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An ode to my mother

Maple Ridge History

My mother is a saint. She raised us while working part time, home part time and working on the farm part time.  Sounds easy, doesn’t it?  Somehow she still managed to find time to make sure we had 3 square meals a day, we were respectful of the land, we exercised outside, we finished our chores and we only got to watch a half hour of TV a day.  We maybe snuck in an extra half hour if we were feeling devious… don’t tell. I remember being in awe of how many cook books she had. Rows of shelves dedicated

Why are we here?

We have always romanticized the ‘good ‘ol days’ in our minds. You know the ones… The good ‘ol days! The ones we used to read about in story books and nursery rhymes.  The days when our grandparents used to ‘go together’.  The days when you grew your own garden vegetables and fruits. The days when you milked your cow by hand or made fresh bread in the morning. Why don’t people want to live like that anymore?  We’ve lost the authenticity in our day to day lives. We bustle about, feeding ourselves with things that came from a box or