It would be an understatement to say that I have been looking forward to spring and the beginning of fishing season
I have been writing this column, in one form or another, for more than 40 years.
I wrote about anticipating the blood moon and lunar eclipse which happened in the early hours of Tuesday, April 15.
Throughout history, mankind has always been intrigued by both the sun and the moon.
I’m not sure why I have waited until this stage of my life to take on the really ‘big boys’ of sport fishing
Works by glass fusion artist Sharda Murray-Kieken will be on display April 5 to 26 at the SAGA Public Arts Centre.
All I know for sure is that once the ice is off, and the lakes have turned over, I’ll be heading out to cast my first line of the new season
How many times have I stood, knee-deep in the fast flowing waters of a river somewhere, casting my two-handed spey rod…
The environment, not to mention the whole of the natural world around us, is heading for hell in a hand basket. Or so it would seem
I don’t know how many times I’ve found myself bumping my way along some back road, missing one pothole just so that I could hit another
I spent some time reading the Vancouver Aquarium’s Ocean Wise Program website, ocean wise.ca
Three men went out on the ice of Shuswap Lake Wednesday to rescue a deer that hade been chased out onto the ice by coyotes.
I was asked how I can say that I am a practitioner of catch and release while, at the same time, also write in my column about cooking…
As winter winds continue to blow and the temperature seems determined to drop to below -10 degrees Celsius, I long for spring
The other night I made a pretty good supper, if I do say so myself.
How often have I stood and cast my line to the unknown – to some momentary flash of silver in the waters off to the corner of my eye
At first glance, the winter landscape appeared stark and void of life. Neither bird nor beast seemed to have been willing to venture out
The summer my older brother Don went to Boy Scout camp was probably the loneliest summer I have ever spent
Any time a new fly-fishing book comes across my desk for review, it is a treat.
What started out as the journal of a 12-year-old girl ended up as the interesting, often entertaining, sometimes poignant chronicle
