Columns
Our evenings often include watching a new series on Netflix and recently that has included two shows that have made us totally uninterested in the U.S. President's suggestion that Canadians should be delighted to be asked to join the United States.
The winds of change, The absentee landlord, A time for celebration
Charm Chief - the title alone tingles the tongue, tantalizes the teeth and trembles through the typographical traditions of The Chaff.
Here in Canada - and I say this not just as a father of a young girl who likes to play sports, but as a longtime fan - I've always felt that we have been more supportive of our women athletes than most.
On my way to Brussels the other day I was attracted, as I always am, by the sight of a couple of elm trees near the road. Elm trees are now so rare that I'm not sure younger readers would even recognize them.
If one were to look for an example of how to live life on a large scale that packs in many experiences and accomplishments they perhaps would benefit from examining the life and times of Dr. Charles Toll.
Over the weekend, the Loughlin family packed into the car and made the long trip to London to run some long-overdue errands. As we crawled through Exeter, a woman walking a dog stumbled and fell.
Evidently, something has interfered. That much is clear, if nothing else is. The Chaff arrived, if arrival is the right word, intending to Chaff. That is our function, our cycle, our seasonal fruiting.
After ignoring U.S. President Donald Trump as much as possible in this column, recently, I find that the madness of this powerful leader cannot be ignored forever.
The town of Seaforth is hosting a wonderful homecoming this weekend and a nod must be given to the organizers for the varied events taking place.
It's now undeniable, Coming back for more, The time is now
Looking for something to watch the other night, we pulled the movie The Good Lie off the shelf. The movie was a reminder of how fortunate we are to be born in Canada.
Here is what serious people understand that unserious people do not: the name "Washington Nationals" is no longer appropriate.
Something that's universal within the human race is the fear of getting it wrong. Not only do we not want to get things wrong, but, when we have gotten it wrong, we often talk ourselves out of it, contorting things...
Treason begins in small places. First a whisper, then a pamphlet, then, before anyone quite notices, a full-scale assault on the senses disguised as culture.
This information has been validated and confirmed over and over again, but it's always astounding just how much prime agricultural farmland we lose in this province on a daily basis.
Two obituaries in last week's issue of The Citizen caught my attention, and I realized that, since neither lived nearby, many younger people would probably not have read them.
Saturation point, A leader and his art, Bowing to pressure
Little by little, Don't look back in anger, Roll with it
Born near London, England, one of five daughters and one son of the Greenlands docksmaster on the Thames, Catherine Strictland grew up in the countryside area of East Anglia and was educated at home.
Deliberations around Ontario's housing predicament have revealed a surprising truth: sometimes the solutions lie not in building more walls but in tearing down the invisible ones that separate us from the land we live on.
There is a situation here at The Citizen that still, to this day, causes me to wake up in the night, covered in a cold sweat, shouting incoherently and begging the gods of community journalism to take me now. It is, of course, the suggested Gypsy Lane...
After watching Drew Hayden Taylor's play Sir John A: Acts of a Gentrified Ojibway Rebellion at the Blyth Festival, and then, at home, rereading former Lieutenant Governor James Bartleman's autobiography Raisin Wine...