Bethany Lee

I yearn for the fragrances of my youth, to be able to pick berries or fruit, to run my hands along soft petals with my scissors in hand to cut a loose bouquet for the table.

Ever considered running for office? Here’s a guide to get you to the October 26 municipal election.

The death of a parent forces a profound life shift as grief, gratitude and memory intertwine, and the sense of loss lingers.

By honouring our customs, we celebrate continuity and remember a shared history.

The importance of rest – whether napping or just taking a break – as a form of self-care.

Here in these hills, we are a car-reliant community. But driving can sometimes be overwhelming and terrifying.

I’m no Marie Kondo, but every once in a while I want to dig in like this, scrub everything down, and have a little purge.

Christmas has a way of bringing up childhood memories of family time with parents who are long gone, but not forgotten.

As our towns grow, the need to create and protect places to play, explore, climb, run, pedal and paddle is more challenging than ever.

As food prices in Canada dramatically rise, the simple act of going out for dinner seems to be an indulgence fewer and fewer can enjoy.

As elderly parents enter the final season of their life, adult children face the challenges of caring for them, and preparing to say goodbye.

An accidental discovery teaches an important life lesson, that knowing too much can spoil all the fun.

The familiar sounds of home are a comforting routine that tells us all is right in the world – sounds you hope you can listen to forever.

Writer Bethany Lee muses on her father’s carefully organized chaos in the garage as her young son begins to explore his grandfather’s tools.

When the call of the road beckons, it’s time to plot a course for new adventures, towns and cities.

For many of us, as the daylight grows shorter and shorter, it’s a time to gather with friends and family.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” It’s such a familiar question. We throw it out to the littlest of our littles, as early as age three or four, once their interests start to sparkle.

“I don’t know how to swim,” I said quietly.