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Autumn can be a golden month, but tomorrow for our family it's going to be even more so. Oct. 5, 1963 was the day my sister and her husband were married. As I was a very young flowergirl for the occasion, my memories are comprised primarily of images from photographs and stories from others.  Just the other day, for example, my mother (yes, God love her, alive and well alongside my father these 50 years later) remarked on what a beautiful fall wedding day it had been.  Having seen the photos of little me in my short-sleeved golden taffeta dress, standing outside the church, sun glinting of the kaleidoscopic foliage, I trust she is right. Tomorrow, the happy couple are marking their occasion with a party, of course. After all, staying married  is kind of a big deal. Especially these days. In fairness, let's first acknowledge there are many who claim we were never intended to be married so long. For that  reason they maintain that we shouldn't be expected to stay with

Researching your family tree is an interesting, and occasionally eye-opening endeavour.  There are the black sheep, surprising origins and occasionally even the odd newsmaker you discover around your ancestry. I've been digging up the roots of my tree on a very casual basis for some time.  The biggest brick wall to my enthusiastic pursuit of this hobby is the loss of records in Europe during the war, which probably means that once retired I must take a trip to see what I can discover in the land of my heritage. That land is Germany. Or, more specifically with regards to my father's family,  Bavaria — the place of dirndls and lederhosen, folk music, pretzels, beer and, of course, Oktoberfest.  This annual fair is held in Munich, for 16 days beginning near the end of September.  The tradition began in 1810 when Crown Prince Ludwig was married and the citizens were invited to to attend the royal festivities in a field.  Today Munich's Oktoberfest is known a

Next weekend  is the Canadian Thanksgiving.  Always the second Monday in October, the holiday is meant as a time to count our blessings and celebrate the harvest. The first part I do each and every morning, as a gentle reminder to live in the present and appreciate the many gifts this wonderful life has given me.  But come Oct. 14, I become the corny, sentimental mom, who as our family gathers around the dinner table, asks each one there to share for what he or she is most thankful.  They apparently hate it — but I know secretly love it.  How do I know? Well, I have been under strict orders from them for the past several years that I can't keep saying "My family".  So, confounded on where else to go, as my gratitude is deep when it comes to my husband, kids and grandkids,  I actually forgot  to get things started.  It didn't take long before they were all asking when we were going to begin.  They can no longer, therefore, at this annual meal, give me the moans a

Well, it's the first of October — the month that makes us think of pumpkins, and here in Canada, turkey.  It's a gorgeous time of year with trees creating a dazzling palette of crimson, gold and copper.  At the start of this month the world around us is a burst of colour, a cheerful time when sunlight sparkles through morning mist, then kisses the dew on grass and leaves. We are freshened by the new pleasant crispness in the air, then take quiet respite indoors as sombre evening falls. But, by month's end, it's kind of a darker place. Trees, now bereft of dense foliage are stark and barren.  More hours are filled with night-time shadows and stillness.  It's really the perfect time for the creepiest of holidays — Halloween — exuberant fun in a world lit by mist clouded streetlights and sneering jack-o-lanterns,  before winter's cold and frigid landscape falls. So, in preparation, I thought it might be fun to get ourselves into the spirit of the season wit

So, it seems we have a little visitor in our office right now – though I suspect he won't be with us much longer. He's the first of his kind to have made it in and hopefully the last. Not that I'm afraid of mice or anything. I suppose in their own way they're kind of cute with their tiny little noses and ears. I mean there are people who find them adorable as pets, who let them run up and down their arms and over their shoulders.  I just think that everything has its place and mice have no business being in mine. Unfortunately, I have had more than my share of the little critters setting up house in my living spaces. When my husband and I purchased our home decades ago, it had sat empty for two years after the previous owner went into a nursing home. It was an old brick Italianate, and while the intent was to renovate, I think our first year was spent primarily setting and emptying traps.  If I remember correctly I believe the number caught was 25. Fortunately,