I am from the home quarter. Where a house rests upon an expansive lawn. Where flower beds of petunias are hemmed in field stone. Where a rotary phone hangs at a wallpapered entry. My fingers pull against the hard plastic dial, spinning it in a familiar pattern – careful to first put the receiver to my ear and listen for a voice on the party line. Hoping that I may be granted permission to visit our neighbours, Paul and Jenny. He is a mountain of a man. Tall and broad shouldered. Jenny is small and exudes softness through her face. Her voice. They share likeness in their splendid white hair. She will draw birds for me at her kitchen table while I eat the puffed wheat cake she made after we hung up the phone and I rode my bicycle a mile southwards. The cake is still gooey and warm. The outside is chilled by the freezer where she placed the pan, a quick fix to cool it in time for my arrival. If I happen to see Paul, it will be briefly when he comes inside to say hello to this child. He smells of soil. He is gentle and generous with his smile. I hope that Jenny will take me to the coop to collect eggs, though I fear the birds.
Such a wonderfully written piece — and a beautiful homage to your heritage and community. And even though we are from very different parts of the continent, so many of these experiences feel familiar. Also, I really like the paragraph break illustrations!
This brought me back to my childhood. Thank you for writing about it with love. I pray the people of Ukraine will prevail. They are a brave people & we owe them so much in Canada.
So many moments in this lovely piece evoke the joys and trials of childhood and the complexity of ancestry and our colonial/settler heritage. Heartful!
I grew up on a farm in rural Ontario and though, while not on the wide open spaces of Saskatchewan, even there it seemed like there was a big world out beyond the fields and gravel road near our farm. A farm that had been in our family since arriving from England in 1853. Your post brought back so many memories, memories of hours spend on a tractor circling fields like a zamboni driver which certainly gave my imagination free rein, biking gravel roads or dirt paths or being on a party phone line. (I even remember our ring was 2 longs and a short) Your writing style created vivid pictures & stirred up memories long tucked away. Thank you for that.
Such a wonderfully written piece — and a beautiful homage to your heritage and community. And even though we are from very different parts of the continent, so many of these experiences feel familiar. Also, I really like the paragraph break illustrations!
This brought me back to my childhood. Thank you for writing about it with love. I pray the people of Ukraine will prevail. They are a brave people & we owe them so much in Canada.
Sounds like good living up there. I remember how exciting it was to visit people with a trampoline. :)
I just love how your words are so poetic and how they rekindle similar childhood memories for me. Warms my heart and soul.
This is incredible. Seriously wow. Thank you for doing your thing.
So many moments in this lovely piece evoke the joys and trials of childhood and the complexity of ancestry and our colonial/settler heritage. Heartful!
Beautiful written! 😊 Reminds me of when I was young. Riding our bikes to the neighbours on graveyard roads!
Beautiful written! 😊 Reminds me of when I was young. Riding our bikes to the neighbours on graveyard roads!
It wasn’t summer until I had rocks imbedded in my knees and of course stubbed toes 😆
I'm really enjoying these essays. Your writing is so nice and paints such beautiful pictures of your life. Thanks for sharing!
I grew up on a farm in rural Ontario and though, while not on the wide open spaces of Saskatchewan, even there it seemed like there was a big world out beyond the fields and gravel road near our farm. A farm that had been in our family since arriving from England in 1853. Your post brought back so many memories, memories of hours spend on a tractor circling fields like a zamboni driver which certainly gave my imagination free rein, biking gravel roads or dirt paths or being on a party phone line. (I even remember our ring was 2 longs and a short) Your writing style created vivid pictures & stirred up memories long tucked away. Thank you for that.