Those Winter Sundays

Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he’d call, and slowly IContinue reading “Those Winter Sundays”

Snow Day

Growing up in the countryside of south-western Ontario, we definitely knew what winter was all about. We were bussed to school and the drivers were fearless. Some could navigate the unplowed roads and through near blow outs as they had driven the roads every day for years. I can recall one day having a neighbourContinue reading “Snow Day”