foran_object

Sunday July 16, 2006: Drive from out(in)laws residence in Calgary to wife's grandparent's farm in southern Saskatchewan

In rural Saskatchewan, the sign on the grain elevator is what makes the town. They blew up the local grain elevator in the 80’s Jen says. At that point I guess it stopped being a town, now just simply southern Saskatchewan.

As we drove through the Saskatchewan prairies, the scenery a change of pace from the Ontario farmlands where we live, I couldn't help wonder why there were no tress growing anywhere? Jen says the farmers cut them all down. This makes me mad and frustrated. The climate here is not overly conducive to growing trees; almost the exact opposite to where the beautiful California coast redwoods grow. Every tree growing here, fighting honorably against the elements should be considered sacred.

The sunlight falls in an interesting pattern over the undulating hills. The clouds casting their shadows like a camouflage fabric. Upon coming here for the first time, many people are surprised, as I was, to find that much of Saskatchewan is far from flat.

Listening to Miles, on my work laptop: the ‘Brew, Silent Way, on the Corner, and Pangaea. Perfect music for such a trip. Reading: Miss Wyoming by Douglas Coupland. The author that coined the term ‘generation X’ never fails to provide an interesting book, even if not altogether exciting. Again, the perfect book for being confined to the car on such a road-trip.

The experience of finally reaching the farm is difficult to describe, a mixture of, fear, curiosity and tiredness. There are in fact, not one, but two guns. Although they sit, not in, but propped against the wall, just outside the bathroom. I could see how one could be standing to take a leak, and see some small animal running around the farmyard. Shell casings litter the farmyard, together with the carcasses of several small animals. Also, there are clusters of bullet holes through various things: truck, platic containers, …

I was sternly warned about Grandpa. That he curses a lot, and that his politics were nearly exact opposite from my long-haired neo-hippy attitude. Turns out we got along fine. Over the coming days I told him about my use of chainsaw and other equipment in our forest, as well as my work on cars, and even my experiences welding. I think all of this garnered me some respect.

While I certainly miss the trees, I cannot deny the power of the sunset here as it plays across the breadth of the fields.

Advice from Grandpa, “Don’t shoot a deer that’s runnin’ away from ya. It’s all jelly in the back, you’ll ruin the meat.”

posted by foran  # 9:25 AM