A crisp, clear January afternoon on the farm near Oak Lake. I am no writer. I always thought I would become a novelist, but thinking about it doesn't make it happen. I once read (or took the subject matter in an English class once upon a time) that a good writer is also an avid reader. The latter, I have been throughout my life. Though not the past few years. At first I thought is was because I had over done it. I had read too much when I belonged to a book club. At the time, I could walk into Chapters or Indigo Books and look around and say, "Read it, read it, read it, etc." But in truth, I fell out of love with reading. Not the idea of it, but the actual sitting down and doing it. So please bear with me, the presently non-avid reader, while I attempt to tell a story or two about what life is like with the Sellsteds.
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