Cedarstone Acres 🇨🇦🍁🇨🇦

I believe my t-shirt says its all.

Sometimes you have to share your favorite nest.😉

@gentlemen_john Thank you 😊

@Cedarstoneacres Stunning

Yesterday we finished our second batch of maple syrup 😋 The temperature rose over the day to above 50⁰F, the snow and ice melted. The yard was almost bare except for areas where the snow was piled up. Definitely a mild wintery-spring day. Today a beautiful winters day 😊

@lacemaker102 You're welcome if you ever are over this way!

@Cedarstoneacres I could do with some of that. Wish I was closer. 😔

Things I don't have to worry about as a Canadian. *Being shot by an ICE agent *Being shot in a mall *Being shot in a school *Being shot in park *Being shot church *Losing everything to pay medical bills *My Prime Minister being an national embarrassment at home or abroad

Wishing you all the best in the New Year youtu.be/roGA2qmuOy8?fe…

@Mr_Husky1 The dress is lovely and you look marvelous! Absolutely the dress for you!

I’m really embarrassed to share this, but I desperately need your advice. I only have one real friend, and after today I’m not sure she’s even that. I took her to see my wedding dress and she couldn’t stop making faces before finally telling me it’s “too tight and doesn’t flatter my body.” I’ve been dreaming about this dress for months—the lace detail, the way it hugs my curves, that gorgeous open back. When I put it on, I felt like the most beautiful version of myself. But now all I can hear is her voice saying, “it’s just not flattering.” I’ve struggled with my weight my whole life and finally learned to love my body. This dress celebrates my figure instead of hiding it, which felt revolutionary after decades of wearing shapeless clothes to avoid judgment. But now I’m wondering if I’m deluding myself. I found this boutique from a recommendation by one of the crafters I follow online—I ordered most of my wedding decor from her shop. The staff there made me feel gorgeous, but now I’m questioning whether they were just being nice to make a sale. My fiancé hasn’t seen the dress yet, and I’m terrified he’ll feel the same way my friend did. Should I trust how I looked and felt in this dress, or listen to the one person whose opinion I thought I could count on? I need honest feedback from strangers. Does this dress really look bad, or should I trust my instincts and wear what makes me feel beautiful on my wedding day? Post Credit - Niamh Duncan

@tommy_pegasus Merry Christmas Tommy You deserve lots of treats 🥕🍏🥕🍎🥕🍏🥕🍎🥕🍏🥕 We gave Rosie 🥕🍏🥕🍏 with her morning grain

It really must be Christmas as I had an after-breakfast monster carrot! 🥕 Merry Christmas to you and yours everyone and I hope you all have a happy and peaceful day 🦄

Christmas dinner turned out well. Mashed potatoes with garlic, leg quarter from one of our turkeys, salad, cranberry orange apple sauce and dressing 😋 lemon pie for dessert

Merry Christmas Eve to our family and friends. We wish you happiness and peace over the holidays and in the New Year.🎄🫂⛄🎄

The list is extensive. recalls-rappels.canada.ca/en/alert-recal…

@CrazyVibes_1 So beautiful! A craftsman is a craftsman no matter what material is used. Well done 👍

My husband of 32 years just sent me this photo from his workshop, three tiny crochet dresses hanging on those little plastic hangers, and I'm sitting here in the Walmart parking lot crying into my steering wheel like a crazy person. For months, I watched him sneak yarn into the garage. Found crochet hooks hidden behind his toolbox. Caught him watching YouTube tutorials on his phone during commercials. But every time I'd ask about it, he'd change the subject, that shame clouding his eyes like storm clouds. His buddies at the construction site had been brutal when they found out. “Real men don't play with yarn,” they said. “What's next, gonna start knitting doilies?” The depression hit him hard after that. He'd sit in his recliner, those rough carpenter hands that built our entire deck just lying idle in his lap. One night, I found him in the garage at 2 AM, surrounded by half-finished projects he'd apparently been working on in secret. “I just wanted to make something beautiful,” he whispered, like he was confessing to a crime. That's when I told him about selling handmade items online. Showed him how other men were proudly sharing and selling their work—wooden toys, leather goods, and yes, even crochet. His eyes lit up for the first time in months. “You think… you think people would actually buy these?” he asked, holding up a delicate yellow dress he'd made. He created his shop under a fake name at first, too scared to show his face. Posted those first dresses with shaking hands. When the first order came through, he actually jumped up from dinner, tears streaming down his face. “Someone in Ohio wants to buy my dress for their granddaughter,” he said, voice breaking. Now look at him. Standing proud with his creations, finally ready to show the world who he really is. My tough-guy husband who can frame a house, fix any engine, and crochet the most beautiful baby dresses you've ever seen. Yesterday he sold his 50th dress online, and this morning he told his construction crew. They can laugh all they want. He's found his joy again, one tiny stitch at a time. Please, if you see this, leave him a kind word. He reads every single comment, saves screenshots of the nice ones. Because sometimes the bravest thing a man can do is pick up a crochet hook and create something beautiful, even when the world tells him he shouldn't. Credit - mjcmatthew

@CrazyVibes_1 They are amazing. He's very talented! I'm very sorry small minded people were unkind. Don't let the naysayers put out his creative flame. 🤗

My son hasn't spoken at school in four months. Complete selective mutism since the kids started calling him "the weird craft boy" who makes things instead of playing sports at recess. He's eleven and autistic, and art class used to be the only place he felt safe until his teacher told him his projects were "too babyish for middle school." He stopped making anything, stopped talking about his ideas, just came home every day and disappeared into his room with the door closed. Last week he was watching me work on snowman decorations for my online shop, these whimsical couples I make and sell for people's holiday mantels. Didn't say anything, just sat on the couch observing while I hot-glued fabric scarves and painted faces. Then two days ago I came home from work and found him in the garage surrounded by foam balls and fabric scraps he'd pulled from my supply bins, hands covered in paint, completely absorbed in creating these two figures. He'd been working for six hours straight without stopping, something he hasn't done since his teacher destroyed his confidence. He made himself and his little sister. The boy snowman has the same serious expression my son gets when he's concentrating, the same careful attention to detail in every button and hat decoration. The girl snowman is wearing pink because that's all his sister will wear lately, has flowers on her scarf because she picks dandelions for him every day after school. This is his first complete project since September, the first thing he's made that wasn't for a grade or an assignment, just pure creation because he wanted to express something he couldn't say with words. When he finished he asked if people would think they were stupid, if kids at school would make fun of them like they make fun of everything else he makes. I told him they were incredible and he needed to see that I wasn't just saying it because I'm his mom. He finally agreed to let me post this after two days of me begging, but he's been refreshing my phone every ten minutes checking for comments, needing to know if anyone besides me thinks he's talented. I buy a lot of my supplies from other crafters online, and I keep showing him their work trying to prove that handmade art matters, that people value things made with this much heart and skill. So what do you think? He's reading over my shoulder right now, hands still shaking slightly, waiting to see if anyone else sees what I see. Credit - Katie Thomson

"I'm Big Joe. 58. Long-haul trucker. Been driving 18-wheelers for 34 years. Sleep in my cab. Eat at truck stops. Talk on CB radio to stay awake. Lonely job. But someone's gotta move America's stuff. Two years ago, I'm driving through Nebraska. 2 a.m. See a car pulled over. Hazards on. Woman standing outside. Looking scared. I pulled over. She backed away when she saw me. I'm 6'4", 280 pounds, covered in tattoos. I get it. "Ma'am, I'm not stopping to hurt you. I'm stopping to help. What's wrong?" Her car died. Phone dead. She'd been there three hours. Nobody stopped. "Where you headed?" "Hospital. Omaha. My daughter's in emergency surgery. I have to get there." No hesitation. "Get in. I'll take you." "In your truck?" "Safest vehicle on this highway." She hesitated. Then got in. Drove her 60 miles out of my way. Got her there in time. She hugged me hard. "Nobody stops anymore," she cried. "Thank you for seeing me." Got back on the road. Couldn't stop thinking about it. Got on the CB. Told other truckers. "We see everything out here. We should do something." Started a code. "Code Angel" we call it. When truckers see someone broken down, stranded, in trouble, we stop. We help. Word spread. Truckers across the country joined. Last year, we helped 1,200 people. Dead batteries. Out of gas. Medical emergencies. Domestic violence victims escaping. Runaways needing safe transport to shelters. We've got a network now. Truckers, CB radio, truck stops. Someone needs help? We mobilize. Saved six lives last year. People broken down in dangerous spots. Diabetics in crisis. A kidnapping victim we spotted and reported. But here's my favorite story. Last month, I'm at a truck stop. Young kid approaches me. Maybe 19. Scared. "Are you Big Joe?" "Yeah." "You know how to ride in a truck?" His eyes filled. "You'd help me?" "That's what we do." I didn't go to San Francisco. But I got him to a trucker who was. She took him the rest of the way. He made it. Safe. Now there's 4,000 truckers in Code Angel. We've got an app. Dispatchers. Resources. News called us "Guardian Angels of the Highway." But we're just truckers. Doing what's right. That woman in Nebraska? Her daughter survived surgery. She sends me Christmas cards every year. The kid I helped? He's in college now. Studying social work. Says he wants to help invisible people like truckers helped him. I'm Big Joe. I drive a truck. Sleep in parking lots. Smell like diesel. But I learned something. The loneliest roads are where people need help most. And the scariest-looking people are sometimes the ones who stop. So tomorrow, if you break down, if you're stranded, if you're running from something bad, Look for the trucks. We're watching. We're listening. We might look rough. But we'll get you home. Because the highway doesn't have to be lonely. Not when 4,000 truckers refuse to drive past people in trouble." . Let this story reach more hearts.... . Ai image is for demonstration purpose only. . By Grace Jenkins

This is devastating. This is horrible. This is the very antithesis of what America is. Every Republican should lose in 2026 because of this. Every single one. This is on them. This is on all of them.👇

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@linda16675729 I'm so very sorry. 🥲

My big beautiful baby didn’t make it last night. There was no better dog! Always near me, a gentle loving dog. I’m not sure what I will do without her. I’m devastated. My heart is in a million pieces