Bitten By the Auction Bug

Bitten By the Auction Bug

When I was a child, Daddy would occasionally load up and haul a few weaner pigs or several skim milk calves to MacLean’s Auction Mart on a Saturday morning. I was always thrilled when he invited me to tag along as he transacted business at that time-honored...
All Fired Up

All Fired Up

I was in the second grade that long-ago February morning in the Alberta foothills when Old Man Winter had such a fierce grip. To walk the quarter-mile uphill from our farmhouse to the main road where we’d catch the school bus, Mom had wrapped me in multiple layers...