Twenty years ago this month, I gave up city life for the country. I have yet to regret that move, although I know several of my friends from those city days had (and may still have) doubts about the state of my mind, moving as I did from Ottawa to a farm 29 kilometres from the nearest town.
The few easterners who have been to visit us have all been amazed that the land is not, as reputed, completely flat.
When I had been on the farm a matter of weeks, friend Bob Knowles, who at the time was hosting CBC Radio Noon out of Regina, called to interview me.
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He wondered what surprises farm life held for me. I recall telling him “the wind.” I had never experienced the wind of a Saskatchewan spring and, while I have come to love it, that first year I found it unnerving.
I wish we could redo that interview in reverse 20 years later and he could ask me what surprises cities hold in store for me.
Having just returned from an Easter visit to Calgary, I know I would tell him “the traffic.”
I have grown too accustomed to our country roads where mine might be the only vehicle for miles, and the streets of town where it is not uncommon to drive for several blocks without passing another moving vehicle.
Picture me then in Calgary, at rush hour, clutching a city map (for I am the navigator on these excursions) hurtling down one of the many trails at what speed I don’t want to imagine, cars whizzing by on both sides and black signs proclaiming that we are in an accident zone.
We find ourselves in the wrong lane and hubby makes a quick jog into the next one over. My knuckles are white. Clutching the map seems futile, so I let it go and instead clutch the seat with one hand and the door strap with the other.
We come to an on-ramp. Traffic streams towards us. I try to brake but we don’t have dual controls.
My right foot aches from pressing it on the floor. Daughter giggles.
Husband pats me on the shoulder and promises not to kill me.
I have time to notice a store catering to cats. We are two lanes over and hurtling by, but I see a window proclaiming “turbo scratchers.” In spite of myself, I am intrigued.
In the morning, hubby offers to take me back to the store. I would love to take something home for the kids, but even for them I will not venture on that particular trail again. Instead, we head for the Trans Canada and home.
I’m still a city girl in many ways, but give me our country roads anytime.
