Snowscapes

When winter comes, the prairies start to look a bit like the surface of the moon.  So far the snow has been light in the southern part of the province, which is good for driving, bad for spring moisture.  But even the shortest of drifts get windswept into miniature dunes.

 

 

And on a bad day, when the wind is howling, little creatures cross the dunes in search of windbreak.  such was the case of these prairie chickens, who were rather camera shy and this one shot through the blowing snow and windowpane was all I got...they scattered when I opened the door willing to freeze to get a better photo.  Probably better for both of us, as I stayed warm, and they flew to some trees where it was probably warmer as well.

 

 

But once more I digress.  We left off in Saskatoon, more specifically, the long drive home.  This time around it was fortunately uneventful.  No random audio recordings were sent to the middle east, but a few random photographs were taken along the way home.  First up was just a pretty winter scene, just south of Saskatoon, which has more snow than southern Saskatchewan at the present.

 

Next up was just the view down another lonely gravel road.  Sometimes we prairie people forget how decadent all this open air and open spaces can be to urban dwellers.

As the sun started to go down and the moon started to rise, I pulled off the road just north of Kyle, near an abandoned yard I had spied with my little eye on the way to Saskatoon but was too short of time to stop at.  It was a picturesque little spot.

Roadside in central Saskatchewan as the moon rises

Despite the unnerving single set of footprints that led off the roadside and into the abandoned yard with the cool trees and empty shack, I followed the same path, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be hunkered down in the area for some unknown reason...there were no other vehicles in sight.  I never did see the owner of the other footprints, or figure out where they had headed to, since there was no way to go but into the building or into the empty field (let's just say I didn't stick my head in the building).

From inside the abandoned yard

pretty old grees

A web of old trees

 

Aaaand, the shot I came in for

Saskatoon and Frisky Fondue?

Day 2 of girls weekend, a Tuesday, we set out to do some Christmas shopping!  Saskatoon is about 350 kilometers north of where I have been staying.  Temperature does not always function like a simple gradient of gradual cooling as you travel further north...but on this particular day, it did.  As Monique and I headed out into the -27, windchill factor unknown, we were like "it doesn't FEEEEL that bad for -27."  Only a true Canadian would say that.  Or a penguin perhaps.

We were looking for just about everything, so it didn't really matter where we went.  But the Midtown Plaza downtown shopping mall was our first choice, so off we went.  Despite both of us having been "off sugar" for a couple of weeks, we decided to dine at the mall, with a giant Starbucks and a main course from "The Cupcake Conspiracy."  So much for my planned 30 days of goodness, but what can I say, I am a social cupcake consumer.  It's not like I eat cupcakes at home alone or anything...at least not since I got back to Canada.

After that, it was shopping time.  It was nice to get to a bigger center where there are some of the more popular chain stores, and some of the newer less well known stores, like Saje, where we slathered in smelly medicinal oils and then set ourselves loose in the mall to see if a) they worked, and b) if we could handle smelling like giant peppermints for long after application.  The answer on both counts was yes.  After a short while, my friend Tanya who lives in the city joined in to the shopping melee.  I am not sure if she enjoyed shopping with 2 peppermints, but she didn't really complain.  We debated a plan for dinner, and the chosen restaurant to meet at was "The Upstairs Fondue."  After cupcakes for dinner, my pancreas let out a little groan knowing some sort of chocolate fondue was on the agenda, and begrudgingly prepared to amp up insulin production.

En route to the restaurant, I recalled to Monique that I had only had fondue in a restaurant once before -- and it had been with Tanya and my sister at a little place in Banff called "The Banff Grizzly House" sometime back in the 90's.  The strange thing about that experience, was that even though it was the 90's, each table at the restaurant had a phone on it.  The phones could not dial outside, you could only dial other tables.  Now, presumably, if you knew anyone else in the place, you would be sharing a table.  We decided this must be some cheesy pick up joint idea left over from the 70's.  But it was mostly couples at the restaurant, so we changed the idea to a cheesy 70's swingers club idea.  Much to our dismay, our phone rang shortly after, as some swarthy disreputable types who did indeed look like they were from the 70's were on the other line.  We politely hung up, and carried on with our fondue, but I never really forgot what a funny little idea it was.

When we got to the Upstairs Fondue, present day, the 5 of us in attendance sat down and the waiter promptly informed us that we would all be sharing one fondue pot, and the portions allocated to the couples.  There was only one couple in the group, but there was to be no single ordering, so 2 would be served together and the least coupley person would get a half order.  Guess who he picked to be THAT person.  This whole couple requiring menu just reaffirmed our earlier suspicions about fondue and swingers.  It also set the tone for a lot of silly conversations about it, loads of laughter, and a completely fun evening.  Strangely, we had the place almost to ourselves, but the food was really good and we had such a good time that I would totally go back.  Check this place out if you are doing some group dining in Saskatoon anytime soon.  I also learned that fondue is originally Swiss cuisine, and the purist way to eat it is to use a hot broth rather than oil.  There is also a hot rock for grilling if you prefer.

That concluded our fun evening out,  The next morning there was still a bit of time for exploration before girls weekend concluded with our respective long drives back.  After a quick and surprise reunion in the hotel lobby with a girl I attended school with many many years ago, we decided to check out the city.  There is Broadway Avenue, with a lot of independent and eclectic stores...like the Peruvian sock, mitten, and clothing store.  There was also a whole string of yoga shops, which we began to call Yoga Row and use as orientation throughout the weekend.

 We found the posh houses by the University and the river valley (it's the North Saskatchewan that flows through Saskatoon).

 

 

We stopped to take a picture of one of the city's many bridges...there are 8 river crossings in the city, which is quite a few for such a small city, hence it's nickname the City of Bridges.

There were also a lot of churches.  Some quite striking.  These two were actually on adjacent lots in the downtown area.

Loved how orange this one was

 And of course, the Delta Bessborough.  This hotel is one of the Canadian National Railways, and many grand hotels were built across Canada by either Canadian Pacific Railways or Canadian National Railways.  This was a later construction, being in 1928, but it still has the same style as some of its older landmark hotels.  Being a rather famous Saskatchewan landmark, and rumoured to have a ghost, we decided to explore the hotel.  In we went, and found ourselves in the midst of an oil and gas conference.  We quite clearly didn't belong, but being in polite old Saskatchewan, we simply wandered through with just a few raised eyebrows.  We made our way to the top, wandered down the old staircases, and caught a glimpse of the pretty room interiors as we made our way through the halls.  No ghosts though, and river valley views were confined to the guest rooms...or the dining room on the 2nd floor.

We did find a few relics of time, like the old phone booths, and some intricate carved doorframes in the emergency exits, which must have been the outside face of the building at some point.

 

Our final stop was a great little Café on Broadway..."The Broadway Café," of course, where we dined among Elvis, Marilyn, and one other very special guest....

 



 

....Morse's very own, the fabulous, the funny, the super EMT...Andrea!

 

 

After that, unfortunately, it was time to go.  Saskatoon turned out to be an awesome little spot for a road trip.  It would be even better in the summer.  Of course, the company is what made it really a special couple of days.  Thanks all!

 

Mockingjay/Mockingfriend

I have been an absentee blogger again.  Sorry about that.  I was on the road a lot last week, and between the hundreds and hundreds of kilometers, hotel rooms, Christmas shopping, and catch ups with friends, there was just no time to write.  I even snuggled a relatively fresh baby in the melee of last week and the back to back road trips.

I kinda like road trips.  Just getting in the car and driving for hours and hours.  Even better when there is no arrival deadline.  Lots of time to sort the thoughts in your head, and ever changing scenery. 
Today I hopped in the car to drive to Saskatoon to meet a friend from Edmonton, for a girls weekend...well, a girls Monday-Wednesday.

I found one plastic dvd holder of pre-Bermuda CD's, and pulled it out for the road trip.  Successful playing of those CD's required a bottle of lens cleaning solution and a sunglass cloth (seriously, there was mud on one of them...and it wasn't even the "Puddle of Mud" CD that was muddy...yes that is a legitimate band name.)  A few blogs back I theorized about what your choice in music says about you.  And while I was singing along at the top of my lungs to Melanie Doane, a kinda folky rocker, I realized I was listening to feminist music.  I was kinda surprised by the implications for a second, but then I just carried on singing to the rest of the album, feigning silence when I met oncoming traffic so that no one would SEE me car singing.  At a small town stop sign, I glanced at my phone in the counsel of the car and saw there was a WhatAspp message, but I had not heard a notification.  At the stop sign, I reached down and held the increase volume button for a few seconds, and carried on down the road.  A half hour later I stopped for coffee in Swift Current, yes that is the name of a city, and checked my phone.  I was met with a very disturbing WhatsApp message from my friend in Qatar, the Dev.  It said "Are you road tripping? :) And a bit of singing!"  What?  I thought.  I scrolled back and to my horror, there it was, a little blip with my profile picture and a play button denoting an audio file.  I had inadvertently hit "record" instead of volume and fired off a lengthy clip of me singing at the top of my lungs halfway across the globe.  What can one say but "OMG!!"  It was followed by about 13 lines of hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha from my friend.  Apparently I not only made his day, but supplied him with digital blackmail that is going haunt me for a very long time.

The only consolation was that the drive had been very pretty. Amidst the singing I had pulled over on a few grid roads to snap some photos of the trees, which were totally snow encrusted towards one end and absolutely bare towards the other.

It was also striking that the sky was almost the same color as the snowy ground.  The light was intense and bright...but muted through the thick cloud layer.  As the drive went on I saw many more snowy fields, the occasional blue sky, and many more snowy trees.

 

 

There is a Provincial Park called Saskatchewan Landing, which I have photographed in the fall earlier in the blog.  But this looks much different covered in snow and ice.

Somehow the ice and snow make this area look even more timeless.  The prairies suddenly fall into these jagged hills where water peacefully flows through an ancient river system that shows the scars of more tumultuous geological times.

 

Unfortunately, Saskatchewan Landing is only about 1/3 of the way to my destination of the day, which was Saskatoon, Saskatchewan.  Saskatoon, just for information, is not the capital city of the province, but it is the largest city, with a population of 261,000.  It was named after the Saskatoon berry, of course, with the Cree name misaskwatminiskahk, literally translating to at the place of many Saskatoon berries.  The Saskatoon berry is a sweet, violet colored berry, that often gets made into jams and pies.  Probably not well known outside of Canada though.  Saskatoon has an interesting history -- initially is was a 21 acre section of land granted to the Temperance Colonization Society, which was seeking to relocate away from Toronto and the evils of alcohol.  Now a University town, the current population has strayed from those temperance roots.  Also interesting is that back in the day, the temperance settlers would have to take a train to Moose Jaw, a famous party hideout for bootleggers and gangsters like Al Capone.  After that it was a horse ride for several days to get to Saskatoon.

 

My journey, albeit somewhat embarrassing, was also much easier thanks to technology.  The drive only took 5 hours with coffee and photo stops.  And focusing on the present, the point of the journey was to meet with my Edmonton friend Monique at the halfway points between her home and my current address.  It was after dark and minus 27 when she arrived in Saskatoon, but it was onwards with the plan -- catching the most recent Hunger Games Movie -- Mockingjay Part 1.  I can be a bit of a book snob when it's a book or series I like...and I loooved the Hunger Games despite being far older than its intended audience.  The first movie I thought they did pretty well on, although I had my reservations about how it would translate into film.  It was only the closing scene with the dogs that I thought they lost too much in translation and got too crazy with animated effects.  The second movie, Catching Fire, was a rare case in which the movie was better than the book in my opinion.  And so I was very curious how Mockingjay would turn out.  The critics had been negative, and I was a little put off that they extended the 3rd book into 2 movies.  However, both Monique and I really enjoyed the movie.  It was easy to get lost in again, and oddly, I suspect the 4th movie can level out some of the odd characterization that takes place in the second half of the 3rd book.  I hope it doesn't take another whole year to see what they come up with!

Real Winter

I quite enjoyed trudging around in the fresh snow, taking pictures in balmy -7 C the other day (that's 19.4 F for those of you on the Fahrenheit scale).  The very next day, I woke up, looked out the window onto another pretty clear day, and contemplated taking some more pictures.  That's when I checked the temperature gauge and went...

It was -28 C, which is even in the minus range for Fahrenheit, that's -18.4 F.  Plus, unlike Bermuda, we have a factor that is reported along with the weather called wind chill.  Bermuda definitely had wind chill, the perceived decrease in air temperature as felt on skin due to the flow of air -- anyone riding a scooter on a January night can attest to that.  But most people I spoke to down there were unfamiliar with the the term.  It is part of the daily vocabulary in Canada though.  On this day, the wind chill temperature reported was -38 C, or -36.4 F.  For my colleagues in Bermuda from Jamaica and the Philippines who were asking about snow and weather here a few days ago...yes, it is 100 degrees Fahrenheit colder where you are than where I am now.  I decided to stay indoors.

For those mathematically inclined, wind chill in North America is calculated as Twc=13.12 + 0.6215Ta - 11.37V*0.16 + 0.3965TaV*0.16 where Ta is actual temperature in C and V is the wind speed in km/hr 10 feet off the ground.  For those of you not mathematically inclined (Helen in Bermuda, this is for you), it means a windy day feels about 10 colder than a calm day, and worse on a super cold super windy day.  Yes...

I decided to look a little closer at the windows, from the inside of course.  One had completely frosted over, obscuring any visibility whatsoever.

But in looking just a little around the edges of my unhappy face in the window, I found the magic of Jack Frost.

 

And especially along the edges, you could see how the frost had crept inside the mesh of the screen window, and gently weaved itself in and around the framework.  Europe has it's climbing vines, Canada has it's climbing frost :)

 

Mission accomplished...I found something beautiful in my day and even my windowman started having a better day.  Again, it's all about perspective.

Snow Day

"Did you miss the snow?" a friend from Edmonton texted.  "No, I hate snow and cold," I texted back while only midway through the first coffee.  I looked at the outdoor temperature display...-7 C.  Snow was fun as a kid, and in your 20's even when you were out skiing and snowboarding.  In my 30's, I started feeling the cold more, and long days on the ski slopes felt a little less fun.

But, I had noticed some pretty miniature snowbanks on branches outside my window, so decided to brave it and take the camera outside.  Much to my surprise, I didn't need a jacket, a simple hoodie and sweats were more than warm enough.  It was calm and still out, what a difference it makes when the air is dry and there is not even a subtle breeze.  I wasn't sure if what I was seeing counts as hoarfrost, or just gentle snow accumulation, but this is what drew me outside, the tiny snow cystals on tree buds.

Once I was out there, I decided I might as well just enjoy the winter wonderland while the weather is cool and mild.  So I wandered around checking out the little stuff that we sometimes don't have the time, or take the time to do.  Like how the flecks of snow build on only one side of each branch,

Or how one leaf was just not willing to leave its home.  Actually the little branch looks reluctant to let it go as well, frozen in its lifeline grip to the little fellow.

These little shrubs are have more snow volume than branch volume.

There were lots of intricate and delicate formations to be found.

 

But I think this  blade of prairie grass was my favorite. 

 

Everywhere it looks as though life was snuffed out, overpowered and outnumbered by its tiny foe, the snowflake.  A war of the inanimates perhaps.

The larger trees seem to have escaped the fate of the smaller shrubs.

All of the leaves and grass turned yellow long before the snow came, but I loved the burst of life this bit of green moss gives to the winter scene.

Not all is still and frozen though.  Someone wandered these trees before I.  Maybe snow isn't as bad as I remembered after all.

 

Fun Times With The Book of Lies

Sometimes, you are in exactly the right place at the right time.  And then there is the rest of life.  While bigger centers, like Moose Jaw (Moooose Jaw...which still doesn't make my Bermuda friends laugh as hard as at the city of Regina) formed in the 1880's, my hometown didn't come into existence until 1913.  These little small towns formed along and followed the new railway tracks at pretty regular intervals.  There are 3 tiny towns in a row where I grew up, each separated by about 7 miles of road, railway tracks, and fields.  In 1913, when farmers had to transport grain to the railway by horse and cart, and pick up supplies, this was a day trip.  And so it was necessary to set up all of these very close (but very far at the time) full service little towns.

These towns were filled with adventurers -- they were the first settlers in the area....homesteaders from east, from cities, and other countries.  They lived in sod shacks at first, endured a rugged and isolated life, and worked hard in a brutal climate.  These people were tough.  And although it really is a hundred years ago, my Grandma, who only passed away this January, was born in one of these prairie shacks with a dirt floor just 5 years after the railway came through and the town itself was born.  Of course there was no hospital...and even if there had been, that particular little shack was several miles south of the railway and in between two town sites, so it might have well been on the moon if you were in a hurry.  In my area, all of our grandparents rode horses, knew of people who froze to death, and attended one room school houses.  And it is all documented in the local history books.

When I was a teenager, all of the little towns in the area were celebrating 75th anniversaries of the towns.  In some ways this was good, because several towns would host "homecoming" celebrations, where all former residents were invited back.  There were parades, talent shows, dances, cabarets, and the streets were alive with people for a change.  Several nearby towns were all celebrating in the same summer.  It was virtually a hootenanny.  It was quite fun, for the most part.  The unfortunate part is that this all happened when I was in my very early and most awkward teenage years, and so I had to attend said hootenanny in "coke bottle bottom" nerdy glasses....and a plaid, floor length, period costume for one of the homesteader floats.  I think the cool older kids had a blast though.

In honour of all the homecomings, each area also invited all former residents to submit a family history.  Much to the horror of many of us teenagers, our parents just submitted whatever family photo was lying around all willy nilly, and we are all immortalized in these history books in whatever puffy sleeved puffy haired outfit and associated stage of awkwardness was going on at the time.  Each family recorded the members of their family and their achievements, the family history, and sometimes memorable stories.  In a larger city, personal histories are so easily lost.  But here it is all documented, all self recorded.

Every once in a through the years and during random discussions, someone would trot up the stairs and grab the history book.  What were the names of so and so's children?  Where were they from?  What year did the rink burn down?  The history book might just have the answer in black and white.  However, as I said the history was self recorded and mostly done by volunteer hours, so certain inaccuracies are present.  For example, one small town claims it was "once the world's largest grain market," as it have 7 grain elevators....or 8 if you believe the very next page.  One day in relation to some trivial conversation, my sister was declared wrong per the local history book.  Always one to be strong in her convictions, she declared the history book, "The Book of Lies."  It has been referred to fondly as such by our family for a decade or so now.

I had no interest in the books as a teenager, but I found myself cozied in with a trilogy of the book of lies the other day.  It all started with my Dad watching a WWII segment about Italy on TV.  I thought I remembered that my Great Uncle had been injured in Italy in the war, Dad thought it was in Sicily, and so I was not sure if I had the story straight, if he had made it to the Battle or Ortona or not.  I tried my failsafe -- I googled and Wikied the history of his unit, but digital records don't record a lot of the specifics that far back, least of all who was there.  So, I said "Hey, let's check the Book of Lies!"  Inside were the details I was looking for along with a few pictures.  He had indeed been at the Battle of Ortona, which was after Sicily.  I got to leafing through the pages, seeing pictures of the people I had only known as my friends' grey haired grandpa's -- here they were as fresh faced young men in military caps and uniforms.  Grandma as a newly wed, the great grandparents I never met but who look just like my brother, local newsclippings and stories of "the way it was."  I am old enough to appreciate and enjoy the books now, and gave them a rather thorough go over.  Enough so that the next evening when a neighbour popped in, we all found ourselves pouring over it, and I sat back and heard their tales -- the unwritten ones -- of all the shenanigans of the generation before, as they filled in the gaps about the people they knew and the adventures they had.  And so it is not really a book of lies.  It is a book of starting points, a brush stroke on the canvas of these communities.  A prairie pre-facebook if you will.  I think we all enjoyed remembering it a little how it was, a little how we wanted it to be, maybe just exactly as it was intended in the Book of Lies.

Some October Photo Faves

October.  The days shrink, the temperature cools, and there is a shift in the feel of the month that every sensory faculty in your body senses.  The air almost feels "thinner."  Less vibrant with sounds, less full of pollens, a little cooler and less "thick" with summer.  These are some of my favorite pictures from October around the farm.

 

 

My brother's combine ready for a long winter sleep after its toils



The sun abandoning the day long before the farmer does



Granaries -- the prairie monument

this yard, abandoned since the 60's boasts an unimaginable backyard for today's urban dwellers

After the harvest in the hills

Sunset and combine

Driving off into the sunset

The header, or spinny choppy bit for you city folk, in the sun

Twilight isn't just for vampires

This truck is "Prairie Thunder" and looks good in the moonlight

Short days but long hours

my mom wanted this shot of the trucks lined up

The sky Lexi cat loved to sit beneath

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