If you could eat color, how would yellow taste?

Sometimes working for peace means standing still. These Windsor, Ontario Women In Black have been standing vigil for peace every Wednesday--in stifling heat, snow blizzards and pouring rain--since November 2002. Their silent witness is changing more minds and hearts than they will ever know.

It is said that your favorite childhood books have life lessons you need to learn. "The Little Engine That Could" and "Little Toot" were my favorites.

I was small in stature and identified with Little Toot, the tugboat, and Little Engine, the train, both of whom were ridiculed for not being able to do the work of the bigger, more businesslike tugs and train engines. That is, until a crisis occurred and none of the others could help. Then the Little Engine with its "I think I can...I think I can" and Little Toot with its smoke-belching SOS and its creative way of skipping across the tops of the angry waves, saved the day. All the passengers cheered and the other tugs and engines came to respect their smaller colleagues.

Little Toot and the Little Engine That Could have been my models when life has presented me with daunting tasks. And, like the Little Engine, I have always ended up saying "I thought I could...I thought I could." Little Toot has taught me to use my own unique gifts and to think outside the box.

So what were your favorite childhood books?

Day lilies sing of summer.

Want to eat healthy AND support your local farmers? Check out the Land Stewardship Project.

Humor is our best friend.

Why do we think we must improve on nature? What’s wrong with a suburban wilderness?

I fear my mind has a storage area just as messy as this.

On this first full day of summer, let us pledge to savor the hot and muggy days to come. When we’re tempted to whine, let us remember February.

Truth pierces the darkness of lies with shards of light. Sometimes you must squint your eyes to see it.

Everything is more fun when done with friends.

A deserted urban park looks like a ghost of itself. Only people can bring it to life.

Since getting my tattoo of Mother Earth three days ago I have been with persons from Lebanon, Iraq, Yemen, Palestine, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, Nigeria, Kenya, the United Kingdom, Mexico, the Ukraine, British Columbia, Quebec, Nova Scotia and Ontario. Could it be that this tattoo has issued an open invitation to my sisters and brothers around the world? I hope so.

Whoever said that old age is a time to slow down and relax has obviously not seen the Raging Grannies in action!

Does the maple tree get discouraged when so few of its seeds take root? If it doesn't, why should we?

What nectar do you crave? For me, it's peace.

The moon sees all, says nothing
and knows its place.
The silent observer of life.

Would that we were all fortunate enough to have a nurturing Dad upon whom to lean.

In some Native American cultures the dragonfly represents illusions. I fear it's time for this four-winged creature to replace the eagle as our national symbol.

Want to be a peacemaker? Invite Osadia to work their magic and you'll find that everyone responds to you with smiles and laughter. Green sculptured hair and glitter make-up breaks down all barriers!

This is how "We the people" look--diverse in age, race, religion, class, national origin, and sexual orientation. Aren't we beautiful?

May our sisters and brothers in Iraq be protected from harm. May we do all we can to end their suffering. May all wars, especially those for which we share responsibility, cease.

Where do you find hope if you live in Baghdad?

Loved yet lost, this little bear awaits the return of its beloved.

An anthropologist I met recently posed an interesting question: Why do we use the generic term "Africa" when discussing issues like AIDS? Isn't each country worthy of our notice?

The first and last rose of summer may look the same but the feelings they elicit are very different.

A circle of stones grounds us in the here and now.

Children are the most natural of our species.

If there is a flower more sensuous than an iris, I've yet to see it.

Sr. Elizabeth LaForest (seated) at her 91st birthday party on May 31, 2006. Beside her is Luella Bassett, her cellmate back in 1992 when they spent two months in jail for nonviolent actions taken to protest nuclear arms. How many of us would do the same today, much less when we’re 77 years old, as Elizabeth was then?