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...
