A party for the Wildrose party

– written with touches of Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf I always buy the flowers myself. And what a morning it was—the perfect day in June when the air comes straight across the foothills from the majestic Rockies. When I was doorknocking in northeast Calgary...

Our black & white parties

I miss the roses—profusions of them in silver bowls—and the warm light of candles and incandescent bulbs in pretty lamps, the white dishes and sparkling glasses, the colourful platters and bowls for serving the food, all setting the stage for another black & white...