Rebecca's Reading Room

S6 E22: Dictionary of a Life: “Ubiquitous”Welcome to Rebecca’s Reading Room. Thank you for listening in!Some words describe objects. Others describe ideas. But every so often we discover a word that helps us understand our own lives.Today’s word is ubiquitous.There was a time when ATM machines were a novelty. Many people wondered if they would ever catch on. Today, we hardly notice them at all. They’ve become part of the landscape of everyday life.That simple observation led me to reflect on a question: How do extraordinary ideas become ordinary?In this episode, we’ll explore the journey from skepticism to acceptance, and from acceptance to something so familiar that we almost forget it was ever new. Along the way, we’ll discover how one small word can change the way we think about technology, creativity, culture, and even ourselves.I’m Rebecca Budd, and I’m so glad you’ve joined me.Until the next word…🎙️Rebecca’s Reading Room PodcastMusic by Epidemic Sound“For All We Know” by More than Familyhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/8082dacc-d3a1-3470-977b-970879a925bc/

S6 E21: Winged Victory: Storytelling Across TimeWelcome to Rebecca’s Reading Room. I’m your host, Rebecca Budd, and I look forward to sharing this moment with you.A few months ago, while visiting the Louvre Museum in Paris, I found myself standing before one of the most unforgettable sculptures in the world: The Winged Victory of Samothrace. With her wings spread wide and her garments flowing as though touched by sea wind, she seemed at once ancient and astonishingly alive.But beyond the beauty of marble and artistry, I found myself thinking about something deeper: the stories we carry, the stories we inherit, and the stories that help us remember what it means to be human.Today, I invite you to join me as we reflect on Winged Victory not simply as a masterpiece of art, but as a story in stone, one that has travelled across centuries to speak to us still.Pour yourself a cup of tea, settle in, and let us step for a few moments into a story that has outlived empires.Rebecca🎙️Rebecca’s Reading Room PodcastLocation: The Lourvre Museum, ParisPhotography & Voice: Rebecca BuddMusic: Edgar Hopp “Eyes of Yours” Epidemic Soundhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/ef6c8b56-fdb6-44ca-80d8-0a94d43215a8/

S6 E 20: Desiderata by Max EhrmannSome poems ask us to think. Others ask us to feel. A very few become lifelong companions.Desiderata, written by Max Ehrmann in 1927, is one of those enduring works. Its quiet wisdom has been shared across generations, offering gentle reminders about peace, kindness, humility, courage, and hope. In a world that often seems hurried and uncertain, these words continue to invite us to slow down and remember what truly matters.Today, I would like to share a simple recitation of this beloved poem. Rather than analysing its meaning, I invite you simply to listen. Perhaps a line will speak to you differently than it has before. Perhaps you will hear something you need today.The photographs accompanying this reading were taken during a walk through Beacon Hill Park in Victoria, British Columbia—a place whose quiet beauty seemed a fitting companion to Ehrmann’s timeless words.Thank you for spending these few moments in Rebecca’s Reading Room.RebeccaDesiderate by Max EhrmannGo placidly amid the noise and haste,and remember what peace there may be in silence.As far as possible without surrenderbe on good terms with all persons.Speak your truth quietly and clearly;and listen to others,even the dull and the ignorant;they too have their story.Avoid loud and aggressive persons,they are vexations to the spirit.If you compare yourself with others,you may become vain and bitter;for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.Keep interested in your own career, however humble;it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.Exercise caution in your business affairs;for the world is full of trickery.But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;many persons strive for high ideals;and everywhere life is full of heroism.Be yourself.Especially, do not feign affection.Neither be cynical about love;for in the face of all aridity and disenchantmentit is as perennial as the grass.Take kindly the counsel of the years,gracefully surrendering the things of youth.Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.Beyond a wholesome discipline,be gentle with yourself.You are a child of the universe,no less than the trees and the stars;you have a right to be here.And whether or not it is clear to you,no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.Therefore be at peace with God,whatever you conceive Him to be,and whatever your labors and aspirations,in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,it is still a beautiful world.Be cheerful.Strive to be happy.Photography by Rebecca BuddLocation Beacon Hill Park, Victoria, British ColumbiaMusic by Epidemic SoundYonder Dale "We Carry On" https://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/5ebe8dfb-5a21-307a-84e7-a8ed973dacee/

S6 E19: At the Lake: Reflections on ReadingWelcome to Rebecca’s Reading Room.During a recent retreat on Vancouver Island, I spent time walking beside a quiet lake. As I walked, I began reflecting on books, reading, and the increasingly rare experience of slowing down long enough to truly live with a book.This video combines those reflections with footage from the lake itself.At the Lake: A Book Meditation is not a book review or a reading list. It is a gentle meditation on reading as companionship, reflection, and lifelong discovery. I hope you’ll find a comfortable place to sit, perhaps with a cup of tea nearby, and spend a few moments beside the water with me.Thank you for visiting Rebecca’s Reading Room, Rebecca🎙️ Rebecca’s Reading Room Podcast📚 Rebecca’s Reading RoomMusic by Epidemic Sound“Kasuga Rain” by Candelion https://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/8d672430-a97e-47c4-9b24-e7c736879945/“Never a Goodbye” by Gavin Luke. https://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/23d78dc4-1dce-48cd-a10a-9bded0529d84/

The Stories We Tell in PhotographsWelcome to Rebecca’s Reading Room. I’m Rebecca Budd, and I’m delighted you’ve joined me.I recently read an article by Thomas Germain for the BBC that explored how modern smartphones now edit photographs automatically using artificial intelligence, adjusting light, colour, and clarity before we ever see the image. The article asks whether this changes our sense of reality.As I reflected on that idea, I found myself asking a different question altogether.How has photography changed the way we tell the story of our lives?Previous generations filled boxes with letters and journals. Today, many of us fill hard drives and cloud storage with photographs. Yet both are expressions of the same deeply human desire:“I was here. This mattered. Let me share it with you.”So, pour yourself a cup of tea, settle into a comfortable chair, and join me as we explore The Story We Tell in Photographs.Rebecca🎙️Rebecca‘s Reading Room podcastMusic by Epidemic Sound“For All We Know” by More than Familyhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/8082dacc-d3a1-3470-977b-970879a925bc/

S6 E17: Saturday Afternoon by Emily Dickinson Welcome.Today’s reading is Saturday Afternoon by Emily Dickinson.The images you will see were taken at Park & Tilford Gardens — a special place where my mother, my sister Sarah, and I shared many happy Saturday afternoons.Emily Dickinson’s poem celebrates youthful joy and freedom. For me, it is also a remembrance of love, family, and moments that continue to bloom in memory.I hope you enjoy this reading.Saturday Afternoon From all the jails the boys and girlsEcstatically leap,—Beloved, only afternoonThat prison does n't keep.They storm the earth and stun the air,A mob of solid bliss.Alas! that frowns could lie in waitFor such a foe as this!📚Rebecca’s Reading Room🎙️Rebecca’s Reading Room PodcastPhotography by Rebecca BuddMusic by Epidemic Sound“Sylarna” by Strömhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/69982e98-a358-3eb4-b6ea-a9faf617734e/

S6 E16: Lochinvar: A Ride Into LegendToday’s feature is Lochinvar by Sir Walter Scott, recited by writer and poet Paul Andruss.This beloved classic takes us back into the legends of the past, where courage, love, and risk move at full gallop.Great stories allow us to step into other times and live other lives for a while.Thank you for listening in! Until the next poem,Rebecca📚Rebecca’s Reading RoomMusic by Epidemic Sound“Reunited We'll Prevail” by Kikoru https://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/5824d377-b2bd-31e7-b8f5-f098dbe3b514/“Never a Goodbye” by Gavin Lukehttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/23d78dc4-1dce-48cd-a10a-9bded0529d84/“The Bard's Tale” Christoffer Moe Ditlevsenhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/443f9e43-c88a-4fb0-8728-5345837b643f/“The Fellowship” Christoffer Moe Ditlevsenhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/2b47cb34-005e-4186-8631-4c4841115e72/“The Portal” Bonnie Gracehttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/6adf42f0-177c-38cf-94db-26d212fedb9d/

S6 E15: The Moon is distant from the Sea # 387 by Emily DickinsonWelcome to Rebecca’s Reading Room.Today I’m sharing a poem by Emily Dickinson titled “The Moon is distant from the Sea.” Dickinson had a remarkable ability to take something from the natural world and transform it into a meditation on human feeling.In this poem, the moon draws the sea toward the shore, not by force, but through a quiet and constant influence. Dickinson turns this simple movement of the tides into a reflection on devotion, distance, and the mysterious pull one soul can have upon another.Here is “The Moon is distant from the Sea.”The Moon is distant from the Sea –And yet, with Amber Hands –She leads Him – docile as a Boy –Along appointed Sands –He never misses a Degree –Obedient to Her eye –He comes just so far – toward the Town –Just so far – goes away –Oh, Signor, Thine, the Amber Hand –And mine – the distant Sea –Obedient to the least commandThine eye impose on me –Thank you for joining me in my Reading Room,RebeccaMusic by Epidemic Sound"Mirror Of The Heart" by Bladverk Bandhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/track/VOXd2j85h3/

S6 E14: The Drowsy World Dreams On by Walter Everette HawkinsWelcome to Rebecca’s Reading Room.Today’s reflection began during a quiet walk through the campus of Simon Fraser University. I paused at the Trottier Observatory, surrounded by maps of the stars and the turning seasons, while students passed by on their way to class.In that moment, I was carried back to my own university days and reminded of how quickly time moves, and how easily life’s tender moments can pass unnoticed.From that experience came the memory of a beautiful poem by Walter Everette Hawkins, The Drowsy World Dreams On—a gentle meditation on beauty, passing time, and the importance of remaining awake to the gifts of the present moment.Thank you for joining me in the Reading Room.Rebecca📚Rebecca’s Reading RoomThe Drowsy World Dreams On by Walter Everette HawkinsA flower bloomed out on a woodland hill,A song rose up from the woodland rill;But the floweret bloomed but to wither away,And no man heard what the stream had to say, For the drowsy world dreamed on.Thro the frills of a curtain a moonbeam crept,Till it fell on the crib where a nursling slept;And a whisper and smile lit a wee dimpled face,But none save the angels their beauty could trace, For the drowsy world dreamed on.A wee bird piped out mid the corn,A rose bloomed out beneath the thorn;But the scent of the rose and the birdling’s layOn the winds of the morning were wafted away While the drowsy world dreamed on.And the drowsy old world’s growing gloomy and gray,While the joys that are sweetest are passing away;And the charms that inspire like the picture of dawnAre but playthings of Time—they gleam and are gone, While the drowsy world dreams on. Photography and Recitation by Rebecca BuddMusic by Epidemic Sound“One Voice” Johannes Bornlöfhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/c81da105-dd17-4aba-b43d-ca2a6df2f434/Location: Simon Fraser University, Burnaby CampusNote: The last phrase “The Drowsy World Dreamed On” should be read “The Drowsy World Dreams On.”

S6 E13: Looking Up - A Garden Meditation at Park & Tilford Gardens, North VancouverWelcome to Garden Meditations, a quiet series from Rebecca’s Reading Room. In this reflection, filmed at Park & Tilford Gardens in North Vancouver, I invite you to pause and look up.Beneath a canopy of spring blossoms, this moment becomes a gentle reminder that not all growth is visible at eye level. Sometimes, we need only lift our gaze to notice the quiet unfolding of life around us and within us. This meditation is an invitation to slow down, to step out of urgency, and to stand for a moment beneath something larger than ourselves.Thank you for joining me in the garden.Rebecca🪴Garden Medition📚Rebecca’s Reading RoomMusic by Epidemic Sound“Try Your Wings” Helmut Schenkerhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/95c9c0a7-9e3a-4375-9f94-f859380b8254/

S6 E12: Walking Toward What Must Be | A Reflection on Rodin’s Burghers of CalaisFilmed in the garden of the Musée Rodin in Paris, this short meditation reflects on The Burghers of Calais by Auguste Rodin.Rather than focusing on history alone, this piece explores a quiet but powerful moment — the walk toward what feels inevitable.There is no despair in these figures. Only acknowledgment. Each man carries his fate differently. And in doing so, they invite us to consider how we meet the difficult paths in our own lives. This is not a story of rescue. It is a reflection on dignity.Rebecca📚Created for ChasingART Blog🇫🇷Filmed in ParisReflection by Rebecca BuddMusic by Epidemic Sound“Some Chords” by Gavin Luke https://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/cd5745c7-421a-4a34-ac8d-8ce1e22ca578/

S6 E11:: Up in the Air: A Poem, a Mother, a MemoryThe Swingby Robert Louis StevensonHow do you like to go up in a swing,Up in the air so blue?Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thingEver a child can do!Up in the air and over the wall,Till I can see so wide,Rivers and trees and cattle and allOver the countryside—Till I look down on the garden green,Down on the roof so brown—Up in the air I go flying again,Up in the air and down!When I was a child, my mother Frances taught me “The Swing” by Robert Louis Stevenson. It was the first poem I ever memorized, the first one I spoke aloud to a listening room, the first time I learned that words could lift a child, quite literally, into the air. I recited it proudly, again and again. People clapped. I felt tall.What I didn’t yet understand was that something deeper was happening. My mother was not simply teaching me a poem. She was teaching me attention, rhythm, wonder. She was showing me that language could hold joy, that imagination could travel beyond walls, rooftops, and gardens — and that a child’s voice mattered.Now Frances lives in long-term care. Our conversations have changed, but our connection has not. She still speaks to me, sometimes in words, sometimes in presence, sometimes in memory. And poetry still stands between us, steady as ever.When I listen to this recording from a few years ago, I hear more than my own voice. I hear her encouragement. I hear the evenings when poetry was something shared, not explained. I hear the beginning of a lifelong love. This reposting is for her. For the mothers who read poems aloud. For the children who learn them by heart. For the way poetry keeps swinging, back and forth, across time.Thank you, Frances. You were my first mentor. You still are.RebeccaMusic by Epidemic SoundEternally Yours by David Celestehttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/895d4ff8-cdd6-3141-95d1-791d8159b82c/

S6 E9:The Power of Reading SpacesA reading room is a designated space in a home or public area specifically designed for reading and quiet contemplation. It typically contains comfortable seating, good lighting, and shelves for books.My definition of a reading room, however, is more expansive. Whenever I have a book in hand, I am in reading room. Taking a few minutes, in a busy day, to read gives me something to hold in my mind and provide a boost to continue on my daily tasks.Moments of literary respite offer a tranquil refuge within the chaotic rhythms of life, nurturing mind and spirit. Whether it is within the confines of a designated reading room or simply by holding a book in hand, the act of reading has the profound ability to rejuvenate and inspire us as we navigate through our daily responsibilities.Creating a personal reading room can provide a peaceful retreat for reading, studying, and relaxing. It can offer a quiet space away from the distractions of everyday life, allowing individuals to focus on reading without interruptions. Reading rooms can serve as a sanctuary for personal reflection, intellectual growth, and the enjoyment of literature.Several years ago, I created a virtual reading room to document my thoughts and discoveries from reading books and poetry. I find that virtual reading rooms can serve as personalized spaces for contemplation and creativity. Welcome to Rebecca’s Reading Room, my space for literary exploration and creative discourse. beloved books, acclaimed authors, revered poets, and other visionaries of the written word.Welcome!!Location: Victoria British ColumbiaMusic by Johannes Bornlöf "Our Deepest Secrets" Epidemic Sound https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/QKwU2sehdL/

S6 E10: Walking in Nature with Myra Viola WildsWelcome to Rebecca’s Reading Room. I’m Rebecca Budd, and this is a quiet moment from Rebecca’s Reading Room.A poem has a way of returning to us. Not always when we expect it, and never in quite the same way.Several years ago, I recorded this poem by Myra Viola Wilds while walking along a forest path. Recently, it found its way back to me—and I began to hear it differently.Wilds wrote these words after losing her eyesight, following years of work as a dressmaker. And yet, what she offers us is not loss, but clarity—a reminder that our thoughts are something we can shape, tend, and carry with care.If you are able, you might imagine yourself walking…or simply pause for a moment. And listen.ThoughtsWhat kind of thoughts now, do you carry In your travels day by dayAre they bright and lofty visions, Or neglected, gone astray? Matters not how great in fancy, Or what deeds of skill you’ve wrought; Man, though high may be his station, Is no better than his thoughts.Catch your thoughts and hold them tightly, Let each one an honor be;Purge them, scourge them, burnish brightly, Then in love set each one free.This poem is in the public domain.RebeccaMusic by Johannes Bornlöf “As I Dream” #EpidemicSoundhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/track/4cUBo6wPFR/

S6 E8: Forgiveness by John Greenleaf WhittierWelcome to Rebecca’s Reading Room.Today’s reading is a poem by the American poet John Greenleaf Whittier titled Forgiveness. I recorded this recitation while walking through a cemetery in Bath, England, a place where the quiet presence of history invites us to reflect on our shared human journey.Whittier’s poem reminds us that life is brief, that pride often weighs heavily on the heart, and that forgiveness can arrive in the most unexpected moments.I invite you to listen slowly, and perhaps allow these words to settle where they need to.Rebecca In his poem, Forgiveness, John Greenleaf Whittier shares his experience of having kindness answered with “foul wrong”.Forgivenessby John Greenleaf WhittierMy heart was heavy, for its trust had beenAbused, its kindness answered with foul wrong;So, turning gloomily from my fellow-men,One summer Sabbath day I strolled amongThe green mounds of the village burial-place;Where, pondering how all human love and hateFind one sad level; and how, soon or late,Wronged and wrongdoer, each with meekened face,And cold hands folded over a still heart,Pass the green threshold of our common grave,Whither all footsteps tend, whence none depart,Awed for myself, and pitying my race,Our common sorrow, like a mighty wave,Swept all my pride away, and trembling I forgave!Who was John Greenleaf Whittier?John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) was an American poet and abolitionist. He was born in Haverhill, Massachusetts, and grew up in a Quaker family. Whittier’s poetry focused on various themes, including nature, love, and social justice.Whittier gained recognition for his advocacy against slavery. His anti-slavery poems and writings played a significant role in shaping public opinion and raising awareness about the injustices of slavery during the mid-19th century. He was an active supporter of the abolitionist movement and worked closely with prominent activists such as Frederick Douglass and Harriet Beecher Stowe.Whittier’s writings and activism made a lasting impact on American literature and the fight for social justice. His commitment to equality and his eloquent verse continue to inspire readers today.St. James CemeterySt James Cemetery, located in Bath, United Kingdom, has a rich history spanning several centuries.  Over the years, St James Cemetery has continued to be a place of remembrance and tranquility. The burial ground offers a serene atmosphere, inviting visitors to explore the paths lined with gravestones that bear witness to the history of Bath and its inhabitants.Photography and Voice by Rebecca BuddMusic by Epidemic Sound Gavin Luke “Greater Than You Or I” https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/PZ8SYBCM0D/

S6 E7: Welcome April with the reading of poetry.April is National Poetry Month! Spring, with its renewed energy after a Winter’s rest, awakens our hearts to the words of poetic inspiration.Poetry is one of the oldest creative endeavors – an art form that has the benefit of diversity. Haiku, sonnet, spoken word, epic, limerick, ode and so much more. Each generation adds to the collection that has come through the centuries.With poetry, we explore our innermost thoughts, feelings and impulses. We experience the world around us through vivid descriptions and the sound of words reverberating within our souls.Join me as I recite the poem “In April” by Rainer Maria RilkeIn April by Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)Again the woods are odorous, the larkLifts on upsoaring wings the heaven grayThat hung above the tree-tops, veiled and dark,Where branches bare disclosed the empty day.After long rainy afternoons an hour Comes with its shafts of golden light and flingsThem at the windows in a radiant shower,And rain drops beat the panes like timorous wings.Then all is still. The stones are crooned to sleep By the soft sound of rain that slowly dies;And cradled in the branches, hidden deepIn each bright bud, a slumbering silence lies.Kergord WoodsAmidst Shetland Island’s wild and beautiful scenery, with its deeply indented coasts and enclosed steep hills, stands a solitary forest. Kergord Woods, located in Weisdale, is the only substantial woodland in the Shetland Islands. Planted between 1909 – 1921, the trees thrive, despite harsh winter weather, and invite woodland birds to make their home among their branches.Photography and Recitation by Rebecca BuddLocation: Kergord Woods, Shetland IslandsMusic David Celeste “Life of Devotion” Epidemic Soundhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/track/YD13EzNuf5/

S6 E6: Lady Godiva by Alfred Lord Tennyson - A poetry RecitationWelcome to Rebecca’s Reading Room.Today I am sharing a recitation of “Godiva” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, a poem first published in 1842 among his early works.Tennyson wrote this poem after visiting the town of Coventry in England, where the legend of Lady Godiva had lived for centuries. According to the story, Godiva pleaded with her husband, Earl Leofric, to relieve the heavy taxes placed upon the townspeople. When he mockingly challenged her to ride unclothed through the town, she accepted the impossible task in order to ease their suffering.In Tennyson’s telling, the moment becomes not a spectacle, but an act of quiet moral courage. The townspeople honour her sacrifice by closing their doors and windows, allowing her dignity to remain intact.The text for this reading comes from Project Gutenberg, where Tennyson’s early poems are preserved in the public domain.I hope you enjoy this recitation of “Godiva.”RebeccaCoventry, EnglandPhotography and Recitation by Rebecca Budd Music by Epidemic Sound“Affectionate Love” by David Celestehttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/9ccba233-c29a-3980-a75c-bf4d73604a75/

S6 E5 A Garden Meditation - Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Classical Chinese GardenWelcome to this quiet reflection.Today’s meditation comes from the Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Classical Chinese Garden, a place where architecture, water, and stone come together to create a space of stillness in the middle of the city.The images and sounds you will experience invite us to slow down, to notice, and to remember that calm attention is something we can cultivate each day.Find a comfortable place to sit or simply listen as you are.Let the music and the garden guide the pace.RebeccaMusic by Epidemic Sound“Angelica” by David Edwardhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/0b2602e3-79cd-4080-9121-13185a8a0123/Photography by Rebecca Budd

S6 E4: Dear March - Come In by Emily DickinsonMarch brings balance. It strips judgement of its urgency. Once this guest has arrived, trifles fall away. What matters is presence, not verdict.“Dear March—Come in—” reminds us that some moments should not be rushed or improved upon. Some seasons are meant to be welcomed, sat with, listened to. March is not yet bloom, not yet abundance—but it is essential. Without it, nothing else follows. March has come in. The door is closed to haste. And upstairs, there is still so much to tell.Dear March—Come in—How glad I am—I hoped for you before—Put down your Hat—You must have walked—How out of Breath you are—Dear March, how are you, and the Rest—Did you leave Nature well—Oh March, Come right upstairs with me—I have so much to tell—I got your Letter, and the Birds—The Maples never knew that you were coming—I declare - how Red their Faces grew—But March, forgive me—And all those Hills you left for me to Hue—There was no Purple suitable—You took it all with you—Who knocks? That April—Lock the Door—I will not be pursued—He stayed away a Year to callWhen I am occupied—But trifles look so trivialAs soon as you have comeThat blame is just as dear as PraiseAnd Praise as mere as Blame—Photography & Recitation by Rebecca BuddLocation: North Vancouver.Music by Johannes Bornlöf “Serene” Epidemic Soundhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/tr...

S6 E3: Where Stories Sit Beside UsWelcome. I’m so glad you’ve found your way here.Rebecca’s Reading Room is a place for readers who don’t just read books, but take them somewhere. Into parks. On to benches. Beneath trees. Into moments where the world softens and the page begins to breathe alongside us.A few years ago, I was sitting in a park with a book in my hands, the kind of book that announces itself by weight alone. Thick pages. A scent that only time can give. The sort of book that has been held, opened, and loved long before it ever reached you.I was reading The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. And beside me stood a tree that felt, for that hour, like part of the story itself. Not scenery, but companion. The kind of place where reading doesn’t feel separate from living, but stitched into it.Some of us have special reading places. We return to them. Or we carry them with us. And over time, the book and the setting become inseparable — the story remembered not just by plot, but by light, air, birdsong, and stillness.Today, I’d like to share a moment from that world — from young Robin Hood, from the shooting match, from a story that has travelled centuries to find a quiet afternoon under a tree.And this is what Rebecca’s Reading Room is all about. It’s about taking books out into the world with us. Letting stories sit beside us. Allowing pages to mingle with place, memory, and time. Here, reading isn’t rushed. It isn’t measured or counted. It’s lived.I’m so glad you’re here, and I warmly welcome you to a new season of reading and exploring. Where old books still speak, and quiet moments still matter.RebeccaMusic by Epidemic Sound”Forest Myths” by Deskanthttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/4923db4d-b268-369e-87f8-f60bce040a45/

S6 E2: Celebrating Robert BurnsEvery January 25, Burns suppers are held all over the world—around kitchen tables, in community halls, and wherever people gather to honour words that have endured.Today, we’re celebrating Robert Burns, affectionately known as Rabbie Burns—the great Scottish poet and lyricist. Burns has been given many honourary titles over the years: the Bard of Scotland, the Ploughman Poet, a voice of the people. He wrote in the language he lived in—sometimes Scots, sometimes English—always with heart, wit, and deep humanity.Burns suppers have long been a tradition in Scotland and far beyond its borders. And no Burns supper is ever complete without hearing the traditional “Address to a Haggis.”A few years ago, I created a podcast to honour this tradition, and it has become something I return to each year—because some words deserve to be spoken aloud, again and again.I’ve asked my son, Thomas, to recite those famous words for us—spoken with affection, respect, and a sense of continuity. This is not just a performance, but a passing on of tradition: from voice to voice, from one generation to the next.So wherever you are listening from, I invite you to pause, lean in, and join us in this small act of remembrance and celebration.RebeccaPhotography Rebecca BuddPoetry Recitation by Thomas BuddMusic by Epidemic SoundMegan Wolford “Auld Lang Syne” (Piano Version)https://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/a84e66ca-bf57-40e9-91fe-c8ab3d7ca608/Location: Burns Cottage and Burns Monument and Memorial Gardens, Ayrshire, Scotland

S6 E1:A Long, Long Sleep, A Famous Sleep by Emily Dickinson (Poem 582)A long, long sleep, a famous sleepThat makes no show for dawnBy stretch of limb or stir of lid,—An independent one.Was ever idleness like this?Within a hut of stoneTo bask the centuries awayNor once look up for noon?There is something both eerie and tender in these eight lines. Emily Dickinson’s poem opens with the rhythm of rest—a “famous sleep” that suggests death, not as an end but as an enduring state of being. The “independent one” is beyond the cycles of morning and noon, detached from time, yet curiously alive in our imagination.Death here is not portrayed as tragic; rather, it is stillness without suffering, idleness without regret. The “hut of stone” reminds us of the grave, but also of solitude—a sanctuary from motion and measure. Dickinson transforms what might seem a bleak image into an act of cosmic repose.When I read these words aloud, I felt a kind of reverent hush. There is no fear in this poem, only acceptance—a surrender to what lies beyond waking. It reminds me how rarely we allow ourselves to be still, to imagine existence without striving or movement. Dickinson’s voice whispers across the centuries, asking us to consider that eternity might not be loud or radiant, but quietly restful.Perhaps that is the deeper invitation of this poem: to recognize that rest itself—the long, long sleep—is not an absence of life, but a continuation of being in another form.My Takeaway: As I recited this poem, I was struck by how Dickinson frames death not as darkness, but as independence—a release from the tyranny of time. The line “To bask the centuries away” lingers with me, an image of peaceful endurance. It made me wonder: if we could “bask” within the moments of our lives, instead of rushing through them, might we glimpse a little eternity even now?Thank you for joining me in the Poetry Salon. Until the next poem unfolds,RebeccaVideo: Eivindvik, Norway (R. Budd Photo Archives)Music by Epidemic SoundPsalm by Anders Schiller Paulsenhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/1f1d94e9-5fc4-477c-a3c4-156df67d4c9a/

S5 E18: The Elephant Child by D. Wallace Peach ©An elephant child, carefree and wildWalked into the wintry woodsHe followed fox tails and jackrabbit trailsIgnoring his mother’s “shoulds”Of course, he got lost and chilled by the frostAs night began to fallTo his rump he sunk and tooted his trunkBut no one answered his callOh, that cold night, to the elephant frightThe clouds began to snowHe sniffled and shivered, shook and quiveredHis nose he needed to blowThe blizzard swirled and snowflakes twirledHe plodded on wobbly kneesHis head grew stuffy, the snow so fluffyHe blew out a honking sneezeLosing hope, he started to mopeWhen in an evergreen treeHe spied a house, just right for a mouseAnd he let go a trumpet of gleeAlas the place hadn’t the spaceTo fit an elephant’s bulkThe lost little guy plunked down for a cryHis head hung low in a sulkThe house was quite nice, chock full of miceWho whispered quiet and lowWhat was that? Did you hear a cat?Lurking out in the snow?Across the wood floor, they dashed to the doorFlicked on the outside lightIn a rodent flurry, they squeaked and scurriedAn elephant! What a sight!Let’s offer a seat for a tea and a treatSaid a mouse who felt overly boldI think he is lost so covered in frostAnd surely his ears are cold.Full of care and courage to spareThey crawled out on a limbThey slipped on the ice those brave little miceAnd their mission turned quite grimBut they held on tight with all their mightAnd called to the elephantCome in from the storm, come in and get warmBut the elephant said I can’t!Though I’m only four, I’ll bust the doorI’ll break the branch from the treeI’ll crack your stairs and squash your chairsI’m far too heavy, you see.You have to try, hurry in and dryGet up! Please give it a go!The elephant groaned, he mumbled and moanedThough he longed to get out of the snow.With strength galore, he pushed on the doorThe tree branch started to bendThe home nearly fell, and the mice had to yellPlease stop, or we’re end-over-end!The elephant frowned as the flakes tumbled downHis trunk a bright shade of blueOh, what a glitch, mice-whiskers did twitch.What were the rodents to do?Now, due to their size, mice aren’t very wiseTheir brains are as tiny as seedsThey may not be smart, but they have lots of heartAnd sometimes that’s all that you need.They sketched out a plan as only mice canAnd piled his back with sweatersAnd blankets and sheets, and curtains with pleatsTiny coats of wool and black leatherWith the elephant warm, and safe from all harmThey dialed their old-fashioned phoneWe’re seeking his mother, a father or brother!This elephant’s all alone!Well what do you know, because of the snowHis parents were suffering fitsThey dashed to him fast and hugged him at lastAnd stayed for some tea and biscuits.Thus ends the plight of the elephant’s nightBe careful when out in the woodsYou might meet some mice who are caring and niceBut just in case…Remember your mother’s shouldsPoem by D. Wallace PeachRecitation by D. Wallace PeachPhotography by Rebecca BuddMusic by Howard Harper-Barnes “A Leaf Falls” #EpidemicSoundhttps://www.epidemicso...

S5 E17 October By Robert FrostO hushed October morning mild,Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,Should waste them all.The crows above the forest call;Tomorrow they may form and go.O hushed October morning mild,Begin the hours of this day slow.Make the day seem to us less brief.Hearts not averse to being beguiled,Beguile us in the way you know.Release one leaf at break of day;At noon release another leaf;One from our trees, one far away.Retard the sun with gentle mist;Enchant the land with amethyst.Slow, slow!For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—For the grapes’ sake along the wall.October: A Celebration of Quiet ResilienceWhen I first recited “October” in 2020, the world was standing still. Streets were empty, gatherings were postponed, and even the air seemed to hesitate. Yet in that pause, poetry found its voice again. Frost’s gentle invocation to ‘retard the sun with gentle mist’ became a kind of prayer. Not for escape, but for endurance.Resilience does not always roar. Sometimes, it whispers ‘slow, slow.’ It asks us to hold on just a little longer, to find beauty even in uncertainty. In Frost’s world, the falling of each leaf is not a loss but part of the rhythm of survival. Each pause, each delay, each quiet act of attention becomes an affirmation that life continues in tender, imperfect, and enduring ways.Looking back now, “October” reminds me how we learned to adapt: to find comfort in small rituals, to connect through words when touch was forbidden, and to let art and poetry become our gathering places. The mist that Frost imagined became, for us, a shelter with a soft veil through which we could still see light.So today, as leaves again turn to gold and wind stirs through the trees, I read “October” not as a farewell, but as a renewal. It is a reminder that even in seasons of loss, resilience grows quietly, leaf by leaf, word by word, morning by morning.Until the next page turns,RebeccaMusic by Epidemic SoundSnow In June by Martin Landhhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/music/tracks/6a1b6e6b-a192-3195-9c4b-fa9f1e322cdd/

S5 EX: Celebrating Halloween with Carl SandburgHappy Halloween!Why do we love Halloween? Maybe it’s the thrill of shadows, the whispered stories of ghosts and goblins, or the sheer joy of transforming the ordinary into the extraordinary with costumes, pumpkins, and flickering candles. Halloween is a night where imagination takes the lead — where even the wind seems to carry secrets.Tonight, I’m celebrating Halloween with Carl Sandburg, who had a gift for finding poetry in the everyday. His short poem, Theme in Yellow, doesn’t dwell on fright or fear. Instead, he turns to the pumpkin — that bright, round companion of autumn — and gives it a mischievous voice. The jack-o’-lantern smiles with a glow that is equal parts harvest warmth and playful trickery.Sandburg’s images — yellow balls on the hills, orange and tawny gold in the cornfields, the harvest moon rising — remind us that Halloween isn’t just about spooks and scares. It’s also about autumn’s abundance, the laughter of children, and the community that gathers around the simple magic of light in the dark.So when you see a pumpkin glowing on a porch tonight, think of Sandburg’s words, and know that you are part of a tradition that stretches across fields, front steps, and generationsTheme in Yellowby Carl Sandburg I spot the hillsWith yellow balls in autumn.I light the prairie cornfieldsOrange and tawny gold clustersAnd I am called pumpkins.On the last of OctoberWhen dusk is fallenChildren join handsAnd circle round meSinging ghost songsAnd love to the harvest moon;I am a jack-o’-lanternWith terrible teethAnd the children knowI am fooling.As October draws to a close, I am reminded that Halloween is more than a night of costumes and candy. It is a pause at the threshold between seasons — a moment when the glow of a pumpkin lantern can carry us back to the wonder of childhood and forward into the quiet of November. Carl Sandburg’s Theme in Yellow shows me that even in the simplest of images — a smiling jack-o’-lantern, a harvest moon — there is both playfulness and grace. This Halloween, I celebrate not only the mysteries of the night, but also the gift of imagination that lets us find light, even in the gathering dark.Thank you for joining me in celebrating Halloween with Carl Sandburg. Until next time we meet, keep reading and reciting poetry.RebeccaPhotography and Poetry Recitation by Rebecca BuddMusic by Epidemic Sound“Creepy Crawly” by Arthur Benson “Creepy Crawly”https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/h6bdDl6AwC/Location Simon Fraser University, Burnaby Campus

S5 E16: Letting Go – A Reflection on Sara Teasdale’s Poem, “Leaves”“One by one my leaves fall.As the wind wills I let them go.”So begins Sara Teasdale’s quietly powerful poem Leaves. With just two lines, she opens a meditation on release — not as an act of despair, but as an act of grace.Teasdale often wrote at the edges of feeling, where the heart meets the natural world. In Leaves, she surrenders to change — not passively, but with the wisdom of someone who has lived through many seasons. Each falling leaf becomes a metaphor for what we are asked to release in life: expectations, grief, youth, even love. And yet, there is no bitterness in her words. Only stillness. Only wind.This poem reminds me that letting go doesn’t always need to be loud. There is a quiet strength in yielding, a power in choosing not to hold too tightly. In my own life, I have found this kind of gentle release in moments of transition — the closing of a chapter, the farewell to a place or person, the shift from one season of being to the next. Teasdale captures that threshold with exquisite simplicity.Leaves by Sarah TeasdaleOne by one, like leaves from a tree,All my faiths have forsaken me;But the stars above my headBurn in white and delicate red,And beneath my feet the earthBrings the sturdy grass to birth.I who was content to beBut a silken-singing tree,But a rustle of delightIn the wistful heart of nightI have lost the leaves that knewTouch of rain and weight of dew.Blinded by a leafy crownI looked neither up nor downBut the little leaves that dieHave left me room to see the sky;Now for the first time I knowStars above and earth belowHow Sara Teasdale Speaks to Our World TodayThough Sara Teasdale wrote in the early 20th century, her poetry carries an intimacy that feels strikingly relevant to our 21st-century lives. In an age of rapid change, digital noise, and constant performance, her voice is a balm — spare, honest, and deeply human.My TakeawayLeaves, in particular, mirrors the quiet struggles of letting go — of identities, relationships, dreams, or expectations. While the world often celebrates noise, speed, and achievement, Teasdale reminds us of the sacredness of stillness, the dignity of sorrow, and the strength it takes to soften.Her work did not shy away from isolation, longing, or existential reflection. Those same emotions feel even more present today, in the midst of uncertainty, climate anxiety, and personal reinvention. In her words, we find a mirror for our contradictions: desire and solitude, hope and melancholy, beauty and transience.Perhaps that is why she still feels so alive to us now. Teasdale gives us permission to linger — to feel deeply, to let things go at our own pace. In her gentleness, there is a kind of rebellion. And in her vulnerability, a timeless strength.For me, this poem is an invitation to trust the seasons of our lives. We cannot stop the leaves from falling, but we can choose how we let them go. To release what no longer serves us is not weakness — it is wisdom.And how fitting to reflect on this now, in September — the month when the air sharpens, the light softens, and the trees begin their quiet surrender. September has always been my favourite month, a time when endings and beginnings weave together. In Teasdale’s words, I hear not only farewell, but also the promise of renewal.So today, I invite you to pause with her poem. Let it stir your own memories, your own moments of soft surrender. Perhaps you, too, are releasing something right now. If so, may the wind be kind.Thank you for joining me in Rebecca’s Reading Room.RebeccaPhotography & Recitation by Rebecca BuddMusic by Epidemic Sound Music by Ström “Vila” https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/Z...

S5 E15: Happy Birthday Johann Wolfgang von GoetheToday, August 28, 1749, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was born in Frankfurt am Main, Germany. Poet, playwright, novelist, philosopher, scientist — Goethe embodied the boundless energy of creativity. His words carried the currents of human longing, joy, and striving into every corner of life.Centuries later, we still turn to him, not out of duty to the “canon,” but because his voice feels startlingly alive. He reminds us that literature is not static; it is a living, breathing companion to our journeys.For me, Goethe has become a guide through the labyrinth of Faust. That great, mysterious work continues to reveal new pathways each time I open its pages. It is not just a play but a meditation on being human: on ambition, temptation, wonder, and the search for meaning.“Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it; Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.”Today, I lift my glass in a toast to Goethe — to his courage in dreaming, to his insistence on beginning, and to the enduring magic that his words offer to every reader who dares to follow.Here in Rebecca’s Reading Room, I invite you to pause with me. Perhaps read a line of Goethe aloud. Perhaps take a quiet moment to dream. And most of all, to celebrate the wonder of words that outlive time.Happy Birthday, Goethe! May your voice continue to echo in our lives.With joy and gratitudeRebeccaNote: As Don and I explore the creative possibilities of voice, we are experimenting with ways to artistically reimagine how past voices might sound if they could speak to us today. What might Goethe say, if he could step across centuries to offer us a lesson? These are not impersonations but tributes — a way of bringing literature to life in new forms, so that it may continue to echo in our present.This audio performance was created in collaboration with Don and with the help of ElevenLabs AI voice technology. Our aim is not impersonation but artistic reimagining — a way of bringing literature to life for a new generation of listeners. Music is by Epidemic Sound: “All that you will be” by Gavin Luk The photograph of is of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe at age 79 by Joseph Karl Stieler, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

S5 E14: Benediction by Georgia Douglas JohnsonThere are moments in life when we are called to let go — not out of indifference, but out of deep, abiding love. Georgia Douglas Johnson’s Benediction captures such a moment with tenderness and strength. It is the voice of an elder, perhaps a parent or mentor, sending their beloved into the world with a heart full of hope and release.When I first read this poem, I felt a sense of destiny — not just for the speaker’s son, but for my own. We want the best for our children. We dream for them, pray for them, and carry them with our whole hearts. And yet, there comes a time when we must let them go. We send them forward, knowing that they are stepping into parts of life we may never see.This is the quiet ache and the deep joy of parenthood: to be the wind beneath their wings, even as we step back and watch them rise.Here is the poem that stirred these reflections:Benediction by Georgia Douglas JohnsonGo forth, my son,Winged by my heart’s desire!Great reaches, yet unknown,AwaitFor your possession.I may not, if I would,Retrace the way with you,My pilgrimage is through,But life is calling you!Fare high and far, my son,A new day has begun,Thy star-ways must be won!This poem is in the public domainLegacy, Light, and the Harlem RenaissanceGeorgia Douglas Johnson’s Benediction belongs to the cultural and literary movement of the Harlem Renaissance — a time when Black poets, artists, and thinkers brought forth a powerful creative surge that reshaped American arts and letters. It was a renaissance of voices long silenced, expressing pain, pride, resilience, and joy.This poem, though intimate in tone, echoes a collective history. It feels like a passing of the torch — from one generation that has endured much to another with boundless possibility. In this way, Benediction speaks to all of us, especially today, as we reckon with legacy and responsibility, past and future.Georgia’s words remind us that every journey is made possible by those who came before — and that blessings given in love can become the wings that carry us forward.Thank you for sharing this special moment with me in my reading room.RebeccaMusic by Epidemic SoundFrancis Wells “What Might Have Been” https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/qtKx4CYCCe/

S5 E13 The Valuable Time of Maturity by Mário Raul de Morais AndradeOne of my first poetry recitation was the poem, “The Valuable Time of Maturity,” by the Brazilian literary giant Mário Raul de Morais Andrade. This piece found its serendipitous way to me through an email from my mother. Its heartfelt messages resonated deeply within me. As I navigate through life’s complexities, I find that Andrade’s eloquent reflections on the essence of time, maturity, and meaningful connections take on deeper significance with each passing year. The more I experience life, the more I appreciate the wisdom embedded in these verses, urging me to savour my time and prioritize genuine relationships over fleeting distractions.Thank you for joining me in my reading room,RebeccaMusic by Blue dot Sessions “Celestial Navigation””Celestial Navigation by Blue Dot Sessions is licensed under an Attribution-NonCommercial License.https://freemusicarchive.org/music/Blue_Dot_Sessions/Aeronaut/Celestial_Navigation/

S5 E12: As if the Sea should Part by Emily DickinsonThe poem "As If The Sea Should Part" by Emily Dickinson delves into the concept of infinity through the imagery of an infinite ocean. The speaker envisions the sea parting to reveal further seas, symbolizing an endless sequence and emphasizing the vastness of the natural world, ultimately questioning the limits of human perception.In contrast to some of Dickinson's other works, this poem is notably concise and centered on a singular theme, lacking the intricate imagery and complex syntax often present in her poetry. However, it echoes her recurring exploration of the relationship between the finite and the infinite.From a historical perspective, “As If The Sea Should Part” aligns with the Romantic era’s preoccupation with the sublime and the natural world. The speaker’s profound wonder at the boundless ocean and the suggestion of an unseen realm beyond it captures the Romantic aspiration to surpass the constraints of human comprehension.My takeaways from “As If The Sea Should Part” by Emily DickinsonI felt a sense of awe and contemplation about the infinite, the vastness of the natural world and the constraints of human understanding. “Themselves the Verge of Seas to be—Eternity—is Those” inspired a deeper consideration of the infinite and the mysteries of existence. Emily invited me to explore my relationship with the unknown and the profound.As If the Sea should part by Emily Dickinson695As if the Sea should partAnd show a further Sea—And that—a further—and the ThreeBut a presumption be—Of Periods of Seas—Unvisited of Shores—Themselves the Verge of Seas to be—Eternity—is Those—Recitation by Rebecca BuddLocation: Victoria, British ColumbiaMusic by Epidemic Sound“For What Is Right” By Trevor Kowalskihttps://www.epidemicsound.com/track/W...

S5 E11: Facing My Fears: A Poetry Meditation by Colleen M. ChesbroFear is a powerful emotion that arises in response to perceived threats or dangers. It is an instinct that has evolved to protect us from harm. When we encounter something that triggers fear, our bodies prepare us for fight or flight.Facing My Fears by Colleen M Chesebro offers a poetry meditation on the power of releasing our anxieties – to embrace freedom to live with joy and hope.Please join me in reciting, Facing My Fears by Colleen M ChesebroFacing My FearsHow do I look deeply into the eyes of my fears? How do I respond to the knowingwhen it speaks what I don’t want to hear?How do I release the anxiety when the deception is part of me? Bone-hollow, blood-filled, illusionary.The shadows of fear follow me, distractions of the truth—hot lies, burdensome chains that bind When I release the fear, I’m reborn,Like the Phoenix, I spread my wings: flight bound, homeward I soar,surrounded in a mantle of light.Location Victoria, British Columbia Recitation and Photography by Rebecca BuddMusic by Yonder Dale “Benevolent” Epidemic Soundhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/track/shJ7

S5 E10: Dorothy Dances by Louis UntermeyerLouis Untermeyer’s poem “Dorothy Dances” captures the essence of youthful exuberance and the fleeting nature of joy. The poem vividly portrays the character of Dorothy, who embodies innocence and a carefree spirit. Through rich imagery and rhythmic cadence, Untermeyer captures the dance as a metaphor for life’s ephemeral moments.“Dorothy Dances” invites us to explore the interplay between innocence and the complexities of adult life. Reading this poem allows me to reflect on my own experiences of joy and loss. My key takeaways from “Dorothy Dances” are to appreciate the beauty of simplicity, the importance of cherishing moments of happiness, and an acknowledgment of the bittersweet transitions we all face as we age. Ultimately, “Dorothy Dances” serves as a poignant reminder to embrace life’s dance, with all its ups and downs.Dorothy Dances by Louis UntermeyerThis is no child that dances. This is flame.Here fire at last has found its natural frame.What else is that which burns and fliesFrom those enkindled eyes...What is that inner blazeWhich playsAbout that lighted face?...This thing is fire set free—Fire possesses her, or rather sheControls its mastery.With every gesture, every rhythmic stride,Beat after beat,It follows, purring at her side,Or licks the shadows of her flashing feet.Around her everywhereIt coils its thread of yellow hair.Through every vein its bright blood creeps,And its red handsCaress her as she standsOr lift her boldly when she leaps.Then, as the surgeOf radiance grows strongerThese two are two no longerAnd they mergeInto a disembodied ecstasy;FreeTo express some half-forgotten hunger,Some half-forbidden urge.What mysteryHas been at work until it blentOne child and that fierce element?Give it no name.It is enough that flesh has danced with flame.Music by Epidemic SoundHot Nights in the City By Riverwornhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/track/gHq93ca4U3/“Solitude in Motion” By Golden Age Radiohttps://www.epidemicsound.com/track/L1wFapK56R/

S5 E9: Sunshine After by Josephine D HeardJosephine Delphine Henderson Heard, an American poet linked to the Harlem Renaissance, made significant literary contributions that connect to earlier Black American writing traditions. Her poetry, characterized by directness and traditional forms like sonnets and ballads, explores themes of nature, faith, and racial identity, mirroring the sociopolitical context of her era. While her style was not as experimental as some later Harlem Renaissance poets, Josephine Heard’s work remains timeless due to its focus on universal human experiences. Though not widely recognized, she captures the essence of human emotion and connection. One of Josephine’s notable poems, “Sunshine After Cloud,” highlights themes of reconciliation and the importance of cherishing relationships over dwelling on past grievances. Through her writing, she encourages readers to embrace happiness and forgiveness, illustrating her deep understanding of the complexities of life and love.“Sunshine After Cloud” reminds us that time is precious.The speaker’s invitation to reconcile and let go of past grievances speaks to the transient nature of life, urging both individuals to recognize the value of their shared moments. The line “Time is so precious, you and me; / Must spend ours doing better” reminds us that time is limited and should be dedicated to nurturing relationships rather than clinging to resentment. This awareness prompts a shift in perspective—from focusing on misunderstandings to embracing joy and connection.In a world that often rushes forward, I am learning to acknowledge that every moment I experience is precious. Embracing kindness, reconciliation, and forgiveness is transformative.Sunshine After Cloud by Josephine D. HeardCome, “Will,” let’s be good friends again,      Our wrongs let’s be forgetting, For words bring only useless pain,      So wherefore then be fretting. Let’s lay aside imagined wrongs,     And ne’er give way to grieving,Life should be filled with joyous songs,     No time left for deceiving. I’ll try and not give way to wrath,     Nor be so often crying; There must some thorns be in our path,     Let’s move them now by trying. How, like a foolish pair were we,     To fume about a letter; Time is so precious, you and me;     Must spend ours doing better.This poem is in the public domain.Poetry Recitation by Rebecca BuddMusic by Epidemic Sound “Soft Reminder” by Eneidehttps://www.epidemicsound.com/track/CCSWbY4TaX/

S5 E8: Celebrating Earth Day 2025 with Henry David ThoreauEach year on Earth Day, I read from Henry David Thoreau’s famous work, Walden. My copy of Walden was a gift from my father which allows me to celebrate Earth Day by remembering our “Walden” conversations from years past. Dad agreed with Thoreau’s insights on living within our world: the importance of simplicity, self-sufficiency, and a deep appreciation for the natural environment that surrounds us. The changing seasons, the sounds of the forest, and the rhythms of life serve as a reminder of the interconnectedness of all living things.Thoreau’s words encourage us to reflect on our relationship with nature and to embrace a lifestyle that harmonizes with the beauty and tranquility of the world. When we slow down and appreciate the small wonders of life, we begin to understand the vital role that nature plays in our well-being.In this age of rapid change and growing environmental challenges, Thoreau’s words resonate even more. They inspire us to seek solace, clarity, and purpose in nature, reminding us that our survival is intrinsically linked to the health of the planet.By recognizing Earth Day, we acknowledge the importance of preserving our planet for future generations and affirm our commitment to nurturing the Earth.“We need the tonic of wildness…At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be indefinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable. We can never have enough of nature.” HENRY DAVID THOREAU, WALDEN: OR, LIFE IN THE WOODSMusic by Epidemic Sound“A New Horizon” By Howard Harper-Barneshttps://www.epidemicsound.com/track/A9lxGjXerr/

S5 E7: Celebrating National Poetry Month April 2025, Canada celebrates National Poetry Month with a heartfelt theme: family. This theme invites us to explore the intricate connections that define our lives, from the bonds with parents and siblings to the love shared with pets and soulmates. It encourages reflection on friendships that feel like family, even the nurturing of plants that bring life into our homes.Poetry serves as a lens through which we can examine the shape of family, highlighting the intergenerational impact of our ancestors and how their legacies influence the generations that follow. Through this exploration, we find a deeper understanding of love, support, and the shared experiences that unite us all.Trees Need Not Walk The EarthBy David RosenthalTrees need not walk the earth For beauty or for bread; Beauty will come to them Where they stand. Here among the children of the sapIs no pride of ancestry: A birch may wear no less the morning Than an oak. Here are no heirlooms Save those of loveliness, In which each tree Is kingly in its heritage of grace. Here is but beauty’s wisdom In which all trees are wise. Trees need not walk the earth For beauty or for bread; Beauty will come to them In the rainbow— The sunlight— And the lilac-haunted rain;And bread will come to them As beauty came: In the rainbow— In the sunlight— In the rain.This poem is in the public domain.Trees need not walk the earth For beauty or for bread; Beauty will come to them Where they stand. Here among the children of the sapIs no pride of ancestry: A birch may wear no less the morning Than an oak. Here are no heirlooms Save those of loveliness, In which each tree Is kingly in its heritage of grace. Here is but beauty’s wisdom In which all trees are wise. Trees need not walk the earth For beauty or for bread; Beauty will come to them In the rainbow— The sunlight— And the lilac-haunted rain;And bread will come to them As beauty came: In the rainbow— In the sunlight— In the rain.This poem is in the public domain.Recitation by Rebecca Budd, Music by Epidemic Sound "Uncertain Changes" by Yonder Dale https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/0kuVtGgetF/

S5 E6: A Light Exists In Spring by Emily Elizabeth DickinsonA Light Exists In Spring by Emily Elizabeth DickinsonSpring brings a unique light that awakens the earth and enhances the vibrancy of colours. Greens have a vivid radiance that energizes the spring blooms. As the mist of the new season settles, I feel the gentleness of the serene atmosphere, which invites me to open my arms wide to embrace the beauty around me. The fresh air is invigorating. It is a time of renewal and growth, where nature comes alive in a spectacular display. Each day feels like a celebration of life, as the warmth of the sun begins to chase away the remnants of winter, encouraging a sense of hope and possibility.Emily Dickinson’s words in her poem, “A Light Exists in Spring” speaks of the essence of spring with its delicate interplay of light and nature. She evokes a sense of renewal and awakening, using vivid imagery to portray the subtle yet profound transformations that occur during this season. Using a contemplative and reverent tone, Emily invites me to experience the tranquility and joy that accompanies the arrival of spring.In the final stanzas, Emily reflects on the passage of this unique light, linking it to feelings of loss. She reminds me to appreciate the beauty of the present moment while acknowledging that it too will fade. Her words are a meditation on how seasonal changes signify a deeper understanding of the cycle of life.A Light Exists In SpringBy Emily Elizabeth DickinsonA light exists in springNot present on the yearAt any other period.When March is scarcely hereA color stands abroadOn solitary hillsThat science cannot overtake,But human nature feels.It waits upon the lawn;It shows the furthest treeUpon the furthest slope we know;It almost speaks to me.Then, as horizons step,Or noons report away,Without the formula of sound,It passes, and we stay:A quality of lossAffecting our content,As trade had suddenly encroachedUpon a sacrament.Photography and Poetry Recitation by Rebecca BuddMusic by Gavin Luke “Solace” #EpidemicSoundLocation Butchart Gardens, Vancouver Island, Canadahttps://www.epidemicsound.com/track/jU8gaZdTSJ/

S5 E5: Songs for the People by Frances Ellen Watkins Let me make the songs for the people,   Songs for the old and young;Songs to stir like a battle-cry   Wherever they are sung. Not for the clashing of sabres,   For carnage nor for strife;But songs to thrill the hearts of men   With more abundant life. Let me make the songs for the weary,   Amid life’s fever and fret,Till hearts shall relax their tension,   And careworn brows forget. Let me sing for little children,   Before their footsteps stray,Sweet anthems of love and duty,   To float o’er life’s highway. I would sing for the poor and aged,   When shadows dim their sight;Of the bright and restful mansions,   Where there shall be no night. Our world, so worn and weary,   Needs music, pure and strong,To hush the jangle and discords   Of sorrow, pain, and wrong. Music to soothe all its sorrow,   Till war and crime shall cease; And the hearts of men grown tender   Girdle the world with peace.Frances Ellen Watkins Harper’s poem "Songs for the People" serves as a poignant call for hope, unity, and resilience in the face of life's struggles. The poem emphasizes the power of music and song to inspire and uplift individuals across generations. She begins with a declaration of intent: she wants to create songs that resonate universally, stirring feelings akin to a battle-cry but focused not on violence, but on enhancing the human experience.The poem contrasts images of conflict and discord with those of peace and solace. Frances expresses a deep empathy for the weary, the poor, and the aged, suggesting that her songs would serve to ease their burdens and illuminate their paths. The reference to music as a calming force highlights her belief in the transformative power of art, portraying it as a remedy for societal woes, ultimately emphasizing the necessity of compassion and community.Throughout the poem, Frances’s language is rich with a rhythmic quality that reflects the very music she evokes. Her use of direct address "Let me" underscores her urgency and desire to address the collective human experience. By the poem's conclusion, she envisions a world where tenderness prevails, advocating for a collective uplifting through shared melodies.I believe the poem, "Songs for the People" by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper is essential reading in our current reality. Frances captures the struggles and aspirations of marginalized communities, emphasizing themes of hope, resilience, and social justice. Despite being published in 1896, its messages resonate today, reflecting ongoing issues such as inequality and the fight for civil rights. The poem serves as a reminder of the enduring human spirit and the importance of advocating for change, making it highly relevant in contemporary society.Thank you for joining me in my reading room,RebeccaPoetry Recitation by Rebecca BuddMusic by Benjamin Kling “Like Clockwork” Epidemic Soundhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/track/uq38LkIbas/Vancouver Public Art “Should I Be Worried?” By Justin LangloisLocation: Vancouver Seawall

S5 E4 ”Crossing the Bar” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson “Crossing the Bar” is a reflective poem written by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. It was first published in 1889, just a few years before the poet’s death. The theme of mortality and the journey from life to death are embedded in these poetic words. “Crossing the Bar” is an extended metaphor to liken death to traversing the “sandbar” that separates the river of life, characterized by its flowing “flood,” from the vast ocean beyond death, referred to as the “boundless deep,” to which we ultimately return.Tennyson sets the tone in the opening lines as he describes the setting sun and the evening star, creating a serene and tranquil atmosphere. The poet hears a clear call, symbolizing the call of death, and expresses his hope that there will be no obstacles or difficulties when he departs from this world (“no moaning of the bar”).He then speaks of a tide that seems asleep – a peaceful and gentle movement, not turbulent or agitated. This metaphor suggests a smooth transition from life to death, as the speaker hopes for a serene and calm passage.As the poem progresses, Tennyson introduces the imagery of twilight, evening bell, and the eventual darkness. These elements symbolize the approach of death and the unknown that lies beyond. Despite the uncertainty, the poet expresses his desire for a farewell free from sadness, indicating his acceptance and peace with the inevitable.In the final stanza, Tennyson reflects on the journey beyond the boundaries of time and place. He speaks of a flood that may carry him far away, but he still holds hope in his heart. The speaker longs to see his “Pilot face to face” after crossing the metaphorical bar, suggesting his expectancy of meeting the Divine and finding solace in the presence of a guiding force.“Crossing the Bar” is a deeply contemplative poem that addresses the universal inevitability of death and the unknown journey that follows. Tennyson’s masterful use of imagery and metaphor creates a sense of tranquility, acceptance, and hope amidst the uncertainty of life’s ultimate voyage.Crossing the BarBY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSONSunset and evening star, And one clear call for me!And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam,When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark!And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far,I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar.“Crossing the Bar,” offers a key lesson. That is, the importance of acceptance. Tennyson encourages us to embrace the inevitability of death as a natural part of life’s journey. His use of imagery related to the sea serves as a metaphor for life’s uncertainties, reminding us to navigate our experiences with courage and grace. Ultimately, “Crossing the Bar” teaches us to reflect on our lives, cherish our relationships, and find peace in the face of the unknown.Thank you for joining me in my reading room,Rebecca

S5 E3 Woods in Winter by Henry Wadsworth LongfellowReading poetry in the winter offers a unique comfort, as the cold, often bleak environment outside contrasts with the warmth and intimacy found in verse. The act of curling up with a collection of poems allows one to escape into a world of emotion and reflection, where the themes of solitude and introspection resonate deeply during the darker months. The rhythmic flow of words can evoke a sense of nostalgia and peace, making the experience of reading poetry a soothing ritual that provides solace against the chill of winter.Reading poetry in the winter offers a unique comfort!Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem “Woods in Winter” captures the serene beauty and reflective quality of nature during the cold months. The poem paints vivid imagery of the stark, bare trees and the quietude of the winter landscape. His use of language evokes a sense of stillness, allowing me to appreciate the subtle nuances of the season. The contrast between the vibrant life of summer and the somber tones of winter serves to highlight the cyclical nature of life and the beauty found within each phase.Woods in Winter by Henry Wadsworth LongfellowWhen winter winds are piercing chill, And through the hawthorn blows the gale,With solemn feet I tread the hill, That overbrows the lonely vale. O'er the bare upland, and away Through the long reach of desert woods,The embracing sunbeams chastely play, And gladden these deep solitudes. Where, twisted round the barren oak, The summer vine in beauty clung,And summer winds the stillness broke, The crystal icicle is hung. Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs Pour out the river's gradual tide,Shrilly the skater's iron rings, And voices fill the woodland side. Alas! how changed from the fair scene, When birds sang out their mellow lay,And winds were soft, and woods were green, And the song ceased not with the day! But still wild music is abroad, Pale, desert woods! within your crowd;And gathering winds, in hoarse accord, Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud.Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear Has grown familiar with your song;I hear it in the opening year, I listen, and it cheers me long.This poem is in the public domain.Photography and Recitation by Rebecca BuddMusic by Epidemic SoundSnow in June by Martin Landhhttps://www.epidemicsound.com/track/s90EMsFAMN/I love working with the Epidemic Sound team. I invite you to listen in at https://www.epidemicsound.com/referral/03ycqx

S5 E2 Surprised by Joy William Wordsworth Surprised by Joy’ is a heart-breaking poem written by William Wordsworth when recalling the grief of his daughter Catherine’s passing. The poem is written in the form of a sonnet, with the first eight lines describing his initial shock and disbelief, and the last six lines expressing his deep sorrow and regret. William Wordsworth experienced a great deal of pain throughout his life. His poem “Surprised by Joy” is an expressive piece that reflects on his life and his ability to find joy amidst grief. With his poetic words, he expresses surprise at the unexpected joy that came to him even when grieving.  He questions why he can feel joy when his daughter is no longer with him. William Wordsworth captures the emptiness of grief with words that express a profound understanding of loss.  Yet, there is joy. He reminds us that joy can be found in the most unexpected of places, bringing us back to a time of our most cherished memories. Surprised by Joy by William Wordsworth Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind  I turned to share the transport—Oh! with whom  But Thee, long buried in the silent Tomb,  That spot which no vicissitude can find?  Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind—  But how could I forget thee?—Through what power,  Even for the least division of an hour,  Have I been so beguiled as to be blind  To my most grievous loss!—That thought’s return  Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,  Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,  Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;  That neither present time, nor years unborn  Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.  Recitation and photography by Rebecca Budd Music by Gavin Luke “To the Moon and Beyond” #EpidemicSound https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/H6shp6f3WB/

S5 E1: Sea Fever by John Masefield Story-telling is the signature of humanity.  And the very best stories of all come from our poets. John Edward Masefield was a consummate story-teller.  Born in Ledbury in Herefordshire, England on June 1, 1878, he lost his parents at an early age and endured an unhappy education at the King’s School in Warwick. He escaped to the sea on board the HMS Conway for two reasons, the first one being to train for a life at sea. His second reason was more unusual: to break his addiction to reading because his aunt thought it was a wasteful pastime.  Instead of curbing his appetite for reading, the lengthy time at sea gave him the occasion to read and write.  His love of story-telling was cultivated when he listened to shipmates speak of the lore of the sea. John Masefield left the sea to become a writer.  It was not an easy road – he lived as a vagrant and accepted odd jobs, including an assistant to a bar keeper. He became Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom from 1930 until his death in 1967.  He rests in the Poets’ Corner in Westminster Abbey. Sea Fever is on my favourite list.  I especially identify with:  “And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover.”  In the end, it is our connections with friends and family that make life extraordinary. Sea Fever by John Masefield I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking, And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking, I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying. I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over. Photography by Rebecca Budd Music by Epidemic Sound “Follow Hidden Paths” By David Celeste https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/jwMyNWoEMi/

S4 E14: Sarah’s Gift Christmas is a time of gift giving, a moment when we cherish the bonds we share with one another. The gifts that stay fresh in my memory are those that originate from the soul, infused with genuine love and consideration. It’s not always the material items that leave a lasting impression, but the thoughtful gestures that illuminate the true spirit of the season. Several Christmases ago my sister Sarah gave me the gift of reciting the poem by Elinor Wylie, “Velvet Shoes”. Every December 25th, I reopen this gift and feel the love that made this gift. I invite you to open this gift with me. Velvet Shoes by Elinor Wylie Let us walk in the white snow In a soundless space; With footsteps quiet and slow, At a tranquil pace, Under veils of white lace. I shall go shod in silk, And you in wool, White as white cow’s milk, More beautiful Than the breast of a gull. We shall walk through the still town In a windless peace; We shall step upon white down, Upon silver fleece, Upon softer than these. We shall walk in velvet shoes: Wherever we go Silence will fall like dews On white silence below. We shall walk in the snow. The gift of this poem transcends time, evoking warmth and love each Christmas. Reopening this gift every year allows me to reflect on the love infused into it, much like the spirit of giving that connects us all during the holiday season. A kind word, a handwritten note, or simply the time spent together can mean more than any store-bought item. By sharing our love and appreciation, we create memories that will linger long after the holiday season has passed, reminding us of the beauty that lies within human connection. As we gather with loved ones, we celebrate not only our relationships but also the gift of life, which is precious and fleeting. I wish you the best of this special season. Rebecca Photography and Poetry Recitation by Sarah Ahmadi Music by Howard Harper-Barnes “Brave New World” https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/dV0kSPr2Ku/ #EpidemicSound

S4 E13: Up-Hill by Christina Rossetti - 1830-1894  As I walk along the winding path through a wooded area, I am reminded of Christina Rossetti’s contemplative poem “Up-Hill.” The tranquil surroundings mirror the metaphorical journey of life depicted in the poem. Christina Rossetti’s poem “Up-Hill” reflects on the journey of life using the metaphor of a traveler ascending a difficult road. The poem consists of a dialogue between the speaker and an unnamed interlocutor. This structure gives the poem a conversational tone, making the reader feel engaged in the questioning and answering. The repetitive questioning in the first three stanzas, with the consistent answer of hardship and struggle, creates a sense of inevitability about life’s challenges. The poem’s structure emphasizes the enduring nature of these difficulties. Conversely, the poem concludes with a reassuring tone as the answers become more positive, suggesting that there is rest, companionship, and comfort at the end of life’s journey. The imagery of the uphill road and the recurring questions about rest and companionship raises existential questions about the meaning of life and the afterlife. The poem also explores the universal themes of perseverance, faith, and the hope for solace in the face of life’s struggles. Up-Hill by Christina Rossetti Does the road wind up-hill all the way?     Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day?     From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place?     A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face?     You cannot miss that inn. Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?     Those who have gone before. Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?     They will not keep you standing at that door. Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?     Of labour you shall find the sum. Will there be beds for me and all who seek?     Yea, beds for all who come. Photography & Recitation by Rebecca Budd Music by Gavin Luke “The Departure” #EpidemicSound https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/xfBmgBPOSP/

S4 E12: Simple Pleasures - Haiku from the Place Just Right by Elizabeth Gauffreau Simple Pleasures Haiku from the Place Just Right”In “Simple Pleasures Haiku from the Place Just Right,” Elizabeth Gauffreau curates a profound collection of 53 haiku, each accompanied by a photograph memory. With a focus on nature and the serene landscapes of Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine, Liz invites us to embark on a sensory journey through her cherished places. The fusion of eloquent poetry and evocative imagery ensures that each haiku is a window into the intense beauty and tranquility of these natural settings. Reading Liz’s poetry is to revel in the pure joy found in the simple pleasures of nature.“Simple Pleasures” resonated with me. Liz’s evocative words intertwined with my own experiences. She speaks to our longing to find the place “just right.”Music by Epidemic Sound“Finding Melody” by Gavin Luke https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/Xlx96TspQP/

S4 E11: Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day By William Shakespeare Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:    So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare is perhaps one of the best-known and most-loved poems in the English language. It is part of the Fair Youth sequence, a series of sonnets that are addressed to a young man of great beauty. The sonnet’s opening line, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?,” immediately sets the tone for the poem. William Shakespeare goes on to describe how the beauty of the young man surpasses that of a summer’s day, which is often seen as the epitome of beauty and vitality. The use of imagery throughout the sonnet allows the reader to vividly imagine the young man’s timeless beauty. The poem also explores the theme of immortality through verse, as Shakespeare promises that the young man’s beauty will be preserved forever in his words. The concluding couplet, “So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, / So long lives this, and this gives life to thee,” further emphasizes the idea that the poem itself will ensure the young man’s enduring legacy. When I recite Sonnet 18 I feel a sense of awe and admiration for the enduring power of love and beauty, the timeless elegance and the transcendence of mortality. Giving voice to William Shakespeare’s words prompts a deep connection to the beauty of nature and an acknowledgment of the immortalizing effect of art and poetry. Music by Epidemic Sound Candelion “Anten Before Dawn” https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/oBHRGzcbsI/

S4 E10: August Moonrise by Sara Teasdale I am on a leisurely walk in a North Vancouver nature park. I feel the tranquil embrace of August enticing me to pause, and breathe deeply under the canopy of trees. I take out a poem by Sara Teasdale that I have chosen to recite to the stillness around me – August Moonrise. Celebrating the coming of August with Sara Teasdale Welcome to a serene exploration of Sara Teasdale’s profound literary legacy amidst the tranquil beauty of August. Nature’s Transcendence In this poignant poem, Sara Teasdale departs from her previous themes of love and loss, delving into the post-World War I disillusionment and embracing a more existential tone. The speaker’s immersion in the beauty of nature provides a brief respite from the harsh realities of life. The vivid imagery of the moonrise and the forest evokes a profound sense of awe and wonder, while the questioning of the soul’s existence is juxtaposed with the solace found in the belief that beauty can transcend death. Through this lens, the poem stands as a testament to the enduring power of nature to inspire and provide meaning in the face of life’s uncertainties. August Moonrise by Sara Teasdale The sun was gone, and the moon was coming Over the blue Connecticut hills; The west was rosy, the east was flushed, And over my head the swallows rushed This way and that, with changeful wills. I heard them twitter and watched them dart Now together and now apart Like dark petals blown from a tree; The maples stamped against the west Were black and stately and full of rest, And the hazy orange moon grew up And slowly changed to yellow gold While the hills were darkened, fold on fold To a deeper blue than a flower could hold. Down the hill I went, and then I forgot the ways of men, For night-scents, heady, and damp and cool Wakened ecstasy in me On the brink of a shining pool. O Beauty, out of many a cup You have made me drunk and wild Ever since I was a child, But when have I been sure as now That no bitterness can bend And no sorrow wholly bow One who loves you to the end? And though I must give my breath And my laughter all to death, And my eyes through which joy came, And my heart, a wavering flame; If all must leave me and go back Along a blind and fearful track So that you can make anew, Fusing with intenser fire, Something nearer your desire; If my soul must go alone Through a cold infinity, Or even if it vanish, too, Beauty, I have worshipped you. Let this single hour atone For the theft of all of me. This poem is in the public domain. Thank you, dear listeners, for embracing the timeless beauty of Sara Teasdale’s “August Moonrise” with me. Your presence added depth and warmth to this poetic journey, enriching our shared experience amidst the time of August. May we continue to cherish the profound themes of love, nature, and existential contemplation woven eloquently by Teasdale’s pen. Here’s to many more moments of poetic inspiration together. Photography and Recitation by Rebecca Budd Location: Lower Seymour Conservation Reserve, North Vancouver Music by Epidemic Sound “Colors in Movement” By Johannes Bornlöf https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/Pomv6C3lbP/

S4 E9: Change on Change by Elizabeth Barrett Browing Welcome to Poetry in the Evening. We are connected to nature in ways that cannot be fully understood. Poetry allows us to explore the relationship with the world around us. “Change on Change’ by Elizabeth Barrett Browning is a poem about lost love and change envisioned through the lens of changing seasons. Love flourished through spring and summer, but when the cooler winds of autumn arrive, there has been a parting, a loss. What is left is the sound of the river and the blush on the poet’s cheeks. With every transition, we are influenced by the events and experiences that have occurred. As winter comes nearer, the poet recognizes that she is no longer the person of the spring and summer months. Transitions hold emotional nuances that have a poignancy that brings both sadness for what was, but also joy for what has been gained as we move forward. I invite you to join me in reciting, Change on Change by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 1.  Three months ago, the stream did flow,     The lilies bloomed along the edge; And we were lingering to and fro,— Where none will track thee in this snow,     Along the stream, beside the hedge. Ah! sweet, be free to come and go;     For if I do not hear thy foot,     The frozen river is as mute,—     The flowers have dried down to the root;     And why, since these be changed since May,         Shouldst thou change less than they?  2. And slow, slow as the winter snow,     The tears have drifted to mine eyes; And my two cheeks, three months ago, Set blushing at thy praises so,     Put paleness on for a disguise. Ah! sweet, be free to praise and go;     For if my face is turned to pale,     It was thine oath that first did fail,—     It was thy love proved false and frail!     And why, since these be changed, I trow,         Should I change less than thou? This poem is in the public domain.  Recitation and photography by Rebecca Budd Music by Trevor Kowalski “Courage Endures” #EpidemicSound https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/qrx7ztOb5O/

S4 E8: Three Girls by Hazel Hall Hazel Hall (1886 - 1924) was an American poet born in Saint Paul, Minnesota on February 7, 1886, and raised in Portland, Oregon. She is often described as the "Emily Dickinson of Oregon" due to her introspective and lyrical poetry, as well as her reclusive lifestyle. Hazel’s work often explored themes of nature, beauty, and the inner world of emotions. Her poetry received recognition for its depth and imagery, contributing to the literary landscape of the Pacific Northwest during the early 20th century. Poem “Three Girls” by Hazel Hall Three school-girls pass this way each day: Two of them go in the fluttery way Of girls, with all that girlhood buys; But one goes with a dream in her eyes, Two of them have the eyes of girls Whose hair is learning scorn of curls, But the eyes of one are like wide doors Opening out on misted shores. And they will go as they go to-day On to the end of life’s short way; Two will have what living buys, And one will have the dream in her eyes. Two will die as many must, And fitly dust will welcome dust; But dust has nothing to do with one — She dies as soon as her dream is done. The poem “Three Girls” depicts the contrasting paths of three schoolgirls as they navigate through life. It portrays the dreams and aspirations of one girl set apart from the others, emphasizing the idea of pursuing individual dreams and the potential hardships that may accompany such pursuits. The poem reflects on themes of resilience, determination, and the significance of following one’s unique aspirations, despite societal expectations. “Three Girls” underscores the lasting impact of the choices individuals make and the distinct outcomes that may result from these choices. Overall, the poem serves as a reflection on the complexities of human ambition and the diverse trajectories that unfold in the journey of life. Recitation by Rebecca Budd Three Girls Image created by Rebecca Budd using Bing Co-pilot from a prompt "three girls in 1800's attire in field of flowers) Music by Epidemic Sound David Celeste “Planting the Seeds” https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/IBlGXBtUbu/

S4 E7: The Rabbit Hole - A Short Story by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene’s “The Rabbit Hole – A Short Story” offers an exciting retelling of the timeless classic, “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” by Lewis Carroll. In this reimagining, readers are taken on a journey through a fantastical realm, guided by Teagan’s distinctive narrative style and imaginative storytelling. “The Rabbit Hole” introduces a fresh perspective to the beloved tale, weaving together whimsical elements with the rich tapestry of Carroll’s original work. Through Teagan’s creative lens, the familiar characters and settings of Wonderland come alive in a way that both honours the essence of the original story and adds new layers of depth and intrigue. With skillful prose and an evident reverence for the source material, Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene’s retelling invites readers to rediscover the wonder and magic of Wonderland while experiencing a unique and enchanting literary adventure. I invite you to listen in to Teagan's"The Rabbit Hole - A Short Story! Music by Epidemic Sound Arthur Benson "Stay Whimsical" https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/CzXKh5aj7v/ Arthur Benson "How to Tango" https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/bf1W6dALwc/ Arthur Benson "Jello Walking" https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/LGLwURMzSt/ Arthur Benson "Tiny Footsteps" https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/x0o9cgWUve/ Jon Björk "Floating on a Summer Breeze" https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/tQQ0pPHEhU/

S4 E6: “June” by Douglas Malloch Welcome to the month of June. What better way to celebrate than with poetry. I have chosen a poem by Douglas Malloch (May 5, 1877 – July 2, 1938)  which is dedicated to the month of June. The poem is entitled simply, “June.” June by Douglas Malloch I knew that you were coming, June, I knew that you were coming! Among the alders by the stream I heard a partridge drumming; I heard a partridge drumming, June, a welcome with his wings, And felt a softness in the air half Summer’s and half Spring’s. I knew that you were nearing, June, I knew that you were nearing— I saw it in the bursting buds of roses in the clearing; The roses in the clearing, June, were blushing pink and red, For they had heard upon the hills the echo of your tread. I knew that you were coming, June, I knew that you were coming, For ev’ry warbler in the wood a song of joy was humming. I know that you are here, June, I know that you are here— The fairy month, the merry month, the laughter of the year! Douglas Malloch (May 5, 1877 – July 2, 1938) was an American poet, short-story writer, and Associate Editor of American Lumberman magazine. He was known for his poems that celebrated the virtues of the lumberjack and the natural world. Malloch’s work often reflected his deep admiration for the outdoors and the rugged individuals who worked in the logging industry. Photography and Poetry Recitation by Rebecca Budd Music by Epidemic Sound Christoffer Moe Ditlevsen “Soul Temple” https://www.epidemicsound.com/track/QFGbmsiLoc/