
Like a lot of girls growing up in 1960s Nova Scotia, I idolized Anne Murray and admired her effortless, pure singing voice. The idea that a young woman who grew up just down the highway from me could become an international singing sensation boggled my mind. I’ve always liked to sing and I could sing along to a lot of Anne’s songs, but I was crazy-shy and had no aspirations about following in her footsteps. But when I set out to write The Power of Harmony, about a girl who does want to be a famous singer, I had to include Anne. And I did, including setting the story in her coal-mining hometown of Springhill, NS.
After the book came out in 2013, I mailed Anne a copy, and she responded by email, thanking me. She also tweeted about the book during Canadian Children’s Book Week in 2015, reaffirming my belief in her being a down-home, thoughtful, genuine person, despite her fame.
Finally this weekend, I got to meet Anne, at her annual meet-and-greet at the Anne Murray Centre in Springhill. By the time Shannon and I arrived, she’d been smiling for over five straight hours, but she seemed genuinely happy that I’d stopped by, and she remembered the book (she didn’t, however, say she’d read it (yet), but that’s okay:) She’s 71 now, and she looks fantastic, as you can see! I got her to sign a copy of my novel for me – possibly it’s the only one-of-a-kind autographed item I’ll ever own.
How about you? Ever met anybody famous? Were they as nice and personable as Anne?








We’d love to see you on Saturday, May 7th, 11:00 am, The Box of Delights Bookshop, Wolfville, NS!













I’m happy to say I was ruthless in choosing what to keep, what to chuck, but I still came close to filling a 300-picture album! That’s my dad and his dad, Gramps Mingo, in the header (our two dogs are also in the picture but cropped out by WordPress).


So, I feel like I have to write at least one blog post every month, even when I have nothing to say (which is most of the time). Since we had our third major (and beautiful) snowfall yesterday, this morning I started reading some winter poems, including these. I wonder what Robert Frost would think if he could have known that so many school kids over the years (like me) would be committing his oh-so-familiar words to memory. And that’s a random frosty puppy picture of Charlie in 2012:)












