There’s something about old-style grain elevators that continues to capture the public’s imagination.
I can remember a time when they seemed to never be out of view. On some stretches of highway, no sooner had your car passed one town and its elevators than the next ones would be faintly visible on the horizon.
And then, of course, we all know what happened. The grain companies closed those old elevators and replaced them with large concrete terminals.
The old-style elevator hasn’t completely disappeared.
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Enterprising folks bought some, and they continue to serve a variety of functions, none more important than reminding travellers that yes, there is a town here.
Some have been turned into museums, and at least one, which the Western Producer wrote about a few years ago, was acquired by a rock band and turned into a rehearsal space and concert venue.
Their absence can sometimes seem as large as their presence.
I grew up in Estevan, Sask., where I still have family, and my visits there take me through Yellow Grass on Highway 39, the only place between Regina and Weyburn where the speed limit is reduced to a crawl.
Maybe that’s why the missing elevator in that town is so much more palpable to me. The whole place seems weirdly empty without it.
So yes, we’re a long time ago from the golden days of the wooden grain elevator.
As a result, it’s interesting that the buildings have kept such a strong presence in popular culture.
I’m thinking, for example, of those intrepid souls who traipse across the Prairies attempting to photograph every remaining elevator and marking the spots where elevators used to stand but no longer do. Some of them compile their photographs into books, which I’m assuming at least somebody purchases.
But I was still a bit taken aback one recent Saturday morning while shopping in a bulk grocery store in the heart of Saskatoon. Besides the ubiquitous dried black beans and organic oats, the store also sells trendy kitchen items and ornaments.
The beeswax candles weren’t a surprise, but the ones in the shape of little grain elevators certainly were.
These prairie sentinels may have all but disappeared from our physical landscape, but they are still very much alive in our hearts and minds.
