Tag: aurora-borealis

Fury of the Wind

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excerpt

…housewives and excited children. After checking off the names of
volunteers who manned each booth, he moved on to the next. Few
of the women had time for more than a glance and a nod in his
direction, but preparations appeared to be progressing well.
As he approached the bake sale table, an annual endeavour of the
Anglican Church ladies group, he spotted his wife working at the
table with Mrs. Carson and Mrs. McKinnon. But before he could
greet them he heard his name called. Will turned to see Mrs. Draper,
a director’s wife, hurrying towards him.
“Oh, Mr. Andrews,” she said breathlessly, “I’ve been looking all
over for you. Janet Peterson was supposed to be helping me with
the preserves booth but her husband just told me she’s sick and
won’t be here.” Beads of perspiration from her forehead were sliding
down each side of her moon-shaped face. “I can’t handle it on
my own, there’s so much coming in, and that judge from Bradshaw
doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
“All right,” Will said, “you go back to the booth and I’ll send
someone over.”
Muriel Draper extracted a crumpled handkerchief from the
puffed sleeve of her cotton dress. She mopped her face, muttering
as she turned away, “And it’s already so hot. I don’t know how we’ll
survive in this building all day.”
Will thought if Mrs. Draper calmed down she wouldn’t feel the
heat so much. As he turned back to the bake table, he wondered
idly how poor Charlie Draper could stand his wife’s whining day
after day.
“Molly,” he said, after nodding briefly to his wife’s companions,
“will you go over to the preserves section and help Mrs. Draper?
Her partner isn’t coming and she’s snowed under. You know how
excited she gets.”
Molly gave him a sour look. “Really, Will, can’t you find someone
else? You know I’m needed at this table to help with pricing and
sales.”
“I’ll find someone else to come here then,” Will said firmly, “but
there’s no one else who knows how to arrange exhibits like you
do.”
Mrs. Andrews, not in the least mollified by his compliment,
shrugged her shoulders irritably, picked up her purse from under…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073530

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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excerpt

…where all the things that are common in your life don’t exist. Imagine a
place where the only things that do exist are things that are uncommon
to you. You will be in a state of sensory deprivation and sensory overload
at the same time. There are no trees. There are no cities. There is nothing
– but there are vast numbers of insects so pray that the wind blows. There
is almost no night. The size of the horizon is so immense that the prairies
by comparison are claustrophobic. It will just eat away at you and you’ll
have to go through the experience of feeling a bit wobbly and perhaps
teary and that’s fine. I would be worried if you didn’t have an emotional
moment or two. You would have to be completely insensitive.”
In the weeks leading to the departure day, dozens of incidents demanded
his attention. First on the list was the long-planned show at the
Ontario Legislature buildings, which was a great success. The Premier
steered Ken from group to group, demanding that Ken tell the stories that
explained the paintings – even relating some himself that he had heard so
often he had committed them to memory.
Then Ehor Boyanowsky, his voice almost incoherent with excitement,
called him. Ken must fly out to Vancouver right away for an emergency
meeting of the Steelhead Society. There were problems with the dam
project in Quebec.
He drove into town to deliver a painting to London Life on Avenue
Road, on the day of his flight. When he got back into his car, a large
cheque in hand, he heard Peter Gzowski, radio’s “Mister Canada”, interviewing
John Fraser, who was now Speaker of the House. The interview
had almost ended. “So, Mr. Speaker,” Gzowski said. “Your life seems to be
completely taken up by your office.”
“Well, it is,” Fraser, replied.
“I know you’re a fanatical fly-fisherman,” Gzowski said. “Do you ever
get to do that?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Fraser said. “This afternoon I’m getting on an
airplane to go to Vancouver and I’m going to meet my good friend Ken
Kirkby, the painter, and I am going to be honoured at the Steelhead Society
dinner. I couldn’t imagine being in finer company. I’m just delighted.
So yes, we are actually going to steal some time – but don’t tell anybody
– and we’re going to have a few meetings to talk about some problems,
which I’m sure we’ll resolve, and then we’re going to go fishing. And the
people putting this on have some surprises for us too.”
Ken chuckled. So, that was why Boyanowski had insisted he fly to Vancouver.
He knew that Ken would never have pulled himself away from
Isumataq for a mere fishing trip.
When Ehor greeted him in the baggage area, with an immense bear
hug, Ken told him that the jig was up. Ehor shrugged. “I wondered if you
might be listening to Gzowski’s program.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562830

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573

Wellspring of Love

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excerpt

She bent her back to the task again, covering the seeds she had just
planted with the rich loose loam. As she worked she let her thoughts
drift. As usual they returned, like a dog gnawing on a bone, to both
Rachael and Millie Harper. Tyne had tried, over and over, to leave
them in God’s hands. But time after time, she had taken them back
to worry over them herself, as if she could do better than God could
in making things right for them.
She felt a sudden longing to talk to the one friend who had been
her closest confidante since the day they entered nurses’ training
almost twenty years earlier. Maureen Hall, better known as Moe to
her classmates, continued to be a constant in Tyne’s life, although the
years had separated them in distance. Moe and her husband Ken lived
in the city of Calgary, where they operated their own thriving plumbing
business. Moe had left her work in the pediatric department of
the Holy Cross Hospital before giving birth to her first child. Now
Ken and Moe had two – Elizabeth and Brian – and Tyne wished the
families could get together more often.
She decided she would call Moe tonight when the kids had gone
to bed, and the house was quiet. By that time, she suspected, the Hall
household would have settled down as well.
Again she glanced at her watch. It was almost half past three and
the girls should be coming down the lane at any moment. She had
expected Rachael to hurry the twins on their way when they saw the
threatening sky. The older girl was as aware as anyone of the fury of a
prairie storm, and Tyne trusted her to be responsible.
Gathering her tools, she threw them in the wheelbarrow just as
the sky lit up with a fork of lightning. As she hurried to the garden
shed, she looked towards the lane. Relief flooded over her when she
saw Susie and Katie streaking towards the house almost as fast as the
lightning bolt. A thunderous roar overhead put even more wings to
their small feet.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562917

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763327

Fury of the Wind

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excerpt

“Andrew McNeill, Dave’s grandfather, had the house built when
he brought his young family from Scotland,” Penny explained as
they made their way downstairs. “He spared no expense. Farming
was profitable at the turn of the century and building materials
were cheap. Dave’s father took over the farm from his father, then it
was left to Dave to carry on when Dad died. Alan isn’t interested in
staying at home to farm.”
“But he seemed quite happy to be doing whatever he was doing
with the tractor when I drove up,” Sarah interjected.
“Oh yes, he’s a good help when he’s home. He still thinks of this
as his home, and it will be, for as long as he wants it that way.”
Sarah had been carrying little David in her arms but now, because
he was beginning to fuss and squirm, she handed him to his mother.
“He’s getting tired,” Penny said, “it’s nap time. Why don’t you go
and sit in the parlour, Sarah, while I put him down.”
“Thanks, but I’d better go home,” Sarah said, glancing at the
watch on her wrist, “I’ve already been here longer than I intended.
I’ve enjoyed it so much that the time has flown.”
“But I haven’t had a chance to ask if you’ll come to the fall fair
with us at the end of September.” Penny bounced the fussing baby
on her hip. “I know it’s weeks away, but it’s the event of the year in
Nimkus, and we start planning our exhibits early.”
“Oh, do you exhibit?” Sarah asked, her interest piqued.
Penny laughed. “Oh my, yes, I’ve become a regular country girl
with my garden produce and homemade bread and canning. And
Dave shows his best animals, wins lots of prizes, too. It’s fun, Sarah,
we’ll have to get you started on it next year.”
“I’d like that. Yes, I’d love to go to the fair with you.” She paused,
then added, “Maybe Ben will go, too.”
Penny shook her head. “I doubt it, he never does. But who knows?
Maybe he’ll go now that he has you to go with him.”
“Yes, I hope he will. I’m sure it’s been very lonely for him having only
his mother for companionship ever since he was a very young man.”
Penny glanced at her quickly, and Sarah had the momentary impression
that the look was one of surprise. But she said nothing
and, after warm goodbyes, Sarah went out to the yard where she
found Flicka waiting for her. Alan had tied her in the shade of a
large old maple near the horse paddock…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073530

Still Waters

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excerpt

And why shouldn’t she be happy? She had just committed to marrying
a wonderful man, who obviously adored her. They were of the
same faith … no problems there. And Morley had found a woman
who shared his faith … no problems there, either. So why should she
not be literally dancing with joy?
I’m tired, that’s all. Tomorrow, I’ll be fine. Just let me go to bed now,
and I’ll be fresh as a daisy to take Cam to church tomorrow … my church
… his church. Thank God, no more conflict with Mom and Dad. Aunt
Millie … what will Aunt Millie say? She’ll be happy, of course, even if
she has always favoured Morley. No more worries, Tyne.
She was jolted from her thoughts by the others making a move to
leave the table, and she heard Cam say to her dad. “I’d like a word
with you, sir, if you have a minute.”
Oh no, Cam, not tonight, let’s wait a day or so. She knew he planned
to ask her dad for her hand in marriage. Why did he always have to
be so formal, his manners so impeccable? Now she would be obligated
to stay up and join them all in the living room after Cam had
his talk with her dad. There would be hilarity, maybe even toasts. Jeff
Milligan would declare he must break out his best bottle of wine. He
always professed to have one on hand for joyous occasions, although
Tyne had yet to see him open one.
She got up quickly to help her dad out of his chair but he was
already on his feet, grasping the corner of the dining table with one
hand and his cane with the other. He waved her away when she offered
to help him into the living room, but she noticed that he took
Cam’s arm and let the younger man guide him through the doorway.
No indeed, no more worries. She had done the right thing by accepting
Cam’s marriage proposal.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763068

Ken Kirkby – Warrior Painter

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The Minister was a Maritimer and his open, neighbourly manner
delighted Ken. Their meeting resulted in the eminently successful 1975
exhibition of Ken’s Arctic work in Spain, and in the fashion of one domino
tipping the next, the first Canadian exhibition of the Arctic works was
triggered. Once the unusual, haunting images had been seen, and the origin
of the work was explained, all the right people wanted to own one of the
paintings, and gallery owners were clamouring to exhibit them. Best of
all, to Ken’s mind, it had been accomplished without cost to the Canadian
government beyond their public support and a few phone calls.
This was the beginning of the long road to the national introduction of
the Inuit, their stories and experiences, and the growing acceptance of the
symbol of the Inukshuk as a uniquely Canadian icon. It could be argued
this was the pivotal step that led to the Inukshuk becoming the distinctive
symbol of welcome for the 2010 Vancouver Olympics.
The Arctic paintings sold by the hundreds, nationally and internationally,
to the point where, a quarter of a century later, Canadian Art galleries were
objecting to anything other than ice, snow and Inuksuit displaying the
Kirkby name. It was ironic.
~~
Despite the history, the lack of outlets for Kirkby’s west coast images
promised a lean period ahead for the painter. He decided to force the issue
by withholding all of his art until the galleries accepted his new works. The
businessmen amongst the owners appreciated the fact that a painting with
the Kirkby signature translated into a certain sale, and Ken’s experience had
proven they’d come around when their stock was depleted.
He continued to work late, the bright light a beacon, spilling warmth
from the loft window. And then, one night he returned to the cottage to
find the message light blinking on the answering machine. That was the
start. While gallery managers still hopefully requested the Arctic series,
they agreed to hang work from his Vancouver Island series. Happily, new
customers liked it and previous Kirkby collectors were intrigued. Ten
years since that breakthrough, his work is more popular than ever and…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562902

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CB8W4CG

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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excerpt

…grandly feted and on another day, he and Marsha visited the village that
had been his home. They walked up the Avenue of Princes and stopped
in front of number twelve – his home. In the garden, he saw a couple
talking with the gardener. Ken leaned over the garden wall, introduced
himself, and asked if he could look inside his old boyhood home. The
couple frowned, turned their backs on him, and walked into the house,
locking the door behind them.
The gardener said, “You’re Ken.”
“Yes.”
“I’m Francisco’s nephew.”
“How wonderful to meet you. But why are they so upset?”
“They think you’ve come back to claim the house.”
Ken laughed. “I just wanted to go inside and look. I thought it might
be very nice.”
“Oh no. People have been wondering when you would return to take
back what is yours.”
“I’ve never considered it mine,” he said.
They walked on through the village and then down to the beach. Nothing
had changed. The wall he and Francisco had built was still there and
still trapping the sand to create a beautiful stretch of beach. Even the
remains of Francisco’s cabin still clung to the cliffs.
They drove to Peniche, the home of their friend, the Count. Even here
Ken was recognized, not so much for himself, but for his father; a saint
according to the owner of a restaurant, who closed the café in celebration
of Ken’s visit and served up a feast for his honoured guests.
Back in Toronto, Ken settled into a routine that was continuously interrupted.
When he was not working on Isumataq he painted canvases
for the gallery and for the financial company’s new collection. His biggest
challenge was that the media liked him too much. They wanted to know
why he was meeting with presidents in Europe; they wanted to know his
plans – what was next? Too much good press was boring so they sought
out the malcontents – those who had accused him of appropriating a
culture that wasn’t his. He needled them until they fired back. He had
come back from his latest Arctic trip with letters from the grandmothers,
written in Inuktitut and translated into English, stating that they not
only approved of his art, but had also asked him expressly to do what he
was doing. The letters were tucked in a file that Ken suspected might be
useful one day.
Bad press was interesting but outrageous press was better. He had
about twenty unfinished paintings, stacked in a corner of the studio, that
he would likely never complete. He spread them out on the floor and
paced between them.
“What are you doing?” Diane asked, poking her head into the studio.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562830

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573

Still Waters

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excerpt

It snowed during the night, a good two inches which prompted
Cam to say when he came down to breakfast, “Is our skating party
off then? The lake will be covered with snow.”
“Heck, no.” Jeremy slapped butter onto his toast and glanced at
the clock on the kitchen wall. “Some of the guys’ll be out there already
clearing it off. We’d better hurry up and go help them.”
“Really?” Cam pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.
“What do you clear the ice with?”
“We put our skates on and push homemade snow ploughs along
the ice. Someone usually comes with a tractor and pushes the snow
to the side of the lake.” Jeremy helped himself to another dollop of
butter.
Tyne reached across the table and slapped her brother’s hand.
“Enough,” she scolded, thinking she sounded very much like their
dad. More gently she said, “You already have more butter than you
need on one slice of toast. Leave some for Cam.”
Cam grinned as he stirred his coffee. “Leave him alone, big sister.
He’s a growing boy.”
And one who’s used to having butter only when we have company,
Tyne thought. Usually, they had margarine which, until recently, had
been purchased in white unappetizing blocks that had to be mixed
with a capsule of orange colouring. Cam, she was sure, would have
no knowledge of such things. Nor would Morley, of course, since he
had always lived on the farm and had fresh cream and butter year
round.
Why does Morley always have to come to mind, even for the most
mundane things? I’m sure he never thinks about me.
They finished their breakfast and the young men went to their
rooms to change into their outdoor clothes. As Tyne began to clear
the table, her mother appeared at the pantry door, carrying a wicker
picnic basket.
“Leave the dishes, Tyne, and run along. I’ve packed you a little
lunch because I know you won’t think of coming home…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763068

Wellspring of Love

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excerpt

“Bobby won’t give you a minute’s anxiety,” Emily said, “and neither
will Katie. I don’t think I can be so confident about that little monkey,
Susie.”
“Strangely enough, Mom, it’s not Susie I’d be worried about, it’s
Katie. She’s sweet and gentle but I also think she may be easily led.
We just pray she’s led in the right ways.”
Millie put her needles and unfinished sock on the coffee table in
front of her. “As far as you and Morley are concerned, she will be.” She
started to rise but sat back quickly with a hand grasping her abdomen.
Tyne sat upright, ready to go to her aunt’s aid. “Are you all right,
Auntie?”
Millie’s face had paled, but she relaxed and forced a smile that
didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, I think so. Just a stitch in my side. I’m
fine.” She reached for the coffee table, but Tyne gently touched her
hand.
“Sit for a minute until you feel better. I’ll wash up the tea things.”
She collected their cups and plates and carried them to the kitchen.
As she ran water into the enamel sink, Tyne said a silent prayer
for her aunt. And suddenly she realized there had been something
different about Aunt Millie recently. She didn’t have her usual spark,
and it was obvious she had been losing weight.
Tyne dried the dishes and hung the tea towel over the bar on the
oven door, all the while berating herself for being unaware of changes
in her aunt. Had her nursing skills deteriorated so much that she
didn’t notice something so basic about one of her own family? Where
had her attention been? Was she so absorbed in the children’s needs
that she hadn’t looked beyond them to the senior people in her life?
Maybe it was time she returned to work to brush up on the things
that used to be second nature to her. One thing she knew – from
now on she would spend more time with Aunt Millie than she had in
recent months. And Rachael would have to step up and help with the
twins. And maybe, just maybe, that would also solve the problem of
the amount of time she spent with Lyssa.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562917

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763327

Water in the Wilderness

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excerpt

Tyne did not know what to say. If Morley were here, he would know how to respond to Ruby’s outrageous suggestion. She lowered her head and mouthed a silent prayer. “Oh God, help me say the right things. Give me wisdom, Lord, because I’m scared. I’m scared for Morley because I don’t know what’s happened to him. And I’m scared for these children you have seen fit to bring into our lives. But God, I’m not ready for all this; too much has happened too fast. Please keep Morley safe and send him to me.”
She looked up to find Ruby staring at her. Tyne shook her head. “I can’t give you an answer, Ruby. You know I’ll have to talk to Morley about it.”
Ruby nodded. “Yeah, sure I know. But I also know I can’t take him back, Tyne. I’m just dreaming when I say he has to come home.” She burst into tears.
Tyne jumped to her feet. Crossing to the sofa, she sat down beside the distraught woman and put her arms around her. “Hush, it will be all right, I promise. We’ll work something out.”
In a few minutes Ruby dried her tears and stood up. “I have to see Ronald again before it’s time for my bus. I have to go home tonight.” At the door she turned with a half smile. “Thanks for listening.”
Tyne watched her leave, her thoughts in turmoil. Another promise … she had just made another promise that she didn’t know if she could keep. Her life was spinning out of control. She and Morley had been married for less than half a year when their world was rocked by that first promise she had made the night Lydia Conrad had come to the nurses’ station in Emblem Hospital. As a result of that brief encounter with her patient, she and Morley had known the joy of loving two small children; they had known panic when those children went missing; and they had known the heartache of losing their own unborn child.
And now, Morley was missing after going on a mission of mercy to find the children’s father and bring him to them.
What more do you want of us, God? Tyne cried in her heart. What more do you want us to do?

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562884

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X