Fence Posts

Dan Needles reflects on how Canadians seem to be the only people who stumble over the words of their national anthem.

Author Dan Needles reflects on the sudden growth of small towns as urbanites adjust to village life

No longer reminiscent of a Mad Max movie set, the township dump has become something of a pleasant, well-managed place, finds Dan Needles.

Safely navigating the narrow, snow covered hills of Headwaters is no walk in the park, as many long-time residents attest and new arrivals quickly learn.

I live in a haunted house. It’s been haunted for at least a century by all accounts, that is, by the neighbours’ accounts.

Two hundred years ago, my ancestors were tossed off the land during the clearances in Scotland and replaced by sheep, who ate less and could be sheared more often.

I seemed to have forgotten how a visit is supposed to go.

There is a lot of waiting around with mushrooms, just like there is in the military or the theatre or government roadwork.

For generations the only people in Canada who had a good word to say about Toronto were the ones living there. Now thousands of them have left to live here.

As a scribbler I have always walked down the sunny side of the concession roads.

A country house has a lot of moving parts that can stop moving at any moment.

Given the choice between a Rolex watch and a 1948 Champion root pulper that weighs 500 pounds and needs sharpening, the burglar is more likely to take the watch.