Notice the trees. Please. When I was fourteen, Dad decided to combine the best of all worlds. He sold the old family ranch twenty mi...

A poem. Because it's been . . . you know . . . hours since my last one! My Sister. She only looks tough. In youth, I was a dari...

My older sister and me. Oh, and George. And part of Dad And a little bit of Jerry and Blair. The food had been, as per Mom’s usual sta...

C'mon. Give us a snuggle. Porcupines. Not so cute and cuddly any more. Or ever. Maybe I should explain . . . On a ranch, ...

Okay, it was scary. But it turned out all right . . . Our family have always been swimmers. Our children are introduced to the water...

Grandpa: George Lewis Stringam Throughout his life, my Grandpa Stringam, a rancher, politician, husband, father and friend, was know...

Dad was making a trip into town to see Mr. Hovan. His insurance agent. My brother, George, and I fought over who would be the first in...

Quick! Take a picture! In Southern Alberta, in the sixties, the country roads were more a suggestion than an actual fact. Sketchy at...

In our corner of the world, in winter, the nights are very long. For a period of time, the street lights are coming on when the scho...

 Daddy and Me It's winter. I'm dreaming of spring . . . Spring had finally arrived at the ranch. Let me describ...

Okay. How can we complicate this . . . My Dad went to veterinarian college in Guelph, Ontario. Some time during the Dark Ages. Oka...

Something for Everyone! My Husby's father was a wonderful man. Generous Cheerful. Loving. Devoted to his numerous offsprin...

A poem. Because . . . The water's there.  The yeast is, too. The sugar, eggs and oil. A pinch of salt.  Some scoops of flour. ...