Blog:  Ink Blots on Winestains

Sunday
Jan042026

The Evolving Tree of Life

The last Christmas tree we put up this year is the one we call The Tree of Life.

Its ornaments are an unruly, beautiful mix: souvenirs gathered on our travels, handmade treasures, and gifts that arrived with stories attached.

At the heart of it all are the ornaments from a Boxing Day long ago, when I threw a surprise birthday party for Stan. (His birthday is in February, which ensured the surprise element.) I asked each guest to bring an ornament that reminded them of Stan – or that would remind him of them. What came out of that idea was nothing short of magic. Those ornaments became the soul of this tree, each one a small, sparkling witness to friendship and love.

We put the Tree of Life up only days before Christmas, not out of procrastination, but intention. We waited for Ben and Georgia.

 

Back in 2008, when they were young kids, they and their mother Tammy insisted on helping me decorate the tree after my gallbladder surgery. They worried I’d overdo it on my own – and they weren’t wrong.

 

What followed was laughter, tangled lights, sharing ornament stories, and the kind of joy that sneaks up on you when you’re not looking. It turned into a tradition that carried on for seven years.

 

Time, as it does, moved things along. The kids grew up. Montreal beckoned. Last year, out of the blue, Ben called his mum to ask if I might “let” them decorate the tree again. The “kids” were young adults now, and yet here they were, wanting to come back to the Tree of Life.

I didn’t hesitate.

Last year was a gift. And when they asked if they could come again this year? That felt like something even rarer – proof that some traditions don’t fade. They deepen.

The Tree of Life isn’t about perfection or timing. It’s about people. And every year, it reminds me exactly how lucky we are in this life of ours.

 

Thursday
Dec182025

The Hint, the Heart, and the Handmade Gift

I had one of those experiences that feels like it could only begin at the One of a Kind Show. I went with my husband this year – already a seasonal miracle – and while Stan wasn’t quite prepared for the amount of walking, we quickly settled into a rhythm: one row together, one row with him happily parked somewhere, one row reunited… Somewhere on one of my solo circuits, I wandered into the Vintage section and promptly fell for m.goldfinger gifts – a treasure-trove of pieces upcycled from old tins. Wall hangings, ornaments, jewellery… each one with that whimsical “where did you come from” aura. I instantly zeroed in on a pair of earrings. Gorgeous. Ingenious. Retro-magical.

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Thursday
Dec182025

Of Snowmen, Sweets and Serendipity

That moment when a gift lands exactly where you hoped it would. I’ve been sharing my pre-loved Christmas decorations and paraphernalia this year. Some might call my collection excessive; I call it enthusiastic. When I unearthed a snowman mug, bowl, and plate set, I immediately thought of a friend with a young daughter. In my mind’s eye, I could already see it holding a treat for Santa on Christmas Eve, now that her little one is just the right age for that kind of magic.

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Tuesday
Dec022025

Stuart and the spell of the season

I miss Stuart McLean something fierce, especially in December. For years, a pilgrimage to his Vinyl Cafe Christmas show in Toronto was woven into the heart of my season.

It all began by accident. I’d gone to see the Vinyl Café show live when it visited St. Catharines and I was later raving about it over dinner with friends. Barb, our hostess that night, looked at me with a twinkle and said, “But have you ever been to the Christmas show?”

When I told her no, she lit up. Though she was Jewish, she had a soft spot for the emotion and wonder of Stuart’s holiday concert. She’d been going solo for years, comfortable in a theatre full of strangers who adored the same thing.

Right there at the table, we made a pact. That Christmas, we’d go together. And we did. Again and again. Convocation Hall, the Hummingbird, Massey Hall… each a stop on what became our private tradition. Among thousands of people, it always felt like we’d slipped into a small pocket of magic that belonged just to us.

I lost Barb before I was ready, and the Christmas shows ended before any of us were. But every time I hear the reprise of a Dave and Morley Christmas tale — or really any moment Stuart’s voice drifts back into my world — she’s right there at my elbow again. The memories carry that familiar bittersweet edge, the way the best ones often do. They still warm me. They still glow.

And every December, I find myself back in those halls with her, two friends in the dark, letting the lights of Stuart and the season work their simple, generous spell. 

 

  • If you crave Stuart's voice and Dave and Morley stories as I do, you probably already know about the "Backstage at the Vinyl Café" podcast with Jess Milton. Jess was the Vinyl Café's producer for many years, so is in the unique position to augment recordings of Stuart with her own backstage stories, personal memories and fascinating insights. https://apostrophepodcasts.ca/vinylcafe/ 

 

And a lovely little epilogue: thanks to the wine industry, I later had the unexpected treat of meeting Ted Dekker, whom I instantly recognised as one of Stuart’s Christmas show regulars. I’d watched him perform countless times, never imagining we’d eventually cross paths in my own corner of the world. Getting to know him better has felt like one more gentle thread tying past to present — a reminder that some stories keep echoing long after the curtain falls.

 

Friday
Nov282025

The 5H Origin Story

Looking back to where it all began

It started in a bustling aisle, with sore feet and a full heart. For the twenty-somethingth time, I was weaving my way through the One of a Kind Show in Toronto – my longstanding holiday ritual. I went for the same reasons I always did: to feel the buzz of creativity in the air, to see what clever new things people had dreamed up, to say hello to familiar makers and discover new ones. Some years I bought more, some years less. But I always came away instilled with the spirit of giving. 

That particular night, I came home happily tired, bags parked by the door, brain humming with colours, textures, and conversations.

The next morning, on my way to another handmade market – because of course one wasn’t enough – something clicked into place. Somewhere between brushing my teeth, grabbing my keys, and heading out the door, I realized the way I was thinking about gifts had changed. It wasn’t just what I was giving that mattered. It was how I was giving, and who was touched along the way.

I could see a pattern in the gifts that meant the most. They weren’t the biggest. They usually weren’t the most expensive. But they carried thought, story, and a sense of care that went far beyond the price tag.

By the time I was halfway to that second market, a simple idea had taken shape.
I called it my 5H Code of Giving.

Homemade. Handmade. Healthy. Helpful. From Here.

At first, it was just a private promise: from now on, my gifts needed to meet at least one of those Hs. Over time, that little personal code grew legs and wandered out into the world.


Homemade – made by you, with time, care, and intention

Homemade gifts were my first love.

They showed up as photo books and calendars I created to share my memories in print, or “IOU” cards for portraits and family photos that would be taken once the wrapping paper had settled. Sometimes they were jars of jam, tins of cookies, my famous spaghetti "kit", or a handwritten promise of “lasagna delivery” in February, when everyone’s energy (and inspiration) runs low.

Homemade isn’t about perfection. It’s about saying, “I thought of you while I stirred, stitched, edited, baked.” It’s time, turned into something you can hold.


Handmade – created by someone’s hands, heart, and skill

If Homemade is “I made this for you,” then Handmade is “They made this for you, and I wanted to support their craft and delight you.”

This is where markets sing. Wheel-thrown mugs with thumb-print dimples. A linen tea towel stitched by a local textile artist. A small-batch candle poured by someone who knows their way around wax and wick. Creativity that wows.

Handmade gifts carry two stories at once – the maker’s and the giver’s. When you choose Handmade, you’re not just crossing someone off a list; you’re helping keep a creative practice alive.


Healthy – nourishing for people and the planet

Healthy arrived next, as I noticed how many thoughtful gifts were really about well-being.

Sometimes Healthy looks like self-care: gifts that say, “You matter too.” A soft pair of lounging socks and a good novel. A journal and pen for self-learning. A bath soak, a face mask, or a voucher for a massage. Even a simple “rest kit” – tea, a candle, and explicit permission to disappear under a blanket for an afternoon.

Sometimes it’s movement – a yoga pass, a walking date, a pair of mitts tucked around a thermos of hot chocolate and instructions for “one January walk together.”

And sometimes Healthy is about the planet: gifts made from reclaimed materials, sustainably produced goods, or simply less stuff and more experience. Healthy gifts ask, “Will this nourish someone – body, mind, or world?”


Helpful – a service, skill, or support that makes life easier

Helpful slid into place when I realized how often the most appreciated gifts weren’t really “for” the recipient alone – they were for the wider world, too.

Sometimes Helpful looks like giving in someone’s name: a donation to a charity they care about, school supplies through a global aid organization, a contribution to a local shelter, literacy program, or food bank. It’s a way of saying, “I see what matters to you, and I want to help move that forward.”

Helpful can also mean choosing makers and businesses who build generosity into their work – artists who donate a portion of their sales, social enterprises that employ people facing barriers, products that fund clean water, mental health supports, or community programs. Your purchase becomes a small act of solidarity as well as a gift.

And yes, Helpful is still the hands-on stuff: promissory notes for snow shovelling, untangling a photo library, child-minding so tired parents can have an evening out, or offering rides and errands when someone is overwhelmed.

Helpful gifts say, in one way or another, “Let me lighten the load – for you, and for someone else who needs it.”


From Here – rooted in your own community and local economy

The last H, From Here, is where my Niagara heart really dug in, but of course, "here" is your "here," whereever that may be.

I’d already seen how much impact it makes when people choose local – whether it’s VQA wine, books by local authors, tickets to nearby theatre and concerts, or shopping trips to locally-owned stores. Every time we buy from here, we keep money, energy, and possibility circling close to home.

From Here might be a bottle from a nearby winery or craft brewery, a piece by a local potter, passes to a regional gallery, or a gift card to that local restaurant. These are often the same businesses that hire local students, sponsor kids’ teams, donate auction prizes, and quietly show up when your neighbours need help.


Thirteen years on…

What began as a “it's cool they all begin with the same letter” musing has turned into a lifelong filter.

The 5H Code has guided my holidays, birthdays, thank-yous, and “just because” surprises ever since. It’s helped me spend more thoughtfully, shop more locally, and feel better about what I’m putting into the world – one small, human-scaled gift at a time. Used as a filter, it's actually lightened my holiday shopping load! 

And here’s something I was gratefully reminded of recently: you don’t have to do it perfectly for it to matter. Some years, most of my gifts hit one or more of the Hs, but not always all, and that’s all right. 5H Giving was never meant to be another impossible standard. This time of year comes with too many of those already.

You don’t have to do it all to make a difference. Even one Homemade card, one Handmade gift, one Healthy act of self-care, one Helpful donation, one purchase From Here can shift the way giving feels – for you, for the recipient, and for the community around you.

Now, 5H isn’t just my personal checklist. It’s an open invitation:

To give in ways that are:

  • made by you, with care
  • crafted by real hands
  • nourishing for people and the planet
  • genuinely helpful
  • rooted in the places you call home

That’s how it started. That’s still what it’s about.

Five little Hs, steadily changing how we give – and how it feels to do it.

 

My original origin story, written in the moment 13 years ago, is here.

The adorable drawings to illustrate the Hs were a kind gift from Laura Wills, Messenger