Category: Marilyn Story

By the time the roast chicken came out of the oven, I had already washed my face and hands and was seated at the kitchen table, waiting for Mother to dish out supper on my plate. In the centre of the table…

  Mother and Dad were married in 1946, and for their first four years, they lived a peaceful life in a house they rented in Debert, Nova Scotia. In early spring of 1950, they purchased a farm with quite a bit of…

It was the fall of 2017, and for the first time in decades, I wasn’t sure I could host Thanksgiving. My mother had passed away on October 2nd—just two weeks earlier. The house felt different somehow, like all the air had been…

Thanksgiving, also known as “Turkey Day,” in 1954, was one I shall never forget. I remember Mom telling me that around midnight, Grandmother would be up making the stuffing, then seasoning the turkey before she stuffed it, then she’d get Grandpa to…

The staff had named her Annabelle. For weeks, she remained invisible to those who passed by her cage at our local SPCA. On a cool day in January, my husband and I strolled through all three of the cat rooms housing over…

Another Marilyn Memory

Father was still working the farm in 1956, and that fall after the hay crop had been taken off the field, my brother and I asked if we could gather up any loose hay left on the field to make a hay…

Lessons from Our Childhood Store

Life’s Too Short for Grumpy Aging

A Farm Fiasco

As a four-year-old, whenever I saw beautiful flowers—also known to adults as weeds—I’d pick them, roots, bugs, and all, and bring them to my mother. She would always stop what she was doing, cut the roots off, shake out the bugs, and…

Mother’s pantry, just off the kitchen, wasn’t very big. There was just enough room for the wringer washing machine on the left as you entered, and the flour barrel to the right of the doorway that led to our playroom (which later…

(and a Good Story)