I’ve been working on this project for quite some time and finally have a cover to share. This may or may not be the final cover. Let me know what you think.
This is the blurb for You Can Take The Girl From The Prairie
A collection of short stories inspired by growing up on a prairie farm in the fifties and sixties. Some humorous and others sad, but all heartfelt. Stories about family life, cowboy wisdom, immigrant grandmothers, an inspiring teacher, and the arrival of a new sibling are part of this collection of tales from another time and another place. Proof that you can take the girl from the prairie but you can’t take the prairie from the girl.
I am hoping to publish this collection of short stories soon. Watch this space.
I am pleased to be featured on Judith Barrow’s blog where I share a memory of a different time and place. Judith is an accomplished writer of family sagas and runs this wonderful “places in our memories” series on her blog.
There are places that remain in our memories, the details may become slightly blurred, nostalgia may colour our thoughts, but they don’t fade. And how those places made us feel at the time is the one thing that remains.
Today I’m welcoming Darlene Foster, a friend I’ve known online for quite a while, and had the great pleasure in meeting and getting to know her in real life at Barb Taub’s writing retreat on Arran, a few weeks ago.
Darlene is here to tell us about the time her baby brother was born during the blizzards at her near Medicine Hat, Alberta, Canada.
I remember when my brother, Timothy, was born. It had been a typical cold and snowy prairie winter. Blizzards created impassable road conditions. Mom expected the third member of our family to arrive in early February. Dad was concerned that when the time came, the…
My blogging friend, Beetley Pete, has been running a series of posts featuring photographs from post-war Britain. They are fascinating, a great look back at another time and another place. I would suggest you check them out here.
I love old photographs and am so pleased that my family is a family of picture takers. Over the years I have accumulated some wonderful old pictures from the Canadian prairies. So I thought I would post a few of them from time to time as others may enjoy them too. Many will be of family and some will be poor quality. The following are from the 1950s.
This four-generation picture is one of my favourites. Seated is my great-grandmother, and on the left is my grandmother holding little me (and teddy). My mom is on the right. These three women were a huge influence in my life. The shadow of my dad taking the picture makes it even more special.
Another favourite with special women in my life. From left to right, my aunt with my cousin, Mom holding my little brother, me (with teddy), my paternal grandmother, a close family friend I called Aunty and her two children (who I’m still friends with).
Now here is one I just love. I am on the right with my aunt and my brother. We were playing wedding and needed a bridesmaid so we put a dress on my younger brother. He looks so happy because we actually let him play with us. We look a bit guilty, I think. He is not fond of this picture but has forgiven us. I think he looks so cute!
Two farm kids from the 1950s at Hilda, Alberta. One now lives in Thailand, the other in Spain. Who would have thought?
Here I am on the farm with my brother and a snowman we had just built; our dog lurking in the background.
My next little brother with my mom’s teenage sisters, my dear aunts. Another favourite picture.
There you have it, six pictures from another time. I have more to share later.
Thanks for joining me on my trip down memory lane.
I am very happy to present a guest post from the lovely Darlene Foster. Blogger, and published author of the popular ‘Amanda’ series of books, Darlene is from Canada, and lives in Spain.
Babies and Blizzards
By Darlene Foster
I remember when my brother, Timothy, was born. It had been a typical cold and snowy prairie winter with blizzards creating impassable road conditions. Mom expected the third member of our family to arrive in early February. Dad was concerned that the inclement weather might stop him from getting her to the hospital sixty miles away, when the time came. So he took mom and my younger brother, Lorne to stay with our grandparents in the city well before her due date. Since I had school, I stayed with my great-aunt and great-uncle in the small town near our farm.
I was excited about this as I loved Aunt Elsie and…
There are teachers who teach the curriculum and hope that some of it sticks and then there are teachers who change your life. I was fortunate to have one of those extraordinary teachers in Grade three. I am not sure how Miss Roll ended up in Hilda, at our small prairie school, in the southeast corner of Alberta, for her first year of teaching. I consider it a stroke of luck that she was there just when I, a naïve farm girl, needed her.
Miss Roll introduced us to learning new things in a fun, interactive way. When we learned about Mexico in Social Studies, we were given a Mexican name, ate chilli con carne for the first time, wore serapes and sombreros and listened to Mexican music. We put on a puppet show as a fund raiser. I was “The Pirate Don Duke of Dowdai” and got to make my own puppet. With the money we raised from the puppet show, popcorn sales and other fundraisers, we took a bus trip to the Jubilee Auditorium in Calgary. We were kids who never went much further than twenty miles from home. Going to Medicine Hat was a big deal, Calgary another world. For the Christmas concert we featured the “Christmas Carol” as a puppet show. What better way to learn Dickens at age nine? Miss Roll played the Grande Canyon Suite for us on her portable record player. She brought the world to us.
At the end of Grade three I received a book as a prize, “The Bobbsey Twins in Mexico” by Laura Lee Hope, signed by Miss Roll, “For marks of highest achievements in Grade three”. I still have it.
Not only an excellent teacher, she was a great role modal for young girls. She was always perfectly groomed and poised. She had a wonderful modern wardrobe and everything matched: shoes, purse, nails, lipstick etc. We couldn’t wait to see what she would wear to school the next day and would argue over which outfit was the best. I wanted to be just like her; smart, fun, adventurous and well put together.
I never forgot her over the years. She encouraged me to travel to the lands we learned about, to read and to write. She encouraged me to be the best I could be in spite of limited resources and to be a role modal for others. A couple of years ago I managed to track Shirley Roll Tucker down through the wonderful means of the internet and we have since communicated by email.
Yesterday another dream came true for me as I attended the reading of Shirley’s latest book, “The Amazing Foot Race of 1921” at Word on the Street in Vancouver and met with her after all these years. She is still beautiful, full of grace and eloquence. I now have another book in my possession signed by her and this one written by her.
How uplifting to be able to tell her the difference she made in my life.
Is there anyone in your life who has made a difference? Have you been able to let them know?
There are teachers who teach the curriculum and hope that some of it sticks and then there are teachers who change your life. I was fortunate to have one of those extraordinary teachers in Grade three. I am not sure how Miss Roll ended up in Hilda, at our small prairie school, in the southeast corner of Alberta, for her first year of teaching. I consider it a stroke of luck that she was there just when I, a naïve farm girl, needed her.
Darlene Foster's Blog 