Windsor Plywood: Windsor Plywood in French Creek, specializing in hard-to-source interior and exterior home finishing products, including flooring, doors and mouldings, and exterior project materials such as yellow cedar. Windsor Plywood French Creek carries high-quality, responsibly sourced products and is committed to providing outstanding value and personalized one-on-one service to all of our customers: homeowners, do-it-yourselfers, renovators, builders, designers, craftsmen, and contractors. Regardless of the type or size of your project, Windsor can help you bring your vision to life from start to finish. Let Windsor Plywood in French Creek help you with your renovation, new build, or building project. Visit them online or call 752-3122.

The Ballad of Peter & Gracie: Peter and his dog raced there and through fields so wide, with dreams in their pockets and stars as their guide. Every day's an adventure under the open sky. In their world of stories, time just flies by.

Peter McCully: Peter sat by the window, watching the November rain make patterns on the glass. His fluffy white American Eskimo dog, Gracie, lay curled up beside him, her tail wrapped around her like a warm blanket. The leaves outside had turned golden and red, and many had already fallen to the ground.

"Why do you look so deep in thought?" asked Grandfather, walking into the living room with a cup of warm apple cider for Peter and himself.

Peter turned from the window. "I was just thinking about Remembrance Day, and we're supposed to wear something special, but I don't really understand what it's all about."

Gracie's ears perked up at the sound of Peter's voice. She always knew when something important was being discussed. She sat up straight, her black button eyes looking between Peter and Grandfather, as if she too wanted to understand.

Grandfather settled into his favourite armchair—the one with the soft blue cushions that Gracie sometimes tried to sneak onto when no one was looking. He took a sip of his cider and smiled gently. "Well, Peter, why don't you and Gracie come sit here by my chair, and I'll tell you all about Remembrance Day."

Peter scooted over on the carpet, and Gracie followed, her fluffy white tail wagging slightly. She loved story time, especially when Grandfather was the one telling stories. His voice was warm and comforting, like a cosy fireplace on a cold day.

"Remembrance Day," Grandfather began, "is a very special day when we remember and say thank you to all the brave people who helped keep our country safe and free."

"Like police officers?" Peter asked, stroking Gracie's soft fur.

"Yes, we're grateful for police officers too," Grandfather said. "But on Remembrance Day, we especially remember soldiers—people who protected our country during wars, which are very difficult times when countries disagree and fight."

Gracie tilted her head the way she always did when she was listening extra carefully. Peter noticed and said, "Even Gracie wants to know more, Grandpa."

Grandfather chuckled and reached down to pat Gracie's head. "You're right, Peter. Dogs have been helpers in wars too. They've carried messages, found people who were hurt, and been brave companions to soldiers who were far from home."

Gracie's tail wagged faster, as if she was proud of what other dogs had done.

"But Grandpa," Peter said, his forehead wrinkled with confusion, "wars sound scary. Why do we want to remember something scary?"

Grandfather nodded thoughtfully. "That's a very good question, Peter. You're right that wars are sad and scary, but we don't remember them because we like them. We remember them so we can say thank you to the people who were brave during those hard times, and so we can learn to be better at solving problems without fighting."

He reached over to the side table and picked up a small red flower made of fabric and paper. "Do you see this flower, Peter?"

Peter nodded, and Gracie sniffed at it.

"This is called a poppy," Grandfather explained. "On Remembrance Day, many people wear poppies on their clothes, right here." He pointed to the left side of his chest, near his heart.

"Why a flower?" Peter asked, taking the poppy gently in his small hands.

"Well, there's a special story about that," Grandfather said, settling back in his chair. "Many years ago, after a big war, red poppy flowers began to grow in the fields where the soldiers had fought. Even though the ground had been hurt by the fighting, those beautiful flowers still grew. They reminded people that even after sad times, beautiful things can grow again, and life goes on."

Gracie gently sniffed the poppy in Peter's hand, then looked up at Grandfather with her intelligent eyes, as if waiting for more of the story.

"The red colour," Grandfather continued, "reminds us of the soldiers who were hurt protecting others. And when we wear a poppy, we're saying 'I remember' and 'Thank you' without even using words."

Peter held the poppy up to look at it more closely. "It's pretty," he said. "Can I wear one tomorrow?"

"Of course you can," Grandfather smiled. "In fact, I have one just your size. And you know what? We could even make a special one for Gracie's collar."

Gracie's ears shot straight up, and she did a little spin of excitement. She loved wearing special things on her collar, especially if it meant she could be part of something important with Peter.

"But Grandpa," Peter said, growing serious, "were you ever in a war?"

Grandfather shook his head. "No, Peter, I wasn't. But my father—your great-grandfather—was. He helped during a time when the world needed brave people to stand up for what was right."

"Was Great-Grandpa scared?" Peter asked quietly.

"I think he was sometimes," Grandfather said. "Being brave doesn't mean you're never scared. Being brave means doing the right thing even when you are scared. Just like how Gracie barked to wake us up when she smelled smoke from the neighbour's forgotten candle last month. She was probably scared, but she was brave and helped keep everyone safe."

Gracie seemed to remember that night and stood a little taller, her white fur puffing out proudly.

"Your great-grandfather had a friend," Grandfather continued, "another soldier who had a dog back home. He used to show everyone pictures of his dog and talk about how much he missed him. That dog's name was Buddy, and he had fur almost as white as Gracie's."

Gracie wagged her tail at the mention of another dog.

"The soldiers would share stories about their families and pets to help them feel less lonely when they were far from home. Those friendships helped them to be strong for each other."

"Did Great-Grandpa and his friend come home?" Peter asked hopefully.

"Your great-grandfather did come home," Grandfather said gently. "He lived a long, happy life and got to meet you when you were a baby. His friend came home too, and the first thing he did was hug his dog, Buddy."

Peter smiled and hugged Gracie tightly. She licked his cheek, making him giggle.

"You know," Grandfather said, "on Remembrance Day, there's something special we do at 11 o'clock in the morning."

"What's that?" Peter asked.

"We have two minutes of silence. Everyone stops what they're doing. People walking, cars pull over, stores stop selling things, and everyone is quiet for two whole minutes."

"Two minutes is a long time to be quiet," Peter said. Gracie seemed to agree—she was rarely quiet for that long when she was awake.

"It is," Grandfather agreed. "But during those two minutes, we think about all the soldiers and their families. We think about peace and how important it is. We think about how lucky we are to be safe and free."

"Grandpa," Peter said, "what else happens on Remembrance Day?"

"Well," Grandfather said, "in many places, people gather at special monuments—big statues or stones with names written on them. The names are of people from their towns who were soldiers. People place wreaths of flowers there and say prayers or poems."

"Can we go to one?" Peter asked.

"We certainly can." Grandfather stood up and walked to an old wooden box on the bookshelf. "Peter, I want to show you something very special."

He brought the box back and opened it very carefully. Inside were some old photographs, medals, and a worn leather diary.

"These belonged to your great-grandfather," he said, pulling out a black-and-white photograph. "This is him in his uniform."

Peter looked at the photo carefully. The man in the picture looked young and serious, but his eyes were kind, just like Grandfather's.

"And this," Grandfather said, pulling out another photo, "is a picture he kept with him. Look closely."

Peter gasped. It was a picture of a young boy about Peter's age, standing next to a dog that looked remarkably like Gracie—a white, fluffy Spitz-type dog with bright eyes and a curled tail.

"That's my father when he was your age," Grandfather said, "with his dog, Snowball. Your great-grandfather carried this picture with him to remember what he was protecting—his family and the peaceful life where boys could play with their dogs without worry."

Gracie came over to investigate, and when she saw the picture of Snowball, she sniffed at it with great interest.

"Gracie thinks Snowball looks like her!" Peter exclaimed.

"He does, doesn't he?" Grandfather smiled. "Your great-grandfather used to say that Snowball helped the family feel happy and normal, even when times were difficult. Dogs have a special way of doing that."

"Just like Gracie helps me when I'm sad or scared," Peter said, rubbing Gracie's ears. She leaned into his hand contentedly.

"Exactly," Grandfather nodded. "Now, let me show you one more thing."

He pulled out a medal from the box. It was old but still shiny, hanging from a ribbon with colourful stripes. "Your great-grandfather received this for being brave and helping others," Grandfather explained. "But he always said the real reward was being able to come home to his family."

Peter held the medal carefully, feeling its weight. Gracie sniffed at it and then looked up at Peter, as if she understood this was something important.

"Can I bring this to show my class?" Peter asked hopefully.

"I think your great-grandfather would be honoured," Grandfather said. "You can tell them about him and explain what Remembrance Day means."

Peter's face lit up. "I can tell them about the poppies and the two minutes of silence, and how being brave means doing the right thing even when you're scared!"

"That's perfect."

"And what else?"

Peter thought for a moment. "That we remember so we can say thank you, and so we can learn to solve problems without fighting."

"You've been listening very well," Grandfather said proudly.

Gracie barked once, as if to say she'd been listening too.

"I could tell them about dogs like Buddy and Snowball who stayed home waiting, and the brave dogs who helped the soldiers too!" Peter added.

When it was time for dinner, Peter helped Grandfather carefully put everything back in the wooden box.

"Grandpa," Peter said, "I think I understand Remembrance Day now. It's not about liking wars or fighting. It's about being thankful for the people who were brave, and remembering them so we can try to make the world more peaceful."

"That's exactly right, Peter," Grandfather said, giving him a big hug.

"And when we stand silent for two minutes, I'm going to think about Great-Grandpa and his friend, and all the soldiers and their families and pets. And I'm going to think about how lucky I am to have you and Mum and Dad and Gracie, and to be safe."

Gracie wagged her tail and licked Peter's hand.

That night, as Peter got ready for bed, he pinned the poppy Grandfather had given him to his jacket. He made sure Gracie's special poppy was secured to her collar too. She spun around the room, showing it off.

"You know, Gracie," Peter said as he climbed into bed and Gracie curled up on her bed beside him, "we're really lucky. Great-Grandpa and all those brave people made sure we could sleep safely in our beds every night."

Gracie made a soft woofing sound, which Peter knew meant she agreed.

The next morning, Peter, his parents, Grandfather, and Gracie walked to the ceremony at the park. There were many people there, all wearing poppies. Some had medals like Great-Grandpa's. There were even a few other dogs, and Gracie made friends with them quietly and respectfully.

When 11 o'clock came, everyone became silent. Peter held Gracie's leash and stood very still. He closed his eyes and thought about everything Grandfather had told him. He thought about bravery and sacrifice and peace. He thought about Great-Grandpa carrying a picture of Snowball and Grandfather as a boy. He thought about how important it was to remember and to be thankful.

When the two minutes were over, a bugler played a sad but beautiful song called "The Last Post." Then people placed their poppy flowers near the monument.

"Can I place mine?" Peter whispered to Grandfather.

"Of course," Grandfather whispered back.

Peter walked forward and carefully placed his poppy with the others. He stood there for a moment and whispered, "Thank you, Great-Grandpa. Thank you to all the soldiers."

As they walked home, Peter felt different—somehow older, maybe, or perhaps just more understanding of important things.

"Grandpa," he said, "next year, can we come again?"

"Every year, Peter," Grandfather promised. "Every year we'll remember together."

Gracie barked softly, and Peter knew she was promising to remember too.

And from that day on, every Remembrance Day, Peter, Grandfather, and Gracie would stand together, remembering the brave souls who had given so much so that a boy and his dog could play freely in a peaceful world. Peter understood now that remembering wasn't just about the past—it was about being grateful for the present and working toward a peaceful future.

As Peter grew older, he would always remember that November day when Grandfather had taught him about Remembrance Day, with faithful Gracie by their side.

The Ballad of Peter and Gracie: Peter and Gracie, the finest of friends, with tales of wonder that never end. In the pages of books or stars above, they find their magic in laughter and love.

Windsor Plywood French Creek: Brought to you in part by Windsor Plywood in French Creek, specializing in hard-to-source interior and exterior home finishing products including flooring, doors, and mouldings, and exterior project materials such as yellow cedar. Windsor Plywood French Creek carries high-quality, responsibly sourced products and is committed to providing outstanding value and personalized, one-on-one service to all of our customers: homeowners, do-it-yourselfers, renovators, builders, designers, craftsmen, and contractors. Regardless of the type or size of your project, Windsor can help you bring your vision to life from start to finish. Let Windsor Plywood in French Creek help you with your renovation, new build, or building project. Visit them online or call 752-3122.

The Ballad of Peter and Gracie: Peter and Gracie, the finest of friends, with tales of wonder that never end. In the pages of books or stars above, they find their magic in laughter and love.

Windsor Plywood French Creek:  Brought to you in part by Windsor Plywood in French Creek, specializing in hard-to-source interior and exterior home finishing products, including flooring, doors and mouldings, and exterior project materials such as yellow cedar. Windsor Plywood French Creek carries high-quality, responsibly sourced products and is committed to providing outstanding value and personalized one-on-one service to all of our customers: homeowners, do-it-yourselfers, renovators, builders, designers, craftsmen, and contractors. Regardless of the type or size of your project, Windsor can help you bring your vision to life from start to finish. Let Windsor Plywood in French Creek help you with your renovation, new build, or building project. Visit them online or call 752-3122.