Stories
Elevated
An ordinary machine that rose to unusual heights. Sounds crazy but I would love to hear the loud metal-on-metal screech of our old farm elevator. The din would whisk me back fifty years. Mom and Dad would be young, vital, strong, and we would smile, joke, and work...
The Bracebridge Farm
Introducing the family farm in Muskoka where my husband, John, tasted summers of old-time farming. You would think that walking through hundreds of forested acres looking for delinquent milk cows would be intimidating for a kid from Toronto, yet John felt at home on...
The New Playground
My Mom’s intense delight in animals of every kind led my sister and I on trips of discovery with all our barnyard animals and pets. She would come and get us, “Dad’s going to let the newest baby pigs out for the first time! Do you want to watch?” “Yeah!” And we rushed...
Winter Artistry
Wind howls, relentless against the walls, shaking siding, buffeting branches, and toppling trellises. Blasts swirl, shrill and piercing, dodging through gingerbread, and clawing at windows and doors. But the wind is not alone. It comes armed with furious white teeth,...
Toads
I have two toads living in my cellar. It is an old farmhouse with an amazing stone foundation. I’m not exactly sure how they got in (rather unnerving if I think too much on that) but the toads are happy and healthy. “Don’t put them outside, they’re eating the...
The B Solo
Dark towering clouds rumbled and flashed in the distance while our field lay littered with fresh hay bales. The pressure was on – the harvest had to be inside before the rain hit. Each small bale, weighing maybe 50 to 60 pounds, had to be loaded one by one onto a...
The Chesapeake’s Retrieval
The unseasonably warm day begged me to open windows and banish the winter staleness from our old farmhouse. The March breeze still had a bite so the whole family bundled up to enjoy the weather. Looking forward to nestling against crisp fresh-smelling cotton, I washed...
The Robin’s Gamble
Each summer the front deck of our old farmhouse engages in a territorial battle with an ancient lilac bush. In early spring new saplings sprout up through the floor boards from deep roots and new branches invade through the railing from the side. If I don’t hack away...
A Moth Moment
I scrambled out of bed, my heart pounding. I’d hit the snooze button too many times and now I would be late! I wanted to feed the chickens before my shower so I threw on a pair of old pants and a T-shirt, trotted down the old farmhouse stairs, stepped into my barn...
Dad’s Shadow
I peeked through the doorway of the small red feed room then climbed into the dimly lit space, my nose full of the rich wholesome fragrance of milled corn, wheat, oats and barley. I sidled up to the figure stooped in the low-ceiled room, “What you doin’ Dad?” "Getting...
About Susan
I love stories – reading, writing, listening, watching. I’ve always had a creative spark (my mind contrives twisted plots for fun) but working in the business world doesn’t leave much room for individual artistic flair. So after working in different businesses for 35 years, I’ve taken a detour onto the creative side.
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