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: 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 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.
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.