Writer On the Move, Part 2 by Diane Bator

 

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I have a lot in common with my main character, Laken, in All That Shimmers. 

No, I didn't find my ex-husband dead.

No, I'm not exactly a former model either.

I do love a good mystery AND I did leave my old life behind and trek across thousands of miles to start over.

Laken, however, didn't have two cats.

The cats definitely made the 5 day trip more interesting. First of all, there was our very first hotel stop in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario. The hotel was a bit creepy on the outside. And the kitties and I were on the second floor. No elevator. I got exercise. Everyone else in the hotel got entertainment.

We were fine until I checked in and went to get the kitties who were both secure in their carriers. Or so I thought.

Jazz was fine. Snug as a furry bug.

Ash, my 22 pound ball of fur, fell to the gravel when her carrier fell apart in my hands!

My skittish, fur baby proceeded to run UNDER my car and across the parking lot without me. I dropped everyhing and chased after her. Around two trucks that were parked - thank goodness no one else was checking in right then! - and found my girl sprawled on the gravel near the ditch SUNBATHING!! Of course she scrambled under cover of the nearest truck the second I stepped toward her. Try as I might. She refused to come out. Lucky for me there was a man nearby and I asked him to please keep an eye on her so I could get some treats. 

Back to the car. Put Jazz back inside for safety. Grab some treats and put the bits of carrier back into sort of one piece. Try to lure Ash who goes beneath the second truck. This time, I can reach her. I get on hands and knees in the gravel and pull her out. We're both dusty and have nasty rock bites, but she's wrapped in my arms. I unceremoniously plunk her back into the wobbly carrier and carry her up the stairs and halfway down the hall to our room before...It falls apart again! 

More entertainment for people coming and going from their rooms. Including the guy who checked me in who had no idea what to say when I asked where the nearest pet store was. I meant for a new carrier, but at that point...

Did I mention she weighs 22 pounds?

I leave the carrier in the hallway and carry my terrified cat down the hall and into our room where I lock her in the bathroom. Thankfully, the rest of the haul went smoothly! With both cats in the hotel room, fed, watered, and litterboxes ready, I searched online for a nearby pet supply store. Miraculously, one is 5 minutes away! I get the luxury model with extra screws and bolts to hold her in securely and plunk down $85. Ouch! But, it has one great feature Ash loves for the rest of the trip:  a sunroof! She can see everything and doze in the sunshine.

I should've picked up two. 

Jazz was jealous, owly, and wanted nothing more than to gouge my eyes out for the entire trip! Until we got to a hotel where he could come on the bed with me and cuddle. That seemed to help. At least until the next morning.

The trip wasn't all about cranky cats. I saw scenery that made me gasp and some amazing wildlife. A black bear, two moose, two sandhill cranes walking in the ditch, 2 coyotes, dozens of pronghorn antelope across the southern prairies, and a pair of hawks - male and female - out hunting. I truly felt blessed.

Happy to report the kitties are settled into our new home and somewhat contented.

Ash getting a back rub.

Jazz on the new couch.

  
Now that the nightmare is behind them, they're both back to soaking up the sunshine and fresh air and hogging my bed at night!

And I can get settled and back to writing.

Have a Happy Summer!

Diane Bator

https://dianebator.ca/

https://bwlpublishing.ca/bator-diane/

What I want to be when I grow up – and more by donalee Moulton

 

                             Visit donalee Moulton's BWL Author page for book purchase links

I was recently interviewed for an online publication. I thought I’d share the questions – and my answer with you.

What do you want to be when you grow up?  Has this changed at all when you were really, really young?

When I was young, I wanted to be a lawyer. When I landed in university – with law school around the corner – I discovered academia and research. Then I wanted to get my PhD and teach. But through all of this growing and evolving, I was writing. I wrote poetry and short stories. (I even got some published.) I belonged to and joined writers’ groups. I worked for the university newspaper. I published articles in magazines (and I got paid!).

When push came to shove – when it was time to head to TO for the PhD – I decided to get a job that required less academic knowledge and more writing skill. Just to see what this would be like, of course. I got my first communications job and waved goodbye to any other career.

Do you prefer writing by keyboard, do you prefer pen and paper, or do you have another favorite method?

I’m a keyboard person. It is the most efficient, and it is the primary way of writing and communicating professionally. It has become second nature. That said, I was never trained to use a keyboard, so I have my own unique typing process. And that’s just fine. Writing is not about speed but about thought.

What's the story of how you came to publish your first written work (fiction or non-fiction, it could be a work in progress as well)?

It’s probably a tie. At about the time I got my first article published in the university newspaper, I also won a university poetry contest and got my first poem published. Writing and publishing have gone hand in hand for me. That may be because I had some early publishing luck or that being a freelance journalist is contingent on being published. Or both.

What's one thing about being an author that most people don't understand?

Tough question. I think, for me, the answer is solitude. I live in a house with people who walk by, holler out, play noisy games on their phone, and ask me questions mid-sentence. Non-writers don’t always see what the big deal is. You just pick up where you left off. Writers know why this removal from the fray of life is essential.  

Do you do any writing exercises or other work to further develop your writing skills?

I write. This sounds simple. Many days it isn’t. Some call this dedication, others devotion. I’m not sure it matters what it’s called as long as it happens. I will never be a better writer, I will never write another book if I don’t sit down in front of my computer screen and begin to put words on the paper.

 

 

BWL Publishing Inc. new releases for July 2023

 

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The story takes place late in 1944 Halifax. The war in Europe has turned in favour of the Allies. Meanwhile, back in Halifax, Robichaud and his partner, Pete Duncan, are still dealing with the daily issues and complaints like any police department. Both men are tired, like the population in general. Tired of the over-crowding, profiteering and the increasing animosity between serving personnel and the public. However, they will have to muster what energy they can to contend with a new threat as Naval Intelligence once again calls on them for help. This time it has to do with an Ally: Russia.

 

It was a dark overcast night and cold. The street was quiet; not much traffic, pedestrians or cars. The lone man walked down the street a cigarette hanging from his lips. He kept to the shadows. Suddenly a stranger stepped in front of him just as he reached the entrance to an alley between two houses.

“Gotta light, mac?” he said, holding up a cigarette between his fingers.

“Da,” he said sounding a bit startled as he dug into his pocket for his lighter.

Then he felt the icy cold tickle of a wire tighten around his throat. Too late, he tried to get his fingers under it. He felt himself being dragged backward into the alley. Then, as he stared at the face of the man who asked for a light, he realized that this would be the last thing he ever see again.

This was to become the worst and most dangerous case for Detective John Robichaud and his partner, Pete Duncan. They would need all their energy and resolve to deal with the brutality this new villain brought to their city and would bring one of them to the brink of death.

New Brunswick the Summervale Ranch by Eden Monroe

To purchase click here to visit Eden Monroe's BWL Author page

 There was not a cloud in sight as I made my way through the old shire town of Hampton, New Brunswick, and passed over the steel bridge dutifully spanning the Kennebecasis at its narrowest point.  A river of many moods, the name Kennebecasis is believed to be from the Mi’kmaq word Kenepekachiachk meaning little long bay place. The Mi’kmaq are among the original inhabitants in the Atlantic Provinces on the east coast of Canada. These indigenous peoples navigated the Kennebecasis in their birch bark canoes for thousands of years, and I think of that today as I glance at its pristine waters passing quietly under the bridge.

Onward I went at a leisurely pace that day onto Route 121 a scenic drive with the river stretching southward to my left, a glimmering silver ribbon meandering through the valley on a lazy summer afternoon.

Just minutes away sat the rural community of Bloomfield whose first settlers began to arrive more than two hundred years ago, determined to carve out a new homeland in the rich dark soil. Time has altered that landscape considerably since those early days, now with its neatly manicured lawns as green as an Irish morning, hand in hand with fertile farmlands and untamed fields dotted with colourful wildflowers. It is a wind-tossed vibrant dance of beauty gently sweeping downward toward the river.

The winding  blacktop felt like a welcoming red carpet because I’d come with a special purpose in mind. I wasn’t just a Sunday sightseer, I was there to find a setting in this idyllic countryside for my romantic suspense novel, Barlowe Pride, and I well remember the moment I spied the perfect spot; the moment I visualized Summer Vale Ranch where most of the novel would take place. 

From there it was just a matter of allowing the ranch to take shape in my mind’s eye. It would be a sizeable family spread, land fought for and won, still holding its own under the enduring stewardship of stalwart men and women who stood strong in the face of adversity. As the ranch slowly materialized in my imagination the storyline also began to flow as seamlessly as the sparkling Kennebecasis. It is an experience like no other when the characters step forward one by one to announce themselves. Not all would play a happy role, but each one would stand in their own truth as they breathed life into Barlowe Pride and the Summervale Ranch.

Finding a safe spot to pull over onto the shoulder of the road I reveled in what continued to come into sharper focus. Casual observers who raced past could not see what I saw of course … the ranch house with its wide veranda perfect for relaxing with a glass of frosty cold lemonade on a sultry August evening, or catching a breeze with the easy to and fro sway on the old wooden glider. Generations of Barlowes have known the pleasure of this veranda I thought, shaded on one corner by an enormous lilac bush, a friend to hummingbirds and butterflies alike. It would also be home to a robin’s nest, the bright turquoise eggs having hatched into hungry nestlings in the second brood of the season.

Yes this was Summer Vale Ranch and I cast my gaze on verdant pastures where herds of prime beef cattle grazed contentedly in warm sunshine, or cooled themselves under the wide canopy of a leafy shade tree. And of course the gnarled trunk of the massive oak was encircled by a typical pasture rock pile, a reminder of the backbreaking work of rock picking done by those who not only had the necessary fortitude to tame this land, but also understand its purpose. After all, every rock left to lie in a pasture covers a mouthful of nourishing grass.

I watched as a few gossamer clouds began to float through an ocean of cerulean blue, offering intermittent respite from a dazzling sun. Perfect! I smelled fresh cut hay curing in the heat, waiting to be raked and baled, the hum of a tractor already at work harvesting this natural bounty. Songbirds sitting atop fence posts or perched in the old apple tree at the bottom of the lane, sang with authentic abandon. No choirmaster here, as I sat roadside in paradise. I smiled as Summer Vale Ranch fully emerged amid this beautiful imagery, the natural backdrop for the story that was about to be captured forever within the pages of a book. I thought about those people, those characters, so eager to tell their story, gently urging me to be on my way to begin that work. It was a beautiful summer day in Bloomfield, Kings County, New Brunswick, properly celebrated only if I succeeded at my task, because thought alone is of very little use if not followed by action.

I remember that day so well as glancing around I drew more of that delectable countryside into my mind, grist for the mill, fodder for the power of creativity and certainly the inspiration for Barlowe Pride, book two of The Martel Sisters trilogy.

And then I was off to do the bidding of my imagination which I knew would give me no peace until it came to fruition. But like any author, there was no greater burden I could have hoped to enjoy. 

St. Lawrence River--a world changes forever

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While researching a new historical bride story for Quebec, I realized that once again I have bumped up against a landscape which has totally changed since my childhood. My parents and I lived for a time on Skanaeateles Lake in New York State, when the midstate area was still a bustling industrial region. Post war, people looking for work came down Route 20 past our house. In 1953, many of these travelers were aiming to turn north and head to Massena, New York, where ground on the long debated seaway (since before World War I) had at last been broken. 

This project was first proposed in the 1890's, as a way to open the vast interiors of Canada and the U.S. to maritime trade. Miles of rapids would be eliminated, rapids which the first travelers into the Northwest territories had navigated by portage, and, later, in the 19th century, by a series of canals. The canals were too and narrow to accomodate large modern ships, so there was a trans-shipping industry with much loading and unloading, in which smaller ships carried ores, coal and grain from Canada and the American midwest, to the nearest deep water port. Of course, the largest visual cue for anyone airborne surveying the territory between the Atlantic and Lake Eire was the magnificent drop at Niagara Falls.  

When I was very small, my parents took me through upstate New York, way up past my family's homestead near Schuylerville, NY to the shores of the St. Lawrence. From the American side, I saw many lovely islands dotting the river, some with "castles" built upon them. There were also terrifying rapids, and, in between small boats, some fishermen, some sightseers, out for a day's work or pleasure on the river. My mother told me stories about  one of her great-aunts who had spent her summers working as a cook on one of those pretty touring vessels. 

Eisenhower was president when the project began; he was still president when, in 1959, the seaway was, with much fanfare, completed. Young Queen Elizabeth arrived on HMY Britannia to do some official ribbon-cutting and sail on a small section of the newly completed Seaway. At last the interior of both Canada and the U.S. were open, cutting costs for the shippers and making the Great Lakes, and all the rich commodities both north and south of the border, available to ocean going ships.

Well, fanfare of trumpets for Progress, which was the watch-word for the optimistic 1950's! 

I don't want to omit, though, that there were also many severe individual losses, as old family farmlands, small historic river towns, and even some of those "thousand islands" were demolished, as grand mansions, fertile fields and fecund wetlands alike vanished beneath the water. A long established way of life beside this great river was forever lost. Generations of families who had lived tranquil, seasonal lives here, lost their land and homes through Eminent Domain.

One group who probably lost more than anyone to modernization were The People of the Flint, a group of Iroquoian (Six Nation's) people. Most of the those on Kahnawake reservation now are Mohawk, but others once belonged to their southern brothers, the Caughnawagas. Still others were refugees, fleeing the European take-over of their heritary lands.

Forty thousand three hundred and twenty acres were originally granted to the Iroquois. Today, thirteen thousand acres remain. The rest has been taken by non-native encroachment and abetted by mismanagement by the same government officials who were entrusted with the job of enforcing the original treaty. They were aided by surveyors who modified old maps at the expense of the Kahnawake people. Modern cessations were also forced upon the tribe to make way for a railway, hydro-electric dams, highways, bridges, and, finally, the Seaway. This has permanently severed the ancient relationship with the land and the river enjoyed by these original inhabitants. The people have suffered in many ways as their old seasonal continuities, energetic, subsistence lifestyle, and food ways were lost along with access to the river.

Moreover, it didn't take long for the unintended consequences to appear. Invasive, destructive new species arrived in the Great Lakes and in the St. Lawrence. Now, Zebra and Quagga mussels clog freshwater intake pipes for the large midwestern cities that ring the lakes. Sea lamprey kill many sport (and regional food staple) fish. They have also been known to attach themselves to swimmers. The Round Goby, arriving in Black Sea bilgewater from Eurasia, poisons river bottoms with botulism, which then infects the environment and kills native diving birds. The Goby also has a nasty habit of chowing down on juvenile native species of the prized sportfish and on that original First Nation's staple, the once-plentiful White Fish.  A reedy invasive, Phragmites (Phragmites australis ssp australis) look pretty, but these now grow in thick mats and smother native plants--including the smaller native Phragmite species--upsetting the wetland food chain necessary for many North American foundation species of plants, fish and animals. 

This great Seaway, built at an (estimated) cost of 5 1/2 Billion dollars of today's money, has proved, like many past public works, a blessing for some and a curse for others. Capital wealth has been generated, certainly. The pay-off has been huge for the company owners, for stockholders as well as the workers who, (before our heavy manufacturing base collapsed) benefited with high standards of living in midwestern cities like Detroit, Chicago, Cleveland, Toledo and Sarnia. 

Once again, the old adage, "Man proposes; God disposes" has proved both true and apt.

~~Juliet Waldron  

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The barge image above: 

Image: Wikipedia (public domain)

US government agency DOT

By 20px|link=User:Kcida10|Kcida10 Kcida10 (talk) (Uploads). - https://www.transportation.gov/fastlane/new-years-eve-ends-seaway-navigation-season, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=47277919

My Work in Progress: The 12 Scents Of Christmas, "Fragrance and Love Series," Novella #1 By Connie Vines #Perfume, #Fragrance Library,

Temps are in the mid-80s (26.7°) today in SoCal.  Getting into the holiday spirit takes a little work, but I'm getting the hang of it.

Scents/ fragrances are personal preferences.  While we may not like the same perfumes, colognes, or candle scents, we usually agree on the scents which represent "holidays."

The phrase 'smells like Christmas' is something we use throughout the year. 

Scents that come to mind are:

Mulled wine. 

Cinnamon. 

Pine. 

Orange. 

Clove. 

Gingerbread. 

Rosemary and Thyme.

Hot Chocolate.

An Open Fire.

What are your favorite holiday scents?

What memories come to mind when you relive that special moment?

Why are the choice of scents universal?  Because scents trigger memories.

Why are scents capable of triggering memories?

Because scent skips the thalamus, smells can enter our brains and attach to memories without us consciously registering or processing them.

3 roses from my garden

With this thought in mind, you can imagine the fragrance of my roses, correct?

Rose scent varies with the time of day. The early morning is when scents are strongest, with the most powerful scents produced by the first blooms of summer. 

When confronted by an unfamiliar scent, we must process the fragrance.

Magnolia is one of my favorite scents (having spent a great deal of my early childhood in the southern states). The large floral blossom has a sweet floral fragrance that's lightly fruity, with some comparing the scent to that of Champagne. Its fresh yet relaxing aroma makes it incredibly popular in aromatherapy.

Are there fragrances you are drawn to?  

Do you have a favorite perfume?

A favorite lotion scent?

More about more work in progress:

My setting is near the southern California coast, where abundant flowers are grown.

Since I worked as a fragrance consultant at a perfumery. You also have a peek into the perfuming process. 

Though I'm still pondering names for my Hero and Heroine.

I assure you there will be recipes for holiday treats and a few surprises.

 Follow me on Facebook/Instagram/or my blog for updates!

Remember, I post questions to my readers.  Naming my hero and heroine will be added tomorrow.

click on the link to purchase my novels :-)  

Or view my bio.

https://bookswelove.net/vines-connie/

Happy Reading,

Connie

Does the future of humanity reside in the stars? - by Vijaya Shartz

Find more of my BWL titles here

The race to space is suddenly a reality, like the gold rush of old, and everyone wants a piece of it. 

As a Science fiction writer and science fact enthusiast, I am excited by the many advances in space exploration.

According to the scientists and experts studying our chances of survival as a species, it seems that sooner or later, our planet will suffer a fiery end or near end, with the next extinction event, which is already overdue… eventually… in a century or ten thousand years.

Be it a space rock from the Kuiper belt, like the one that ended the dinosaurs, or a mega solar flare, or the consequences of pollution, the next pandemic, or the end of natural resources due to overpopulation, we are doomed. In truth, our very presence is destroying our planet.

But we also discovered that our galaxy harbors billions of habitable planets, that Mars was once similar to Earth, with an atmosphere, and water, and green forests, and may have supported civilizations. And that its end may have been the consequence of wars between ancient, advanced races... which destroyed another planet, resulting in the debris of the asteroid belt.

The Mars Rover

No wonder the US decided to establish a Space Force as a branch of the military. But we are not alone. Other rich countries are suddenly financing extensive space programs, to establish permanent bases on the moon and Mars. 

Blue Origin capsule

Private companies are building rockets and shuttles to take us there. They also plan to exploit the mineral riches contained in the asteroids floating around our sun.

 

SpaceX Dragon capsule

The Chinese and the Japanese are already ahead of the US with a robotic presence on the far side of the moon, lunar satellites, and their own space stations. Nations are recruiting volunteers for a one-way trip to whatever real estate on Mars, the moon, or an asteroid on which they can stake their claim. Like the pioneers of old, adventurous souls with the right kind of expertise and survival skills, are lining up to volunteer. Already, nations are holding talks on how to divide the spoils.

Asteroids in the Kuiper belt are full of precious minerals

Robots will go to Mars first, to build the habitats needed to sustain human life. Then humans will follow.

Soon, bases on the moon will be manufacturing spaceships with the metals mined in space and will serve as Earth’s launchpad for Mars, and farther scientific and/or corporate exploration.

The Byzantium series is set on a human space station
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As a science fiction author, writing about a galaxy already colonized and populated by humans, living alongside other races, I can imagine the excitement of these early days of exploration, the dangers, the failures, and the victories. The first encounters with more evolved civilizations, what we can learn from them…

It won’t take very long, but we may not all be able to take that trip to the stars. In the meantime, you can read about exciting space adventures in my books.

The Azura Chronicles are set on an alien planet 
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Happy Reading!

Vijaya Schartz, award-winning author
Strong Heroines, Brave Heroes, cats
http://www.vijayaschartz.com
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The Rocky Road—Tricia McGill

 

Fins all Tricia McGill's Books here

Ah, what a rocky ride to publication it is. There aren’t many writers who can tell you their first completed manuscript was picked up by an editor at the first attempt. Each writer’s personal journey is different in so many ways from their fellow authors—and there are innumerable hurdles to jump and lessons to learn along the way to publication.

The hardest to take at the start are those pesky rejection letters. But then we learn that each one is really just another stepping stone and when all is said and done, they just reinforce our desire to write and our determination to pass the publication milestone (that depends of course on the level of our desire to see our books read).

While sorting through old letters and papers the other day on one of my spasmodic tidy-ups I came across my first valued critique. This four-page document was written by a lady I never had the good fortune to meet, but her words of wisdom set me on the road to eventual publication. Her name was Leticia, and unfortunately although I have hunted high and low I cannot find the personal letter that accompanied this critique. If by any chance Letitia should happen on these words someday, I want to thank her from the bottom of my heart for the encouragement she gave me to keep going along my personal rocky road. The wording went something like this: “Unfortunately I am not a publisher of fiction but when your husband walked into my office with your manuscript in his hand and asked me if I would be kind enough to read it, I could do nothing but agree to his plea. He assured me you were a wonderful writer and had been disillusioned by one or two harsh rejections. I can see why you are a romance writer as you have your own love affair going.”

Not word for word, but you get the picture. Leticia actually worked for a medical journal publisher but that didn’t deter my husband who had more cheek than I would ever possess. To him a publisher was a publisher, so that was that. So, sometime later the critique arrived. I can’t remember if my husband picked it up or if it came by post. Leticia went into the marketing problems I had with this novel, then went on to give me her honest opinions on each character and how I could improve them, how I could change my story to make it more marketable. As I said at the start, this was over four full pages. But it was the words mixed in with the first few paragraphs that were uplifting.

“Well, in line with my remarks, serving the bad news first, the good news for you at this moment is that I found your writing very impressive. You show a real talent and the ability to become an even better craftsman as you go along.”

Well, that was all I needed. I was off, scribbling like mad (I had not acquired typewriter or computer at that stage). Of course, there were many more hurdles to cross and mountains to climb but that one letter was my personal catalyst. Next step was to join a reputable critique group, one with many talented writers who taught me so much.

In case you are wondering which of my books was that first scribbled manuscript, it never did get published in its original state, but ended up with many changes. It was unrecognisable from my first effort which was called “Trip to Paradise” and as Leticia warned me the title was one of the books main marketing problems. I notice on looking through published books on the internet that there are many books with that name or Paradise in their titles. I guess times have changed and my characters’ mildly romantic trip to Far North Queensland way back then is not what they mean by paradise now.

My dear husband died before my first book was published but I dedicated it to him. Without his perseverance on my part and his faith in me it might never have happened. He was the wind beneath my wings. I hope everyone else is lucky to have such a champion in their lives.

https://www.booksshelf.com/book-series/settlers

National Parks and Reserves of Canada by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

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 https://books2read.com/u/mYgK6x

 

National Parks and Reserves of Canada

I am a Canadian writer and all my mystery, historical, romance, and young adult novels are set in Canada. Canada is the second largest country in the world and has forty national parks and ten national park reserves covering an area of approximately 342,000 sq km (132,000 sq mi). This is about 3.2% of Canada’s total land area.

Canada’s first national park, Banff National Park (formerly the Rocky Mountain Park), was created in the province of Alberta in 1885 to protect the land around the Cave and Basin Hot Springs from being developed. Two more parks were created in 1886: Yoho National Park and Glacier National Park, both in the Rocky Mountains in the province of British Columbia. The land for the Waterton National Park, in southern Alberta, was set aside in 1895.

After Waterton it was nine more years before another park was created. The Thousand Islands National Park, which encompasses the one thousand islands of the Islands Parkway on the St. Lawrence River, was established in 1904. These islands are the remnants of former ancient mountains. Then, from 1907, when Jasper National Park was formed, to 2015 when Qausuittug National Park was established on Bathurst Island in Nunavut, forty-four more parks and reserves were created in the ten provinces and three territories. Each park or reserved was formed to protect the habitat of some animal or plant, or for its scenic magnificence. An example is Qautuittug which is the habitat of the endangered Peary Caribou.

One of the features of the parks are red Adirondack chairs. The placing of the red chairs began in Gros Morne National Park in Newfoundland/Labrador in 2011. The members of the park staff positioned eighteen sets of chairs throughout the park and held a contest to see who could find all eighteen sets. The winner won a pair of red chairs. Since then the other parks have followed suit and now there are over two hundred across Canada, all made from 100% recycled plastic.

Some are easily found while others require a bit of a hike. When you find them, sit and enjoy the beautiful view, whether it is overlooking a lake, taking in mountain scenery, enjoying a prairie vista, or listening to a flowing river. The parks offer much to see.

Banff is the most popular park in the country with over four million visitors each year. Tuktut Nogait, in the Northwest Territories, has the least amount of visitors with less than five. A combined total of over fifteen million people view the beautiful scenery of all the parks every year.