Sweet, sweet Chris From my earliest memories, Chris was there. The ideal big sister. Patient, kind, and endlessly watching over us younge...

Hot times in the Old Town. Milk River 6:45 am. When most of the world still sleeps, or is just beginning to stir, the ranching familie...

Stringam Family - not a speedo in the bunch! In the Tolley household, Christmas . . . the actual ‘business portion’ which includes frant...

Grant and Diane The very early days of marriage, of most marriages, in fact, are days of exploration and discovery. Of the combination of...

Gramma and Grampa Berg It was a magical time. Gramma Berg was staying over. For days and days. And she could always be counted on for a s...

The Hill The Stringam ranch buildings were ringed on three sides by high cliffs, and dominated on the fourth by a high hill. As a result...

What was left of the barn October second. My birthday. A time of reflection and renewal. Time to reminisce. It was exactly 53 years ago...

Me Poppa and me Though we lived at the back of beyond, the modern world did, at times, actually intrude. Certainly, it was there in the...

My elder siblings. Before they were elder. I was witnessing a miracle. My brother, George, was on a horse. Voluntarily. The pro...

Not me. (Daddy, Chris, Jerry and George) Harvest. A mellow time. A time to catch one’s breath and simply appreciate the bounty and euphor...

Mom, Chris and Jerry Mom was a gardener. One of those . . . mmmajor gardeners. I’m almost certain that her garden produced enough to fe...

The Stringam Wagon Train I love horses. All horses. So much that I ate, breathed and slept horses. Literally. On the ranch, everythi...

Straingam Ranch We had a dog. Mike. He was a big dog. Saint Bernard. Very protective. He thought nothing of risking his very life defendi...

Daddy, George and I My Dad had made me a new toy. It was a large - very large button on a string. Intriguing. You would thread a lo...

Being the baby is hard work! My very first memory occurred when I was two. To tell the truth, I’m not sure if it is a real memory, or if ...

The new barn I was privileged to grow up on one of the last of the large old ranches in Southern Alberta. Situated half way between the t...