A few years ago, two young ladies from Calgary visited our farm.
They wanted a drink of water and ran the tap and ran it, waiting for the water to get cold.
I asked them to please get their water and shut off the tap, as we have to haul every drop.
They were flabbergasted. They had never heard of such a thing and looked on us for the rest of their visit as particularly primitive beings.
I didn’t blame them. I came from the city once, too, where water flowed from the taps and you never thought about it running out or going bad.
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And water does indeed go bad.
We have been boiling our water for personal use for more than a month.
First, the rural spring that we normally use went bad and was slapped with a “not for human consumption” order. We used that water up and hauled “good” water from town.
A week later, a “boil all water” order was issued because of impurities in the town water.
I found myself sympathizing with the Ancient Mariner: “Water, water everywhere but nary a drop to drink.”
Boiling water for dishes isn’t difficult. It’s just so much easier to turn on the tap.
In the summer heat, the added steam in the house from boiling water can make the kitchen more uncomfortable.
We have been lucky. The water is now OK and the “boil water” order has been lifted.
I have a new appreciation for those women of not-so-many years ago who boiled water their whole lives and who didn’t have the luxury of a water tap.
As we enter this harvest season, and as I look out my window at the ripening crop, I contemplate how lucky we are to have our “good” water again, to have food on the table, the fields, the sky, our family, our farm, our community.
I can’t help but wonder, though, for how long. I have seen many pack up and go away because of poor crop prices.
I see children – my own included – leaving for places where there are more opportunities.
The pages of our weekly and farm newspapers are slowly filling, yet again, with notices of land for sale or rent. How soon, I wonder, will we run out of buyers and renters?
At induction ceremonies for the Saskatchewan Agriculture Hall of Fame, Lorne Johnston of Eston, on behalf all of this year’s inductees, said “today you’re placing us in legendary company; we don’t consider ourselves legends and will try to be good stewards into the future.”
Hearing Johnston, and thinking of the average age of today’s farmers, I wondered where a new generation of stewards will come from.
