news Posted December 22, 2008 Posted December 22, 2008 WE WERE PICKING ROSE HIPS TO dry for tea—my 83-year-old mother and I. It was a gorgeous autumn day in Beauvallon, Alberta, with leaves turning from green to bright red and yellow. After my father died, Mother and I stayed on the farm together doing heavy manual work—making hay, milking and feeding the cows, tending a large garden. We shared lots of joy and fellowship, along with hardships and sorrows. We were close friends. [url={url}]View the full article[/url] Quote
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