SIGHTS AND SMELLS

Back in the day, many days ago, we had 12 quarter sections to our name.  I was new to this corner of the RM but my husband had lived and breathed this land all his life.  I wanted to be a part of the operation too so there was a lot to learn – beginning with all the land locations.  It’s pretty important to know where you’re going when you are assigned to go harrow NW34-08-31-W1, or whatever other mystical set of numbers he would rattle off.  It was a game to him so as soon as I had gotten the RM map figured out, he switched to ‘the old Belva place’ (the pioneer method), and then ‘just across from Jamieson’s gravel pit’ (the landmark method). 

For your information, these are all exactly the same place and there were 12 pieces of land at play.  Eventually there came a time when he couldn’t confuse me anymore, though.  I felt like I had graduated and it was now my farm too.

He's always said that he could take land identification one step farther.  He says that if someone dropped him in the middle of one of his fields in complete darkness all he would have to do was reach down, scoop up a handful of soil, taste it, and he would know precisely where he was.  This method has never been tested that I know of, but I know how he loves his land so it might be true.  Our little place on the Saskatchewan prairie is pretty special to us.

Sometimes, though, the opportunity for adventure comes up.  This past week the place to be was Vancouver to visit, and sight see, and hike up mountains.  We explored beaches at low tide taking in the salty air, hunting for sea shells, and tipping rocks over to discover tiny crabs scurrying away to new hiding places.   We took a ferry to the island to visit more family there too.  We stayed at an Air B&B, ate different foods, saw wonderful scenery, showed the grandchildren the aquarium and Stanley Park.  There was a bit of that ‘liquid sunshine’ BC is famous for but lots of the regular kind too.  We took one umbrella which broke so we bought another one.  We did the Skytrain/subway, the SeaBus, and numerous other buses.  One teenager lost his phone on a bus, but we got it back, and the other teenager left his backpack in a restaurant and managed to run the 3K necessary to retrieve it and get back in time to catch the ferry.  I know he’s an athlete and all, but that was impressive! 

The walking trails we explored took us through the tallest trees we’ve ever seen, the forest air was refreshing and smelled like moss and mushrooms.  We looked for our souvenir rocks and clambered over boulders to check out the babbling brooks beneath them.  Our walks around the neighbourhood took us past so many lovely front yards and gardens that it hardly mattered that we didn’t get to visit the world famous Butchart Gardens.  Grandma stayed home with the kids while the middle generation took on a grueling hike called The Grouse Grind in the rain.  They returned very pleased with themselves – a day full of making memories together, and they were still alive!

The last day dawned though, and it was time to go home.  One more bus to catch.  And then the train.  And then the plane.

The take off takes you out over the water before the plane turns back inland for its flight east.  I could see the waves, and possibly whales although I’m not too sure about that.  In no time at all we were over land again, first the city and then more rural terraine.  Being so high you can see how the roads and rivers wriggle around.  Common sense tells you this is because obstacles like rocks and mountains get in the way but from 15,000 feet up you can see no texture.  The scene that fades away into the clouds as we climbed even higher looked curiously random and haphazard.

Less than two hours later we descended back down through the clouds to find the order that prairie people feel comfortable with.  The scene below is as if someone had laid out an heirloom patchwork quilt, horizon to horizon; half mile squares of greens and golds for as far as the eye can see.   Saskatchewan’s way of saying “Welcome Back!”

It was after dark before I got home but the moment I opened my car door I knew my return was complete.  The late August scent of ripe harvest enveloped me; I took in a deep breath of home.  This patch of prairie is part of me and I am part of it.

I think maybe it’s my version of tasting the dirt.

 

 

LONG TIME, NO SEE

My very first thought this morning was “I wonder where they are now?”

The answer was – and still is – somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, headed north and east.  The Pacific Ocean is one heck of a large body of water to fly over.  I know in 2024 the flight is measured in mere hours and weirdly, even though they have been in transit for almost 24 hours, (including a stopover in New Zealand) they will arrive in Canada before they left Sydney, according to the International Date Line.

But, back to me, and how it feels to know how soon we will be seeing them. It gives me butterflies-in-my-tummy anticipation every time I think about how close they are.  This next week is going to be time precious beyond measure.

A couple of the guys in my class ended up in Australia and made their lives there.  I remember thinking at the time how far away that was, and felt a little sad for their parents for the missed family contact, never dreaming that it would be our family story too.  But I have to say sadness at being separated is only part of the experience, it has also been a reason to travel and explore, learn more about their lives and chosen country, and read up on poisonous spiders and snakes.  We have been there three times and they have come home once for a family wedding and once for a white Christmas in the 17 years they’ve been gone.

Covid came along though, messing with the rhythm and making an already expensive trip much worse.  It’s been seven years since we’ve actually seen each other.  Thank goodness for Messenger video chats.

As I was putting supper on the table last night, we received a message saying they were on their way through security at the Sydney airport.  Although the plans for this trip have been building for more than a year suddenly it was real.  Shae was coming to Canada on a volleyball scholarship, Wayne was accompanying him to get him set up.  Jesse, her kids, and I are going to spend a week with them in Vancouver.  We have booked an Air B&B and looked into a bunch of touristy things to do.  Even though the charges for these things have all showed on my credit card it didn’t seemed true until that message said they were on their way. 

Since then I’ve been doing the countdown in my head.  By bedtime they were in New Zealand.

By 6:00, when I woke up, they were approaching Hawaii.

I just checked their flight’s status: at this very moment they have begun their descent into Vancouver.

We Saskatchwanites won’t arrive until Tuesday around noon.  Hopefully that will give them enough time to recover from jetlag and reset their body clocks for Canadian summer.

I’ve also been thinking about Jacqui, the mom who has already kissed her boy farewell as he set out on his big adventure.  I know that feeling.  The pride in his success, the worry for his safety and happiness, the struggle between smiles and tears as you wave goodbye.  The well-founded possibility that he will fall in love on the other side of the world and build his life there.  We both know this is a thing that can and might occur. 

We also know it’s not the worst thing that can happen.

So as I finish this, their plane might be touching down on Canadian soil.  Only one time zone away, which is quite refreshing in this family. 

Because I also have two grandsons fast asleep in South Africa where they and their parents have just settled into their house and started school and work.  They will be 8 time zones away for at least two years.  Going to visit them will take even longer that the Australia trip, but I’m not going to worry about that right now.  I’m waiting for the “We’re here!” message that should be coming in at any moment.

 

PUBLIC PRIVATE SECRET

A while ago I read an excerpt from a book on Jackie Kennedy Onasis where she was quoted saying that she had three lives: a public life, a private life, and a secret life.  I hadn’t thought about it that way before, but don’t we all?

Not that my life in any way compares to that of a world-famous woman such as herself – and I wouldn’t trade places with her for any price – but what she said perfectly fits how I see myself. 

There is the public Jocelyn who you will see out and about in stores, at the post office, at public functions.  I’ve also written a newspaper column for a local audience for years, candidly telling stories of life in our house to the point where people who read them think they are being told the whole story.  Because my writing style is relaxed and open there is an illusion of full disclosure.  Believe me, the line may be blurred at times, but there is always a line I don’t cross.  Public is public, private is private.

Occasionally I do venture into writing about what I think – my private side.  These are the more thoughtful pieces.  I guess it could be said that my public side strives to entertain while my private side wants to make the reader think, and I’m willing to let enough of my inside voice speak to accomplish that goal.  Mostly though, I am the same as everyone else.  We tend to keep our private selves at home and share our idiosyncrasies with only our family and close friends.

Then there’s our secret self that only we know.

Think of it this way:  the public you sings a song out loud for all to hear, the private you has told a few friends that it’s your favourite song, but only the secret you knows why the song holds so much special meaning.  Everyone sees the public you, a few people know the private you, the secret you is invisible.

Or maybe not.

Last week I was in Regina doing some shopping.  Just wandering around a Walmart Supercenter with a list that took me to what seemed like every corner of the store.  Eventually I had crossed off all the items I was looking for and it was time to find the checkout and exit, but this wasn’t my regular Walmart and I was lost.

I was in unfamiliar territory, disoriented, dealing with too many foreign landmarks, and trying to make sense of the various signs along the walls.  I just wanted out of the maze.

If I would have thought about it, I’m sure I would have believed it was the public me standing there with my shopping cart.  Or maybe a combination of the public/private me.  But it seems that the secret me must have shown through.

“You look like you could use some help.”

A lady with kind eyes, a caring smile, and her own shopping cart pulled me back into my day with her suggestion.

Of course, I immediately said I was fine. 

That’s what a person does, right?  No matter whether we are, or not?  Besides, I had finally spotted the checkout sign.

But as she walked away I remembered the warmth she had spoken with, and how she had worded her offer.  Somehow she had seen all of me.

In hindsight I wish I had thanked her and invited her for a cup of coffee.  I have a feeling that her secret self and mine might have a lot in common.