As a teenager, I had an image of my adult self. I wanted a job where I carried a briefcase and wore a suit. The message I’d received was girls could do it all – have a successful career, happy family life and an immaculate home too. I was reminded recently of the...
I grew up with pickup trucks. Mud-spattered farm trucks with hay on the floorboards, camping trucks with a Coleman stove and cooler stashed in the back and small-town trucks, washed and polished for Saturday night dates and tailgate parties. I also grew up with one...
My mom was a knitter. The gentle click of her knitting needles was as much a part of my childhood as the books we shared, her chocolate chip cookies and the touch of her hand soothing all manner of ailments. She was descended from a long line of knitters and crafters...
I’m in Canada this month, reconnecting with special people and places, thinking about where I come from and how it influences my writing. I know I’m in Canada when I… Glimpse my dad in my cousin’s face, my grandmother in the blue of his daughter’s eyes. Watch the...
In the UK, we’re preparing to mark the centenary of the start of the First World War. For most of us, August 1914 is many lifetimes away. Yet, I’m fortunate to have a connection with one of those lifetimes. It’s part of the web of family and...
