Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that I’d grow up to be a farmer; or more accurately, a farm labourer.  I was born in Powell River, a pulp and paper town on the coast of British Columbia and spent most of my teen years in Vancouver.  I also lived for a time in Yellowknife, NWT.  It wasn’t until I went to university in Calgary that I came anywhere near the wheat fields of Alberta.

When I moved to Sedgewick to begin my teaching career in 1975, I entered a whole new world where the livelihood of many families depended on a good harvest.  I was fascinated by the farm equipment and the cycle of seeding and harvest and was humbled by the fact that my elementary school students knew more about it than I did.  Over the years that followed, however, I continued to observe from a distance. Even when I visited the family farm with Richard, I didn’t have opportunity to experience farming first hand.  I remember helping move cattle once, but for the most part, the men did the farm work and the women were in the house.

All that changed one Sunday in the fall of 2005 when my friend, Louis, asked if I’d ever ridden a combine.  When I said no, he asked if I’d like to and so it was that one sunny afternoon, after a day of teaching school, I drove out to the field and joined him on the combine.  What a thrill!  As we crisscrossed the field and watched the sun set over the waves of gold, I saw a beauty in this land that I’d never seen before.  I was far from the first person to be invited to ride along with Louis but apparently I was the first to fall in love with what he was doing.  The following year he invited me back and then in the spring of 2007, I also spent a few hours riding the tractor with him during seeding.  I enjoyed every moment and hoped I’d be invited back yet again.  Little did I know that I would soon become his hired hand!

Richard and I retired from teaching in the spring of 2007.  Sometime during August of that year, Louis stopped by the house to see if we’d be interested in helping out during harvest.  The economy was booming and seasonal help was difficult to find.  Richard spent some time swathing (cutting the grain) and I did almost all the combining (running the machine that separates the grain seeds from the stalks).  When everyone else went back to school in the fall, I didn’t miss it one bit.  I was on the combine having the time of my life! When we were in Japan last fall and I knew that harvest was going on without me, I missed it terribly.

Louis is 80 years old.  Over the past few years, he’s been gradually cutting back on the amount of land that he farms and this year his family suggested that he should retire completely.  Farming has been his life and his passion for more than 60 years, however.  I truly believe that if he couldn’t farm, he’d feel that life wasn’t worth living anymore.  We’re both working for him again this spring.  In fact, we’re pretty much putting the crop in for him.  Richard is running the air seeder which deposits seed and fertilizer into the ground and I follow up with the harrow/packer, a 50 foot wide implement that smoothes and packs the newly seeded soil.  Both are pulled behind gigantic John Deere tractors. Louis is the boss; making all the important decisions, maintaining the equipment and making many trips to and fro with fuel, seed and fertilizer.  With two rookies on the equipment, there’s plenty to keep him busy.  The arrangement seems to be working well for all of us and we’ve promised him that as long as he’s able and wants to continue farming, we’ll be here during spring and fall to help.

Louis is a wise and patient teacher.  He takes the time to answer my questions even though some of them must seem very elementary to him. He realizes that I want to understand not just how to do the job correctly but why we do things the way we do.  He even handled my frustration the first day of seeding with grace.  I hadn’t learned to read the field yet and couldn’t always tell where I’d already been and where I should go next.  I was disgusted that my lines weren’t always as straight as I thought they should be.  Louis knows me well enough to know that I was frustrated because I share his philosophy that a job worth doing is worth doing right. He also knew that I was stubborn enough not to give up and that with practice, I’d get better.  By the time he came around a second time to see how things were going, I was able to tell him that I was having fun.

When I’m out on an open field under the big Alberta sky, I feel such peace. I liken it to being on a boat on the ocean on a calm day.  At times we share the fields with deer, coyotes and birds of many kinds. When I look back over a field that I’ve finished, it gives me a great sense of accomplishment.

In addition to the fun of farming itself, there’s another plus to all of this and that is Louis’ wife, Doris, who is known throughout the countryside as a fantastic cook.  She makes supper for us every day that we work!  In the spring, we finish up by 6:30 p.m. and head to the house for a hearty meal. At harvest time, like many farm wives, she delivers supper to the field so that we can stop for a short break and then get back to work as every minute counts when winter is just around the corner.

If the weather cooperates, we’ll soon be finished seeding.  We’ve been delayed several times by this spring’s ugly weather conditions.  Last week, we had to wait for three days because the remaining fields needed to be sprayed for weeds before they could be planted.  Spraying requires almost perfect weather conditions.  First it was too windy and then it was too cold. Though the fields desperately need moisture so that the seeds will germinate and grow, they need to be dry while we actually work them. Once we finish seeding, we’ll be praying for both rain and heat so that there will be a bountiful crop to harvest come fall.

Many early settlers came to our part of Alberta from Norway.  Every May 17th, which is Norwegian Independence Day, the local historical society hosts a tea.  This year they decided to include a fashion show featuring vintage clothing from the Sedgewick museum collection and I was recruited as a model.

I visited the museum a couple of weeks ago to try on clothes.  I must admit that I couldn’t help wondering why some garments are considered to be of historical value and are carefully preserved in the museum while other similar items end up in the local thrift store!  I suppose, however, that the goal is to preserve a sample of different styles from throughout the years for the enjoyment of future generations.  As I perused the collection and tried things on, I also came to the realization that I have clothing in my basement that should probably be in the museum!

I modeled five items in yesterday’s show.  One of my favourites was a navy blue drop waist dress that I’m guessing might have originated in the 1940s. Unfortunately, I don’t have a picture of that one.  I also fell in love with an exquisite wedding dress that fit me like a glove.  I think there must still be a bit of the little girl who loved playing dress up in me!

Some of the other items that I modeled bordered on hideous.  As we hurriedly changed from one outfit to another, we couldn’t help but wonder whatever possessed us or our predecessors to think that some of the styles were attractive and ought to be worn in public!  The polyester checked pantsuit looks far better in the photo than it did in real life and the multicoloured tent dress was part of our final category known as Far Out Fashions.  Four of us appeared on the runway wearing various gaudy items and the audience was asked to choose the farthest out by clapping, cheering and generally indicating their choice as noisily as possible.  I won hands down.  No one else had the courage to appear in something that outlandish!

All in all, it was a fun afternoon and hopefully also a successful fundraiser for the historical society who are in the process of raising funds for some badly needed renovations to the old sandstone building that houses the museum.  Built in 1910, it was originally the Merchants Bank of Canada and later became the Bank of Montreal.

Yesterday was a gorgeous day so when the show was over, we headed out to the golf course with a group of friends.  After just one hole of golf, however, a horrendous wind storm blew in and the temperature plummeted.  I’m hoping to be back in my farming clothes and out on the tractor again this afternoon but there are snowflakes in the air this morning so it’s looking pretty iffy.

The blog has been oddly silent lately but those of you who still check it faithfully have not been forgotten.  Over the past week I’ve spent over thirty hours driving a tractor and I’m looking forward to sharing that experience as soon as I have some photos to go along with it.  I’ve also been busy getting ready to speak at our church’s annual ladies retreat on May 29 and 30.  I’ll be giving three talks over the course of 24 hours so there’s lots of preparation to be done.  In addition to that, I’ve been cleaning out the tent trailer and getting it ready for a cross Canada road trip in June and July.  I’ll be taking my new laptop on the road with us so the blog will definitely become more active as the trip unfolds.  Please don’t go away!

We spent the past few days in Calgary where we celebrated our grandson, Andrew’s, first birthday.  On our way to Calgary, we passed a couple of golf courses that were already open and noticed that a few hardy souls were out playing.  It was cold and windy though so we didn’t really envy them.  

The Sedgewick course opened while we were away.  It was sunny and warm when we arrived home this afternoon so we immediately headed out for our first round since the course closed in mid October 2007!  Neither of us played particularly well but it was great to be out there and my final score was about the same as it usually is at this time of year.  My putting was particularly dreadful but it’s early in the year and the greens need time to mature.

I first tried golfing over 30 years ago but I had no patience for it. I decided to give it another try about 15 years later and was immediately hooked. I’m not sure what had changed in the interim but I love being out of doors, away from whatever needs doing at home and I enjoy the challenge of trying to better my game.  I also like the fact that it’s something that Richard and I enjoy doing together.

We’re very fortunate to live down the street from a lovely nine hole course. We can jump on our golf cart here at home and drive it down the street and across the course to the first tee box all in a matter of five minutes.  Now that’s a definite advantage to living in a small town!

Golf is also very affordable here.  In fact, our annual membership, which allows us unlimited golf for the entire season, would probably only pay for two or three rounds in Japan.  That’s just one of the reasons that we didn’t golf there though. As much as we love the game, there were so many other interesting things to see and do and our time there was limited.  

The course has undergone a few changes since we were last out. Several old and dying trees have been removed and a new sand trap has appeared behind the sixth green.  That will definitely add a new challenge to our game.  I managed to avoid it today but Richard wasn’t as fortunate and I’m sure my turn will come.  After all, we’ll be spending lots of time on the course this year.

We’re usually golfing by the third week of April. Spring has been late arriving this year but we were anticipating the course opening today. Unfortunately, however, we had a late April snowstorm yesterday and once again, everything is buried beneath a layer of snow!

Though I haven’t golfed since the course closed at the end of the 2007 season and I’m very anxious to swing a club again, of much greater concern is the fact that the local farmers need to begin planting their grain crops soon. Spring work usually begins by the first week of May but, even though the latest snow will melt away quickly, the ground is much too cold for them to consider starting for awhile yet. The growing season is very short so hopefully we’ll see a major turnaround in the weather soon. Then I’ll either be out on a tractor or the golf course!

I think the people who name paint colours must be the same ones who name blue jean styles (see Fashion frustration – April 9).  According to the paint chip, I spent the past day and a half painting our kitchen and livingroom Moonslice.  In my mind, Moonslice would be a shimmery silver but that’s not even close.  It’s actually a very light yellow.  Personally, I think Buttercream would be a better name.  Depending on the light and the time of day, it sometimes look like a warm cream and sometimes a light sunshiny yellow.

The paint job wasn’t a dramatic change.  In fact, I simply gave the rooms a fresh and slightly lighter coat of the same colour that was already there.  My original plan had been to use some paint left over from the last time they were painted  but unfortunately, when I opened the first can, it was obvious that it had deteriorated over time and the colour was no longer Moonslice.  Putrid would be more accurate so off I went to the paint store for a fresh supply!

I actually enjoy painting.  It’s peaceful and seeing the fresh untouched surfaces when I’m done gives me a sense of accomplishment.  What I don’t like is getting ready to paint.  First came washing the walls with TSP and then rinsing them.  That was followed by filling holes, sanding, more filling and more sanding and then, finally, priming.  After living in the house for 28 years and raising a family in it, it definitely has a lived in look and the walls are no longer pristine.  As I painted, I recalled the chart that used to be penciled on one of the kitchen walls recording the heights of three growing children.  I also remembered rushing one of them to the doctor for stitches when his head met one of the corners a little too forcefully!

Now that the painting is finished, it’s time to decide which pictures and ornaments will go back in their old familiar places, which ones will be moved and which will disappear altogether to make way for the mementos that came home from Japan with us.

I started teaching Sunday School again the first Sunday that we were back in Sedgewick. The children in my class are in grades 1 and 2. Last week, on Easter Sunday, we talked about our treasures. Each child drew a picture of something that they treasure and then told us what it was and why it’s special to them. One little boy drew a dinosaur tooth from the gift shop at the Royal Tyrrell Museum in Drumheller. A little girl chose a doll given to her by her grandmother. After each of the children had taken a turn, one of them asked me what my treasure is. Without hesitation, I told them that my treasures are my grandsons, Andrew and Ayumu.

Biologically, I have only one grandson (not counting the unborn grandchild whose gender is not yet known) but in my heart, I have two. Andrew was born to our daughter and her husband on May 1st of last year. We’ll soon be joining them to celebrate his first birthday. Ayumu was born in Japan on the 14th of June. How he became my grandson is a story that thrills my heart.

Like many church-goers, we are creatures of habit and we tend to sit in the same part of the church every week. In Japan, we sat on the right hand side of the sanctuary every Sunday but one. On about the third Sunday that we were there, an usher directed us toward the left side and I ended up sitting next to a young woman who was clearly pregnant. I don’t believe in coincidences. I truly believe that we were where we were for a reason as it was in that spot that an amazing relationship began. Seiko and I began to talk. I learned that she was due at the same time as our daughter, Melaina, and that like Melaina, she was also carrying a boy. I told her that as I watched her baby grow, I’d be able to imagine my grandson and the stages that he would be going through. After knowing me for only a few minutes, Seiko told me that her son would be my Japanese grandson and that is truly what he has become. The first time she put him in my arms, she called me Granma!

Though the due dates were the same, the boys were born 6 weeks apart. Andrew, also known as Drew, arrived early and Ayumu, or Amu-chan, came late. This seems to have been a precursor to their personalities which are also quite different. Andrew has never seemed content to be a baby. Climbing and walking at an early age and insisting on feeding himself long before he was really able to, he is a strong willed little character who is determined to challenge his physical world. Amu-chan, on the other hand, is a gentle spirit. He loves to sing along when Seiko sings and her father says that his long fingers were made for playing the cello just like his mother and grandfather.

During his early months, we knew Andrew only through photos, videos and Melaina’s regular reports. He was almost 11 months old when we finally met in person. I worried that he might be shy with us but Melaina had shown him our pictures and he had heard our voices when we talked with her. Amazingly, when we met, it was as if he already knew us. Now it is Amu-chan whose progress we must follow from a distance. I hope that he, too, will know us when we meet again. It is also my heart’s desire that our two treasures might someday meet one another!

Shopping for clothes can be so frustrating! At 56 years old, I don’t want to dress like a teenager but I also don’t want to look like I’m ready for the old folks home! There don’t seem to be many stores that cater to those of us who fall somewhere in between.

Today I went looking for blue jeans. I’ve always been more comfortable in jeans than pretty much anything else. In fact, I fully intend to still be wearing them when I’m 80! That might be difficult though if I don’t have any better luck than I did today.

It appears that I don’t even speak the language.  One store offered curvy, classic or contemporary fit.  Though I liked the sound of curvy, I could pretty much guess that it wouldn’t be my style.  On further perusal, I discovered that curvy is “designed to give a shapely fit through the hips and thighs” and “fits a slightly smaller waist”.  Hmm… sounds just right for someone with an hourglass figure but not a boyish one like mine.  The only way a pair of jeans could give me shapely hips would be if they were padded!  Classic sounded okay too until I discovered that they have a low rise.  I like my pants to fit a little below the waist but since I’m rather long in the body, low rise just doesn’t work for me.  That left contemporary.  I thought perhaps I was a contemporary kind of gal until I discovered that they have a mesh panel to flatten the tummy!  Maybe when I’m 80, but for now I depend on my morning stomach crunches to do that job!  I thought perhaps I’d have better success at the next store but it was even more confusing.  After all, what in the world is a boyfriend fit?

Men don’t seem to be plagued with the same shopping woes.  Richard walked into one store, picked out a new pair of jeans exactly like the old ones that he bought two years ago and he was done!  So not fair!

When we told them about our home in Canada, our friends in Japan simply couldn’t visualize a town with a population of 900 people. I understand completely. I couldn’t either until I came to Sedgewick to teach school almost 34 years ago.

There are a lot of “You know you live in a small town when…” jokes circulating on the internet. Here are a few that I can definitely identify with.

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You know you live in a small town when…

Third Street is on the edge of town.

You don’t need to use turn signals because everyone knows where you’re going.

You call a wrong number and they supply you with the right one.

You dial a wrong number and talk for fifteen minutes anyway.

You decide to walk somewhere for exercise and people pull over to ask if you need a ride.

Your teachers remember when they taught your parents.

The New Year’s baby is born in February.

You can’t go to the grocery store without seeing someone you know.

It’s normal to see an old man riding through town on a ride on lawnmower.

The closest McDonald’s is 50 miles away.

Everyone knows the news before it’s published.

You drive into the ditch five miles out of town and word gets back before you do.

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It’s absolutely true that in a town this size people know your business almost as soon as you do. There’s advantage and disadvantage in that but one thing I’ve learned is that it’s best not to believe everything you hear.

In the spring of 2007, as our retirement approached and we began to mention our interest in spending a year teaching English in Japan, rumours began to spread. We soon heard that our house had been sold and that we were leaving for China as soon as school was out at the end of June! Even those who knew better than to believe these stories started asking when we were leaving long before we’d actually accepted teaching positions.

Now that we’re back, it’s becoming obvious that many people think we’re only here for a visit. The second question that many ask, after “How was it?” is “Are you going back?” or “How long are you here for?”  I suppose there’s one of two reasons for that. Perhaps they actually thought that we’d left permanently or more likely, in most cases, they simply don’t realize that more than a year has already passed since we left.

Are we going back? If we do, it will only be for a visit, not to work for another year. We had the option of staying longer, but family obligations would have made that an unwise choice and we really do want to experience retirement. If travel wasn’t so expensive, I’d love to visit Japan once a year. In fact, if I was able to, I wouldn’t mind spending several months there each year but this is home.

How long are we here for? I really don’t know. Sedgewick is a good place to come home to but there’s still a lot of world out there that we haven’t seen and we’ll certainly be looking for opportunities to spend shorter periods of time in other interesting places. In the meantime, though we miss the many wonderful friends that we made in Japan, we’re happy to be back.

I even came up with my own “You know you live in a small town when…” line recently. You know you live in a small town when the vehicle parked next to yours has a license plate number that is one digit different from yours. I don’t know who YKX 656 is, but we’re YKX 657 and we were parked side by side in front of the Sedgewick Co-op one day last week!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t consider myself particularly domestic.  For the most part, I cook because we have to eat.  On the other hand, one of the things that I missed when we were in Japan was an oven.  Like many Japanese households, we had a two burner gas stove with a little grilling drawer that was great for cooking fish or a couple of pork chops, but no oven.

Needless to say, in the almost two weeks that we’ve been home, the oven has been well used!  One of the things that I’ve always enjoyed cooking is the big turkey dinner at Thanksgiving and Christmas.   Turkey isn’t part of the Japanese diet.   In fact, the idea of cooking something that big completely astonishes them.  When my sister, her husband and five of their children, including three teenage boys with hearty appetites, came for dinner on Sunday, I cooked a turkey.  Yum!

Baking is definitely not my forte but I do enjoy making muffins.  There are already bran muffins in the freezer and this evening I tried a new recipe for cranberry muffins using the leftover cranberry sauce from Sunday’s feast.  We haven’t tasted them yet but the kitchen smells heavenly and I’m feeling a wee bit more domestic than usual!