Helen Row Toews was born in Maidstone, Sask. and has lived on the family farm in the Lloydminster area much of her life. As married mother of four grown children, Helen works as writer, bus driver and EA in her local school. This, along with her love of the Canadian prairies, travel, and all things humorous, is what she draws upon to write her tales.
“If onion juice is good enough for monkeys, it’s good enough for me,” my Uncle Don said, smacking a palm on the table to emphasize the weight of his statement. He was outlining his plan of action . . .
Cooking for someone is a labour of love. We’ve all heard this phrase, but I hadn’t given it much thought until today when sadly, it flitted across my mind that I should make a yummy apple crumble . . .
My father is a cattleman. He’s raised fine Charolais animals for the past 56 years near Marshall where I grew up. Of course, having a father who is a cattleman has often created humorous situations. . .
Who out there remembers a program, on both TV and radio, called “Kids Say the Darndest Things!” hosted by Art Linkletter? He put regular people, especially kids, at ease in front of a microphone, . . .
At work yesterday, while happily boiling water to make a cup of cocoa, I was made keenly aware of the fire hazards involved in such an act. Anne, the wellness coordinator at my school, asked me to . . .
The New Year is always a good time to talk about beginnings and fresh starts. With that in mind, I wrote a little story on the birth of a child, since there’s nothing that leaves us with brighter . . .
There’s never been more emphasis on buying local and supporting small business as this Christmas, for obvious reasons. I’ve tried to do my part and found it a rewarding experience that I’ll repeat . . .
“Mrs. Toews, if I fill two of these one-fourths, will it make one-eighth?” The little girl squinted at me through a cloud of flour. Cooking class was in full swing, and today the kids were making . . .
Soundlessly, the doors of the Italian restaurant closed out the warm July evening behind us and a well-dressed host showed us to a table for three. This summer my family enjoyed a few short days in. . .
Foxtail billowed around my feet as I closed the metal gate once Dad drove through. He was checking the livestock, and though I should have been home writing, I’d gladly joined him. We crossed the . . .
Language arts classes have begun in schools everywhere, and I’m glad. Of course, I’m not a student. I’m not staring into space as my teacher explains the elements of a narrative. I’m not doodling a. . .
And so, the first few days of school have passed without casualty or disaster (you’ll notice I didn’t say without complaint). There are a plethora of rules to follow, in order to keep everyone safe. . .
What do folks from other countries immediately assume when they hear the word “Canadian”? Perhaps they imagine an interesting combination of bacon, maple syrup, moose, poutine, beaver and striped . . .
Summer on the prairies sees folks flocking to the beach where they bask in the sun and frolic in the waves. Of course, a lake can offer many activities beyond these. It’s a place to get away from . . .
A while back, our 18-year-old daughter, Aliyah, summoned her courage and announced she had a boyfriend. Naturally, we were expecting this to happen – one day – maybe somewhere in the distant future. . .
It was as I rounded a corner at work, shortly before closure, that I noticed a teacher hunched furtively outside her classroom door, sternly addressing her upraised arm. She stood alone and held no. . .