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.