My first/George's third birthday party. Notice the bull and matador. How come I didn't have toys like that? My favourite toy...

Guaranteed to make mealtime . . . interesting. I had been smart. I had managed to find two of each of the four patterns of the Campb...

Summer has come to Edmonton!!! We have a fire pit. The gathering place for our family for every day of the summer. When the weather a...

My Hero. It’s happened. For forty years, we were knee-deep in cossetting a career, raising kids, paying bills, grooming a home and li...

I love a good mystery. Let me rephrase. I LOVE a good mystery! A page-turner that simply won't let you put it down. With a plot a...

Home To a globe trotter, I am wed, His in-ter-ests are quite widespread, And so this rancher girl has found That, with her man, s...

More of the story, as told by my Mom, Enes. From her journals . . . Part One .  Part Two .  Part Three .  Part Four.   Part Five .  Par...

More of the story, as told by my Mom, Enes. From her journals . . . Part One .  Part Two .  Part Three .  Part Four.   Part Five . Part...

More of the story, as told by my Mom, Enes. From her journals . . . Part One .  Part Two .  Part Three .  Part Four.   Part Five . ...

More of the story, as told by my Mom, Enes. From her journals . . . Part One .  Part Two .  Part Three .  Part Four. Mom's ...

Summer in a Quonset Part Four Coldest summer on record - and no heat! In the summer of 1968, my parents sold our home ranch out ...

Yep. We were living in the feed lot. In the summer of 1968, my parents sold our home ranch out on the south fork of the Milk River, an...

For Poetry Monday, a poem about past vacations . . . Each summer, since the dawn of time, We’d pack our kids and dogs and gear W...

In the summer of 1968, my parents sold our home ranch out on the south fork of the Milk River, and bought another place nearer to town. ...

Everything Under Construction In the summer of 1968, my parents sold our home ranch out on the south fork of the Milk River, and...

This may sound like bragging. Okay, it is . . . Our second son was in grade three. He loved it. He was a good student and the teach...