Rural Routes, Blog Version

“Portage Ex holds 4-H cow auction” read the headline on an online news site.

The story went on:

“4Hers gathered at the Ex to compete for best cows in their class and to eventually see their hard work come to fruition as their cows were sold at auction.”

I think there is an error here. I think that 4-H members sold their steers, not their cows.

Steers are not cows; they are neutered males.

A heifer is a yet-to-be cow. My children enjoyed showing 4-H heifers because they did not have to sell them; the heifers returned to farm pastures for the rest of the summer.

A calf may or may not become a cow. Or a steer. Or a bull.

I much preferred the headline that appeared a few days later: “Steer your way to Carman for the 4-H beef sale.”

I am probably being picky. Perhaps to the rest of the world the word ‘cow’ covers a multitude of genders and ages.

LETTER WRITING

I had always saved every letter I ever received. Some day, I told myself, I would read them again and then decide whether to keep or discard them.

When it came time to clear out our house on the farm, I decided that day had come. I started reading. Some envelopes went into the shredder; others found their way back into safekeeping.

But it was a time-consuming process and, although I worked hard at it, the job was still not completed when it was time to make the big move.

I filled a few bankers’ boxes and carried them with me to the new house.

Now that I have more time, I have returned to those boxes.

Many of those old letters were handwritten – some on pretty stationery, others on spare scraps of paper torn from a scribbler or notepad. Then people started to type their letters, scratching out errors in pen or later using correction ink or tape.

Just looking at the non-computer-generated words on paper takes me back to another time.

SNAKES AT NARCISSE

Earlier this spring I read an article in the New York Times about the Narcisse snake pits. (I am consistently impressed with the features that this newspaper carries.)

This particular feature included photos of an entangled mass of garter snakes at the pits this spring, as well as a photo of one of the site’s interpreters. To my surprise, I knew her. Her family moved to the area where we lived some years ago, although I believe they have relocated now. She and her younger brother were in the same 4-H Club as my children and the boy was in the same class at school as our son.

I have seen many pictures of the Narcisse snakes. And discovering that a young woman I know is employed there was interesting.

But the most interesting thing of all was that I was seeing her picture in the New York Times. Who’da thunk it?

PUSHING THE BUSH

We are lucky that our new home is near to a green space that we can use for walks with the dog. At some point in the future, the site is designated for development. In the meantime, we can enjoy it.

It makes me sad whenever I see another tree marked for removal because of disease. The bright red paint encircling the trunk stands out against the gray-brown bark. I call them red bands of death.

There are approximately fifteen deer in the area; there may be more but that is the most we have counted at one time. Usually we only see one or two at a time. We wonder if the motorists on Pembina Highway see the deer as they drive north or south, or if they pass unknowing.

Just yesterday, the dog headed into a bush on the grounds. I walked around the bush, confident that our dog would emerge when it was ready. But as I rounded the curve of the bush at its southeast edge, a deer burst out of the trees ahead of me. The dog followed and immediately came up to me. He has never been a hunting dog, but his attitude seemed to suggest that he deserved a pat.

“Good job,” I said. “You got her out.”

HEN AND CHICKS

“You cannot kill hen and chicks,” a woman said to me many years ago when she gifted me some from her own flower beds.

Ha.

I proved her wrong, not just once but many times over the following years. I tried and failed to grow the succulent plants in my flower beds.

This year, with a different flower bed in a different location, I decided to try one more time. I purchased and planted yet another hen and chicks plant.

Three times now, I have had to chase away a rabbit that has been nibbling on the plant. I was surprised because I thought that rabbits would prefer something a little more tender than hen and chicks. Disney’s Thumper would surely have opted for the nearby impatiens plant, especially with its delicate white flowers.

I don’t think that rabbits had anything to do with my failures on the farm, but I can see I will have a new challenge here.

LILACS

While digging through the boxes of old letters, I found an old newspaper clipping that I believe came from my paternal grandmother.

I do not know what paper the clipping came from, but it appears to have appeared in a November, 1966 issue.

The clipped article is entitled “A Tribute to Margaret Minaker” who was an author, teacher and one-time resident of Gladstone, MB. Her husband owned the local newspaper the Age Press.

The article, submitted by Minaker’s daughter Enid Priscilla McKenzie, was accompanied by a photo of the author and one of her poems entitled “Lilac Blooms”.

The last two lines of the poem go like this:

“Old love tales – and fires long spent –

Drifting smoke – and lilac scent.”

How lovely, I thought, and put the clipping in the ‘to keep’ pile.

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