Little Things

Little Things

A tribute to my Moms – Eleanor and Betty. Mothers do little things, day after day after day. Often no one sees or notices or understands why, until the children themselves plunge into parenthood and start doing those little things, like Mom did. If you could...
Elevated

Elevated

An ordinary machine that rose to unusual heights. Sounds crazy but I would love to hear the loud metal-on-metal screech of our old farm elevator. The din would whisk me back fifty years. Mom and Dad would be young, vital, strong, and we would smile, joke, and work...
The Bracebridge Farm

The Bracebridge Farm

Introducing the family farm in Muskoka where my husband, John, tasted summers of old-time farming. You would think that walking through hundreds of forested acres looking for delinquent milk cows would be intimidating for a kid from Toronto, yet John felt at home on...
The New Playground

The New Playground

My Mom’s intense delight in animals of every kind led my sister and I on trips of discovery with all our barnyard animals and pets. She would come and get us, “Dad’s going to let the newest baby pigs out for the first time! Do you want to watch?” “Yeah!” And we rushed...
Winter Artistry

Winter Artistry

Wind howls, relentless against the walls, shaking siding, buffeting branches, and toppling trellises. Blasts swirl, shrill and piercing, dodging through gingerbread, and clawing at windows and doors. But the wind is not alone. It comes armed with furious white teeth,...
The B Solo

The B Solo

Dark towering clouds rumbled and flashed in the distance while our field lay littered with fresh hay bales. The pressure was on – the harvest had to be inside before the rain hit. Each small bale, weighing maybe 50 to 60 pounds, had to be loaded one by one onto a...

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