Excerpt:
When the deep New Brunswick snows buried the woodpile, we children would stand at the windows, making a huge sign of the cross as she disappeared into the swirling snows. We would have to peer out to see her struggle to free firewood. Many times she had to split pieces that were too big to put into the stove. In winter months, many cords of wood were needed to keep the fire burning, sometimes all night.
All of this outdoor work was done with a minimum of protection against the cold because Papa could not afford to buy her clothing. The children came first although, even for them, there was little that could be bought. Old clothing was scarce because we had to use it up, wear it out, and make it do. So there Mama would be, fighting her way through winter storms with neither stockings nor underclothes to wear because we were so poor.

Synopsis
The author's inspiring story of growing up in rural New Brunswick in a family rich with love but enveloped in poverty, as told to Anne Osborne.