Stories
Brave Little Friend
Goodbye my faithful friend, my constant shadow. I'll never again smooth the fine hair around your eyes and ears, or rub your belly between your front legs the way you love. Never again be exasperated by your leaping frenzied greeting when I come home at the end of the...
Natural Respect
My stomach clenched, my hands gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, my brain addled by the whirling of my head front to back side to side, my left leg ached with tension as it hovered over the clutch pedal. And yet I was proud, so proud of what I was doing,...
Have Steam, Will Travel
Tons of black iron crept almost soundlessly out of Ernie's driveway, hissing, smoke billowing, gravel crunching under it's enormous weight. A mass of levers and gauges allowed the driver to direct the steam power boiling within. At the controls, our cousin Ernie was...
The Rhubarb Incident
Mom stood looking out the big east kitchen window of our red brick farm house, “Susan! Look out the window, Cheryl’s outside with Blackie. Leading him in the rain!” I dropped my library book, uncurled my legs and jumped up in one quick movement, pressing my face...
The Bonfire Mission
Mom bustled around the kitchen checking supplies, preparing food - she was on a mission. I was busy playing with my toys, ignoring grownup stuff, but I could hear her dialing the black rotary phone that hung in the kitchen, talking to relatives, inviting them over....
Building of a Corn Crib
This series of pictures shows the building of a corncrib including homemade lumber at our cousin's sawmill across the road, circa 1962 (?). My dad, Walter, with an oak log from our bush: The sawmill at cousin Ernie's: Cutting our lumber: Preparing the footing:...
Spring Cleaning
Fiery tongues crept across the thick mat of dead grass, licking away all the dry stems and leaves. Like a battle front, the line moved roughly in unison with no possible retreat. Footsteps of flame crackled and snapped. The commander stood surveying his scorching...
A Mulberry Afternoon
Sun-speckled shadows shifted in the summer breeze. A deeper shade of purple surrounded the old mulberry tree. The berries were ripe and ready for plucking. Maybe that old tree alongside Ernie's lane had been planted by a passing bird, or maybe tenderly planted and...
February Miracles
In the cold, bitter days of February the small miracles would arrive - about a dozen piglets per sow. On the evenings when the expectant moms were in labour, I was allowed to stay up late in the barn with mom and dad. I was under strict instructions to be quiet as a...
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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