My Blog

As a Saskatchewan writer, what is our relationship to the land, to place — where is home? It’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately, for a host of reasons. The first reason being winter, of course. Many writers find solitude in the written word during the...

Day 111 - A Snippet Once a year, the small cafe with steel countertops serves a menagerie of pie; Jack Daniels and sticky walnut, lemon with meringue that beads to the roof of your mouth, pumpkin with an ever-so-crunchy lard crust; all in celebration of a day just for...

Here's a nice little snippet of things to come: 273 Days. Here's to 2025.  - Miguel F. | Day 222 out of 273 Days | Her home just off the main drag in Prince George serves as a museum for me. The walls — faint egg yolk, dying sunlight, tarnished daisy yellow — are...

  The frostbitten heifer with a pink peeling nose is hauled up the steps of the silver-haired farmer's steps, clunk, clunk, clunk. The two bedroom farm house is a mirage of gold in the screaming whorl of snow eviscerating the formerly flat and stubbled fields...

Penultimate in her revelation, life oozes from the apex of the woman lying in the truck bed beneath stars.   Red-hot, startled, she explores the bulging buds, heavy with sap, virginal and exposed, a mirror of mother Gaia.   She runs her fingers along the...