By D&M Publishers
The 12 months 2011 marks forty years of caliber self reliant publishing for D&M Publishers. To rejoice we have created a loose book sampler of D&M classics. From Wade Davis's A mild on the fringe of the World to David Suzuki's The Sacred Balance; Andrew Nikiforuk's Tar Sands and Emily Carr's Klee Wyck, and past, 40 Years: a range of Writing from D&M represents the very best publishing of the house's earlier 4 many years. We invite you to obtain it at no cost and aid us have a good time our ruby anniversary! stopover at FortyYears.ca for info on how we are making plans to mark the get together.
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Mrs. Johnson’s hands were clever and busy. The row of hard kitchen chairs had each its own antimacassar and cushion. The crocheted bedspread and embroidered pillow-slips, all the work of Mrs. Johnson’s hands, were smoothed taut. Mrs. Johnson’s husband had been a sea captain. She had loved him deeply and remained a widow though she had had many offers of marriage after he died. Once the Indian Agent came, and said: “Mrs. Johnson, there is a good man who has a farm and money in the bank. ” “Tell that good man, ‘Thank you,’ Mr.
Sophie pushed the babies into corners, spread my old clothes on the floor to appraise them, and was satisfied. So, having tested each other’s trade-straightness, we began a long, long friendship—forty years. I have seen Sophie glad, sad, sick and drunk. ” That was Sophie’s ideal—being nice. Every year Sophie had a new baby. Almost every year she buried one. Her little graves were dotted all over the cemetery. I never knew more than three of her twenty-one children to be alive at one time. By the time she was in her early fifties every child was dead and Sophie had cried her eyes dry.
The two women laughed for each other and cried for each other. With babies on their backs and baskets on their arms they crossed over on the ferry to Vancouver and sold their baskets from door to door. When they came to my studio they rested and drank tea with me. My parrot, sheep dog, the white rats and the totem pole pictures all interested them. “An’ you got Injun flower, too,” said Susan. ” She pointed to ferns and wild things I had brought in from the woods. SOPHIE’S HOUSE WAS shut up. There was a chain and padlock on the gate.