ll consider it a good summer weekend.

Last week was my birthday. I love my birthday. I love the month — August, when the cicadas buzz to life. Anything else sawing that long and loud in the background would be enough to drive you crazy, but the cicadas are just a lovely reminder that, “Hey, you! You’re in full summer — are you remembering to enjoy it?”

August brings hot, sunny days and cool, meant-for-sleeping nights. August is for cottages and camping. Festivals and public swimming. Reading those books you stocked up on as “summer reads” and listening to podcasts on roadtrips.

I also love the actual numbers of my birthday. August 11. Or, 08-11. I don’t know why, but they’re very pleasing to me.

On August 11 I went to the island.

Just me and the dog, riding the ferry, throwing windows open in the stifling cottage. Sleeping with no covers and the ceiling fan on high (sadly, it was not a meant-for-sleeping cool night).

At my stage in life, the world doesn’t stop for my birthday, but I can sometimes manage to get in a change of scenery. This year I could, so I did.

I still worked, and I still did household chores, but at the end of a hot day — after my last Teams meeting — I was able to invite friends over for a swim.

I walked up the long, hot driveway to meet them — a friend my age, her son, and their dog (my dog’s friend!). Her son rolled down the window and said, “Hey, we’re just going along here for a swim, you wanna come?”

That was the first gift — hopping into the back of his truck, feeling like I was on an adventure. Carrying my dog, wearing my bathing suit, going for a swim (even though it was at my own waterfront).

Just before we waded into the river — the humans diving under, the big dog standing belly-deep with a doggy grin on his face, and the small dog supervising from a boulder on shore — my friend handed me an egg carton. “Here,” she said. “They’re not washed. A couple were laid today.” (Later, when she found out it was my birthday week, she said, “The eggs are a belated birthday gift.”)

I thanked her quickly and ran to put them in the kitchen, but the main focus was the river, so the eggs went to the back of my mind.

Until I waved them goodbye, wrapped a towel around myself, went back inside, and opened the carton.

They’re beautiful, right? Those blues and browns, and the way they sit beside each other? So gorgeous. I wish I could capture those colours and put them in my house, but they work best in their natural state.

It was hard to think of using them — of breaking them — but it was worse to think of not. Because, just like so many beautiful things, they won’t last forever and they would stop being beautiful or useful after a time.

So, I took pictures, then prepared my kitchen. Pulling out other great ingredients — getting ready to cook. I roasted diced potatoes and sauteed spinach and mushrooms and I made two six-egg frittatas to feed my family.

And so the gift of an invitation led to the gift of the eggs, which led to the gift of good food.

Gifts & gifts & gifts — they’re everywhere if you just pay attention.

Frequency illusion. Also known as Baader–Meinhof phenomenon (a free copy of one of my ebooks goes to any reader who knows which of my books features Baader–Meinhof phenomenon).

Frequency illusion is a cognitive bias in which a person notices a specific concept, word, or product more frequently after recently becoming aware of it.

I don't know if my notice of the above quote was a case of frequency illusion, or if it was just my good luck to read it (although the reason this quote has been circulated recently is a sad one - namely the death of the poet who wrote it).

The fact is, I've been contemplating quitting social media. To a certain extent, I've been thinking of quitting since the moment I opened my accounts ... but the impulse has been much stronger lately, for a number of reasons:

- Scrolling social media really does waste my time - time I could be spending writing. So there's that.

- The particular accounts I want to quit are Meta accounts - for the sake of brevity, let's just call Meta "problematic" - essentially, I'm not sad at the thought of detaching from them.

- It's such a heavy time for so many people, groups, and countries right now - and while I do think it's important to follow and understand the news, I want to do that in a responsible way. By reading reputable, fact-checked sources. By avoiding the biased (and often untrue) clickbait that gets posted on social media.

The most important reason, though, is the lack of civility and kindness I've been increasingly seeing. I used to be fairly successful at avoiding this by being careful about who I follow and what I read ... but it's really spilled over. The final straw was the "Ferry update" group I joined to get information about the Wolfe Island ferry. What should be an information-based, non-confrontational group is regularly laced with insult-slinging - people being told they're "not real Islanders" or to "shut up." That group has affected the way I see other people in my community, and not in a good way.

The bottom line is I've been feeling more strongly that it's time to cut ties. I've had to overcome my own objections of "I need the information" and "I need an author presence." The first one is easy - unfortunately, I'm no longer able to get clear, factual, conflict-free information from social media. My return to school made the second one simpler too - I haven't been nurturing my author presence on social media ... and things have been just fine.

Then I saw the above quote and something clicked. Because, really, it's just that simple. How do I want to be spending my time and energy? I want my attention to be on the people and things I love, rather than going down rabbit holes reading about people who don't love the people and things I do (and probably wouldn't like me much if they knew me).

What's the point of this message? Well, there are three:

1) Words have so much power. They have the power to hurt and harm (and I'm seeing too many of those words on social media), and they have the power to inspire and change (which is what Andrea Gibson's words did for me). I'll be writing more about words and their power in future newsletter and on my blog.

2) I want to stay in touch with all of you! As long as you're on my newsletter list, we'll be connected. I'm also spending time on Pinterest. Maybe I'll see you there?

3) And my main point - I'd love to hear about your experience with words that have pushed or pulled you to do something. A saying you have pinned on a bulletin board where you can see it, or scribbled somewhere important. Words you repeat to yourself. I'd love it if you'd share with me!

We're partway through August - for most of you this is summer - I hope you're enjoying it, spending time with the people you want to. I hope you're able to have your attention on loving.

In Episode 11 of the Appaloosa Summer podcast audiobook, narrated by author Tudor Robins, Meg takes Salem to her first horse show.

In Episode 10 of the Appaloosa Summer podcast audiobook, narrated by author Tudor Robins, Meg turns seventeen ... and her relationship with Jared turns into more than friends.

In Episode 9 of the Appaloosa Summer podcast audiobook, narrated by author Tudor Robins, Meg supports Jared through a trauma, but how will she feel about jumping Salem for the first time since her accident on Major?

In Episode 8 of the Appaloosa Summer podcast audiobook, narrated by author Tudor Robins, Meg and Jared get closer and closer.

In Episode 7 of the Appaloosa Summer podcast audiobook, narrated by author Tudor Robins, Meg learns more about Salem ... as well as about Jared and his family.