Okay. Picture them a little more tousled and windblown . . . The wind blows in Southern Alberta. And I don't mean blows in the...

Debbie. Mischief, mayhem and entertainment in one package. In college, I shared a two-bedroom apartment with three other girls. De...

Go on. Give it a pull! Life on a ranch is glorious. Open, endless vistas. Fresh air. Time with your family. And endless hou...

He found a bottle in the sand, It wouldn't qualify as grand, He took it home, because he could, And it upon his mantle stood. ...

Dedicated to our beloved Shirley. Who gave us ten more years with our dad! Shirley. Gramma and her little beans. Great Gramma and h...

On May 28, 2015, we said good-bye to Daddy. We've told stories and laughed and cried. Now we have the memories . . . Mark R...

For once, he’d   listened   to his wife, How to ameliorate her life, And he went without delay, To take her on a holiday. But...

Supplier of kindliness. And food. The Stringam ranch was a large spread situated some twenty miles from the town of Milk River, Alber...

I wait for summer all year long, The sun, the green, the birdies' song, The kids out playing. Hills and dells, But most of ...

My Grandpa as I remember him. With my older siblings, Chris and Jerry.  My Grandpa, George Lewis Stringam, was born in 1876, in Holde...

I’m not tech savvy. My students would shudder when I picked up a TV remote—an action inevitably followed by the frenzied pressing of butto...

I admit it, I'm a homebody. This pandemic hasn't changed my lifestyle much at all. I hated to go out before. I hate to go out now....

You want me to eat what . . .? My Dad always claimed to be allergic to onions. Whenever he ordered any burger, he always asked them to...

It’s quiet. That, in itself, should be cause for alarm. Sally is, after all, home. And where Sally is, there goes Mort also. Twice...

Notice the cute little boys. One with hair. One with . . . cheeks. Ignore the glasses. When I was expecting my second son, I craved an...