Tag Archives: Wild Iris Coffee House

Why I’m Grateful for Yoga Pants, Costco, Eavesdropping and Other Things

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grateful-heart

I’m Grateful For:

1. Sweatpants and yoga capri pants~ These are the pants that make you feel alive by their sheer comfort. Even if you don’t do yoga, it’s okay to wear yoga pants (I’m almost sure). And the older you are, the less concerned you are about yoga and the more concerned you are about comfort. That’s the beauty of it.

Why are these women laughing? They aren't wearing yoga pants. They also probably don't shop at Costco.

Why are these women laughing? They aren’t wearing yoga pants. They must be laughing through their pain.

2. Costco~ A guest hollered at me from inside my bathroom,  “Hey Bronwyn, you’re out of toilet paper!” This unfortunate crisis occurred in the pre-Costco days and caught me off guard. read more

Taking Walks Where the Wild Things Are

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(Warning: the following info is on my author page. But in case you haven’t gone back to that page, thought I’d share.)

 Author bio, Bronwyn Wilson

Missionary to the coffee-deprived; seeker of humor in everyday life; slave to two cats; passionate gardener, writer, traveler, shoe-shopper, lover of walks where the wild things are, like egrets and great blue herons.

 

Butchart Gardens in Victoria, B.C. feels like wandering inside a beautiful painting. My favorite spot in the world.

A visit to Butchart Gardens in Victoria, B.C. feels like wandering inside a beautiful painting. My favorite spot in the world.

 How my life calling as a writer began:

I wrote my first novel in the fourth grade, an edge-of-your seat story titled, When Baby Goes A Strollering. I stole the title from a magazine advertisement. My story opens with 10-year-old cub scouts hiking past a house and suddenly noticing flames spewing from the windows. With no concern of their cub scout uniforms getting singed, the twins sprint into the burning home and rescue a baby girl. My paperback novel had a cover made of construction paper with magazine cut-out illustrations. I never sent it to a publisher or showed it to anyone other than my mom, (and so the world missed out on this, my first literary work). read more