Field Notes
Field Notes are where I slow down.
They are the place where I write by hand with a fountain pen, or sit quietly at a keyboard and allow one story to unfold. Unlike conversations, which move like rivers, a field note follows a single current. It begins with a moment—a walk, a conversation, a photograph, a question—and stays with it long enough to discover what it has to say.
Some begin in the notebook I carry everywhere. Others emerge after walking through a city, sitting in a café, or returning home from an unexpected conversation. They are written rather than spoken because writing asks something different of me. It asks me to choose one thread from the many that are always moving through my mind and follow it wherever it leads.
Elsewhere in The Leeça Space you’ll find conversations, recordings, interviews, and longer reflections. Those often begin in dialogue and wander freely from one idea to another. Field Notes are different. They are quieter. More deliberate. They are the practice of paying attention.
Some remain exactly as they are. Others gradually become essays, photographs, podcasts, or grow into Land & Lives.
Every larger work begins here.
Field Notes : Two Hours at 30,000 Feet
Sometimes the richest part of a journey isn’t where you’re going. It’s the person sitting beside you.
On my flight home from Newfoundland, I met Michel.
It began with a simple observation about airplane wings and, over the next two hours, unfolded into a conversation about aviation, family, education, politics, religion, curiosity, and what it means to grow older without ever losing the desire to learn. Some conversations stay with us long after we’ve reached our destination. This was one of them.
Field Notes from St. John’s: A City That Creates What It Needs
What makes a city feel creative? In St. John’s, I found the answer wasn’t in museums or galleries alone. It was in colourful streets, independent shops, conversations with strangers, and a chef who summed up the city’s spirit in one simple sentence: “They were missing a tapas restaurant. Now they have one.”
Field Notes: The World at the End of the Road
Sometimes the world doesn’t arrive through airports or famous landmarks. Sometimes it walks into a nail salon in St. John’s. A conversation with a woman from Ukraine and another from China became a quiet reminder that even at the eastern edge of Canada, lives from around the globe intersect in unexpected and deeply human ways.
Field Note: Coming Home
While hiking a trail in Newfoundland, I met a retired pipeline worker enjoying the day with his daughter and grandchildren. What began as a conversation about the dogs became a reflection on work, raising a family, and the enduring pull of home. Sometimes the most meaningful stories aren’t about politics or industry—they’re about the people who live between them.
Field Note: A Four-Wheeler and a Conversation
A young man stopped his four-wheeler to chat while I walked the dogs along a quiet lighthouse trail. What began as a conversation about dogs became a story about family, fishing, and finding your own way to contribute. Sometimes the most meaningful stories aren’t planned—they simply appear when we slow down long enough to listen.
Field Note: The Man Beside Me
A chance conversation with a mining supervisor on a flight to Labrador became a reflection on curiosity, artificial intelligence, lifelong learning, and the unexpected wisdom found in the stranger sitting beside you.
Field Note: Between Québec and Newfoundland
A simple change of seats on a flight from Québec City to Montréal led to an unexpected conversation about Canada, travel, politics, and the quiet connections that remind us we’re never truly travelling alone.
Field Notes: Quiet Gratitude for Canada
It’s easy to notice what’s broken. It’s harder to remember what quietly holds us together. A reflection on gratitude, perspective, and the ordinary Canadians whose lives form the tapestry of this remarkable country.
The Music we Carry
A quiet piano concert leads me back through a lifetime of memories—from my father’s records and the music of the 1980s to unexpected friendships, heartbreak, and the songs that have quietly accompanied each chapter of my life.
At the Greenhouse
I went to Île d’Orléans to buy flowers and came home thinking about something entirely different. A conversation with a couple who have spent more than fifty years working the land became a reminder that every beautiful place is shaped not only by its landscape, but by the people who devote their lives to it.
Finding My Way Home
A year ago, I wasn’t sure where I would land. This first field note follows the twists and turns that eventually brought me to this beautiful home overlooking the Parc des Braves in Quebec City, a place that has slowly begun to feel like home. Read the story or settle in and listen to the audio postcard.