I was born and raised in central Saskatchewan. From our farmyard I could see miles in every direction. Flat, rolling, golden prairie; east, west, north and south.
Anyone who has ever lived in Saskatchewan knows exactly what I am talking about. There is a joke about being from the flat prairie and being able to watch your dog run away for three days. It is an exaggeration, but not by much.
Now that I live in Alberta I only make it 'home' a couple of times a year. This Spring Break, we traveled to see my husband's parents in Regina, made our way to Saskatoon, saw my Grandmother and then traveled to Kindersley which was my home town. The last stop before heading back to Lacombe.
It has taken me five days to decompress from work and relax enough to get 'the feeling'. But today, right after we left Saskatoon, it came to me. The building excitement that one gets when they are almost home.
The city disappeared in a moment behind us and suddenly before us was a sea of dusty, bland, old-gold stubble fields, umber grassland and bleak spring prairie stretched out as far as the eye could see.
And it was absolutely stunning.
One of the most incredible things about the prairie in Saskatchewan is the horizon line accentuated by clear blue sky.
There are very few trees in the central and west central portion of the province where I grew up. The land meets the sky halfway and those living skies can leave a person breathless.
In the winter, when the ground is white, the sky is still robin's egg blue. In the spring, when the snow has gone and the showers haven't yet removed the dust from the world, even in the dismal dinge of newly uncovered earth, the sun still shines like summer. Brilliant and blinding. In the summer months when the grass is long and sweet and the grain is baby new and green, the warm winds will blow and the sky fills with gigantic white pillowy clouds that move lazily over the landscape in shapes and shadows. By fall, the land is ripe and rich, plentiful and golden; an ocean of wheat that ripples in waves. Pure praire wool. It is a simple and lovely landscape, far undervalued for the most part by those who whiz through in their cars on area highways.
But I don't care.
We hit the #7 highway this morning with a cup of black coffee and no radio reception and it was glorious. For the first time in weeks, and even months, my heart was at ease and my mind was still. The world was good, all because all I could see for miles was prairie.
My family doesn't have land in Saskatchewan anymore. The farm sold, as did my grandparents house. We were forced to move forward.
I wish there was a reason for me to stay a while. A farmhouse to go home to. A dusty driveway to walk down. A prairie pasture for me to lay in; with sage and Buffalo Bills. Crocuses and tumbleweeds. The bluest of blue skies and neverending prairie sea.
But there isn't and I have to be okay with that. I will be tomorrow, when we get in our vehicle and point towards Alberta. I do love the life we live together there.
Saskatchewan is no longer where I reside, but it is still my home.
I'm a prairie girl at heart, and prairie people are intensely loyal. To thier own and to the land.
My dad is buried on the prairie. My aunt Jane. My dear grandfather. I will be too when I am old and tired. My heart longs for the silent warm winds of summers here, and my soul dances through the fields when the grain is long and green and sweet.
Anyone who has ever lived in Saskatchewan knows exactly what I am talking about. There is a joke about being from the flat prairie and being able to watch your dog run away for three days. It is an exaggeration, but not by much.
Now that I live in Alberta I only make it 'home' a couple of times a year. This Spring Break, we traveled to see my husband's parents in Regina, made our way to Saskatoon, saw my Grandmother and then traveled to Kindersley which was my home town. The last stop before heading back to Lacombe.
It has taken me five days to decompress from work and relax enough to get 'the feeling'. But today, right after we left Saskatoon, it came to me. The building excitement that one gets when they are almost home.
The city disappeared in a moment behind us and suddenly before us was a sea of dusty, bland, old-gold stubble fields, umber grassland and bleak spring prairie stretched out as far as the eye could see.
And it was absolutely stunning.
One of the most incredible things about the prairie in Saskatchewan is the horizon line accentuated by clear blue sky.
There are very few trees in the central and west central portion of the province where I grew up. The land meets the sky halfway and those living skies can leave a person breathless.
In the winter, when the ground is white, the sky is still robin's egg blue. In the spring, when the snow has gone and the showers haven't yet removed the dust from the world, even in the dismal dinge of newly uncovered earth, the sun still shines like summer. Brilliant and blinding. In the summer months when the grass is long and sweet and the grain is baby new and green, the warm winds will blow and the sky fills with gigantic white pillowy clouds that move lazily over the landscape in shapes and shadows. By fall, the land is ripe and rich, plentiful and golden; an ocean of wheat that ripples in waves. Pure praire wool. It is a simple and lovely landscape, far undervalued for the most part by those who whiz through in their cars on area highways.
But I don't care.
We hit the #7 highway this morning with a cup of black coffee and no radio reception and it was glorious. For the first time in weeks, and even months, my heart was at ease and my mind was still. The world was good, all because all I could see for miles was prairie.
My family doesn't have land in Saskatchewan anymore. The farm sold, as did my grandparents house. We were forced to move forward.
I wish there was a reason for me to stay a while. A farmhouse to go home to. A dusty driveway to walk down. A prairie pasture for me to lay in; with sage and Buffalo Bills. Crocuses and tumbleweeds. The bluest of blue skies and neverending prairie sea.
But there isn't and I have to be okay with that. I will be tomorrow, when we get in our vehicle and point towards Alberta. I do love the life we live together there.
Saskatchewan is no longer where I reside, but it is still my home.
I'm a prairie girl at heart, and prairie people are intensely loyal. To thier own and to the land.
My dad is buried on the prairie. My aunt Jane. My dear grandfather. I will be too when I am old and tired. My heart longs for the silent warm winds of summers here, and my soul dances through the fields when the grain is long and green and sweet.
on March 30, 2007, 10:41 am
That's magic!
Reply to this comment