The first time I begged for a toasted marshmallow was in 1966. I was four. My family lived in a newly- built subdivision in Ottawa. The only trees in our neighbourhood were saplings that dotted the streets like sticks. It was a fairly idyllic upbringing.
There were lots of other kids in the neighbourhood to play with. In our backyard my father made a large sandbox. My brother Jake and I played in it with our toy trucks. My brother Jake was five so he bossed me around a bit. Our house was a split level, perfect for us to play hide and seek in. Jake and I ran around bumbling, tripping on stairs.
Our parents put up with a lot from us. We were rambunctious tikes, always running around. Kids being kids and all that. Read More
Volume 18, Number 101, February/March 2015 Nature by John F. Cameron
A splendid start to a day
Is to behold a sunrise
Slowly the bright orb appears
Radiant in golden colour. Read More
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