Your Grandmother's Prayers are still protecting you.

 

My grandma passed away yesterday after a very brief & unexpected illness.  She was very special to a lot of people, but especially her grandchildren & great-grandchildren.  I don't know any other way to get through this grieving process, so I will share a bit of memories with you.  I grew up literally 100 yards away from my Grandparent's on the farm.  Grandma was like a second mother to my siblings and I, and we have so many memories of her it's hard to keep track. My siblings and I were able to know her when she was at her very best part of life.  I also know that because she was a "boy mom", she was so very happy to get two grand-daughter's right off the bat when the next generation came around.   She treated my sister and I just a little differently than she did the grandsons.  We were blessed & fortunate to have known her the way we do.

I have been going to visit her every few weeks since she moved to Saskatoon 2 years ago, and so I feel very fortunate to have been able to share life with her for this long.  I will forever be missing her presence.

These are my words for her:

If you don’t know who I am, my name is Carrie Ann Evelyn Matzner & I’ve known my name-sake for 35 years, 11 months and­_3_days. I am the second born grand-daughter of Evelyn, but because I was born & raised on the family farm in the house just 100 yards away, I also consider her my second “mother”.  A few years ago, she told me that she wasn’t going to have a eulogy at her funeral, because “what in the dickens would anyone have to say about me?”   I just replied, lots Gramma, lots, and told her I'd write one for her some day.

 

Evelyn Doreen Dutnall was born October 31, 1936 in North Battleford, SK- to Mildred & Ernest Dutnall.  As the third child of four, I’m sure she came into this world a quiet little bundle of joy, but being a Halloween baby, she would cheekily tell any grand-child or great grandchild that she came into this world flying on a broomstick with a tall & pointy black hat & cackling all the while. 

I’m told that Evelyn was a quiet, little red-headed girl, full of life & sharp wit.  As a child she said she enjoyed reading & swimming at the pool down the street from their family home.  Her family didn’t have a lot of money, and she said she would often help her mother with sewing or laundering or running errands to help make ends meet.  She once told me how she ran to the butcher shop nearby with a stack of freshly laundered aprons and when the butcher asked if her mother would like a drawn chicken as payment, poor 10 year old Ev thought to herself, “What in the dickens would mother want with a picture of a chicken?”  She soon learned that the word “drawn” doesn’t always mean by pencil.  She said she went back home with the drawn chicken and still giggled about the mistaken meaning every time she told me this story.  Grandma started & finished her school days in North Battleford and after graduating from grade 12, she immediately went looking for work.  Her ultimate goal was always to become a nurse, but she needed to save money to do that and so she found work as a school supervisor at Edward Lake School.  She worked at the school in the 1954-1955 year, and I believe she stayed at the Matzner farm just across the road, which is where most of the teachers received room & board.  She also happened to connect with her future husband there.  They got along quite well & became an “item”.  But being an independent, practical and driven young lady, Grandma worked for that one school year and saved up enough money to head off to the “big smoke” to attain her nursing career.  She moved to & lived in Saskatoon for the next 4 years after enrolling in the Saskatoon City Hospital Nursing program.  She often told me that she didn’t think she could ever repay what City Hospital did for her.  There, she received room & board, a small monthly stipend for essentials, and learned how to navigate the medical nursing field all while learning & working “unpaid” at the hospital, but she always said she came away with a reward so much greater than she could’ve ever imagined.  She was a nurse!  And she remained a nurse for the next 40 years.  It was her calling.

In 1959, Evelyn married Ervin Matzner.  They had 4 sons together and lived & raised their boys on the Matzner family farm.  My dad, Robert, was the eldest. Then came Kelly, who sadly passed away unexpectedly in 1972 when he was 12.  Ross was the third wild child and then came the baby, Leo.  Grandma was a busy mother & farm wife, raising her boys while doing all the hard work that came with living on a small working farm in those days.  Grandma was born a city girl, but she had the work ethic & tenacity to get through farm life too.  She hauled water, chopped wood, milked cows, drove tractor, threw hay bales, cooked meals for 25 people at the drop of a hat, and literally took on every job she was faced with, with a determined but cheerful stubbornness that would have killed some of the millennial kids these days.  . Grandma was never afraid to try.  I recall a story that my dad and & uncles would tell, regarding a certain dirt bike & their mother.  I believe it was Leo or Ross that brought home a fancy dirt bike & I’m sure they were probably teasing her about her not being able to drive this bike-and Grandma, being Grandma, decided she’d show them.  She hopped on that bike and I’m sure her legs didn’t even touch the ground and with an unknowing flick of her wrist, she let the throttle rip, and she climbed the nearby barnyard fence with that bike.  Now that I think about it, I don’t think I ever saw my grandma on a motorbike in the 18 years that I lived on the farm.

Even though Grandma was busy raising a family on the farm, she still worked enough in the early years to keep her knowledge of nursing fresh.  Once her boys were older, she worked  part time, then full time at the Evergreen Health Centre in Leoville.  There were many days were Grandma was the first one out on our rough bush roads after a fresh blanket of snow or a blizzard, and Grandma NEVER called in sick.  She, or my mom who was a nurse too, were often the trailblazers.  And that they truly are, in more ways than one.  In the later years of her career, Grandma became the Director of Care at the Evergreen Health Center.  She had great respect for the nurses & staff there who worked tirelessly to help the residents there enjoy a quality life.  She was lots of fun, but she also required respect from her staff and was not afraid to question poor work ethic.  Grandma was a good nurse and a good boss.  I guess I was never on the receiving end of one of her needles or her scrub brushes or her sharp nurse’s tongue saying “hold still now”, but I know that she was a good nurse because she had a heart of gold under that tough exterior. She continued to be a part of the Ladies Health Care Auxillary group in Leoville for years after she retired from nursing.

My Grandma was a people person, but not really into small talk- don’t get me wrong, she loved a good chat over tea, but if you really knew her, was she ever a witty character. She had to be- amongst a family of boys and men!  She always said she was a rose amongst the thorns.  She very often had a clever answer or a witty retort, or any readily-available comment to make. The friendly banter that happened at the dinner table or in her kitchen while the pan on the stove burned still warms my heart & brings tears to my eye, and not because of the smoke.  Uncle Ross & Grandma always had the best light-hearted fun, especially when she had the wooden spoon as her back-up.  Living with all those men on the farm, Grandma always threw on her tough exterior to tackle life.  But as her grand-daughter, I know that she could be a big softie and in these last few years, I don’t know if I’ve ever received so many wonderful hugs and had so many heartfelt discussions with her.  Her eyes would light up at the sight of family at her door and I will miss that sparkle dearly.

5 years ago, my grandpa passed away unexpectedly.  My grandma’s heart was completely shattered with the loss of her husband of almost 56 years, and her wit & cheery demeanour diminished slightly.  She was very lonely living in her big house on the farm, and so she moved to Saskatoon.  The first move only lasted about 6 or 7 months, and then she came back to the farm.  She just wasn’t ready to leave the place where she was meant to be. She stayed at the farm for another year or two and then was finally “mostly-ready” to leave the farm for good after 60 years.  She has been in Saskatoon for the past 2 years, and my kids and I have had the absolute pleasure of being able to see her every couple of weeks.  We enjoyed visiting her in her apartment, and during this crazy time of COVID lockdowns, we were fortunately able to bring her soup, bring her out for picnic lunches, and visit her outside her building in the garden area.  Grandma’s face would always light up & she’d give her signature “well hiiiiiiiiii!!!!” with a big smile when her great-grandkids walked through the door.  She always gave them the tightest hugs, and made sure to buy crayons and colouring books and cards so they wouldn’t get bored visiting “Little Old Grandma”.  She taught my daughter the basics of crochet, and my son that it’s ok to drink tea & dunk your oreos even when you’re just a little guy. She never shied away from being silly with them because she loved to be silly and have fun.

My grandma also taught ME & my siblings and cousins many things. We all have so many stories that involve her shenanigans-too many to really mention in full detail.  She taught me that she could make a really tight French-braid….and that a scrub brush is meant for knees and elbows too. She taught me how to make & decorate a cake.  She taught me how to swim & do cartwheels.  She taught me how to fight off a turkey gobbler or a grumpy old gander in the barnyard.  She taught me that I’ll never perfect her fried chicken recipe, and I need to spank the bread dough harder before I put it in the pans.  She taught me that a fabulous hat can sure make a person feel like a lady, and a good cup of tea can make the day better. She taught me that a good belly-laugh is something you can be proud of & that life doesn’t always have to be so serious. She also taught me that knowledge is power. She taught me about tenacity. About willpower. About humility.  About being strong for your family in the dark times. She taught me that just because you’re a woman, doesn’t mean you can’t have dreams and follow them. And just because you’re a woman, it doesn’t mean you can’t do everything that a man can, and most times-even better.  She taught me to keep my head held high, no matter what. That it’s ok to cry but you gotta get back up, dust yourself off and keep going because that’s how life works. Seize the moment and laugh often, because we’re not promised tomorrow.  She also may or may not have passed on a little of that “stubborn” streak… to all of us.

My grandma was an independent, proud & humble woman. Proud of her farmer and her boys. Her grand-children. Her great-grandchildren. Her entire family. Her life. She was a fun, smart, caring, strong, courageous & stubborn English-woman, who’s presence here in our lives will be forever remembered with fondness and laughter and frustration & tears and everything in between.  Only 2 months ago, after I dropped her off & made sure she got inside her building alright, she told me how lucky she was- and when I asked why, she replied that she had such a lovely granddaughter.  And I know that she felt that way about all of us.  And I am really lucky & proud to call her my grandma today…and always. Words are never enough in times like these.  I can only aspire to be the kind of woman she was & I know we will all cherish our memories of our time here on Earth with her. At the end of life, what really matters is not what we bought, but what we built; not what we got, but what we shared; not our competence, but our character; and not our success, but our significance.  Grandma lived a life that mattered, and she lived a life of joy & strength & love & significance.

I will leave you with a poem that I found resonated with the loss of this wonderful lady, Ev. Nurse. Wife. Mom. Aunty. Gramma. "Little Old Grandma". Friend.

A wife, a mother, a grandma too, This is the legacy we have from you.

You taught us love and how to fight, You gave us strength, you gave us might.

A stronger person would be hard to find, And in your heart, your were always kind.

You fought for us all in one way or another, Not just as wife, not just as Mother.

For all of us you gave your best, Now the time has come for you to rest.

So go in peace, you’ve earned your sleep.

Your love in our hearts, we’ll eternally keep.   

Until we meet again Gramma-Love you forever.

Carrie aka Miss Muffet

Hey guys! Did you know we're living in a pandemic?!

 Seriously though......I never in a million years thought I'd be saying those words.  But here we are...living and breathing in a global pandemic that no one could have imagined happening. And yet.... it did.

My kids have been at home since March 16, 2020.  It is now September 8 and they finally left for school on the bus this morning.  After SIX ENTIRE MONTHS spent at home.  

What is this craziness?!?  

When I took the annual "Back to School" photos this morning, it literally felt like I was sending them off to Kindergarten again.  All the anxiety and worry and unknowns are feeling pretty heavy for me right now.  But let me tell you.....I have never felt more anxious than when I listen to the news or read the million articles posted on the internet these days regarding how we should fight this Coronavirus.  Masks are apparently the most controversial currently.  I'm sick of hearing how a non-medical mask is going to save me from the 'rona.  I'm not a close talker.  I don't like being in another person's personal space and you can bet your a$$ I'm not gonna let someone into mine. I'm just gonna leave it at that.  My belief system is not in wearing masks, but I did send my kids on the school bus with them.  And I was sewing more masks until 9 p.m. last night because.....school rules still need to be followed for school. 

You know what? I know how to fight it.  Simplify your life.  Just be a farmer.  Or live in the bush.  Ahaha! I know it's not that simple but it's something we could all stand to aspire to-just a bit. The kids DO NOT NEED TO BE IN 10 DIFFERENT ACTIVITIES!!!!  You do not need to eat out 3-4 times a week.  Can't afford your mortgage payments on your 3200 square ft home...? Maybe your standard of living was way too high to begin with.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with chilling at home (in your 1970's built bungalow) with your family and eating a home-cooked meal around the dinner table every night.  Honestly....if this was the wake-up call that people needed to simplify their lives....you think we could have done it without shutting down the global economy?!

Our lives haven't changed much here at home & coming from a stay at home mom, that says something.  You know why? We've got work to get done.  My kids have helped me more in the past 6 months than they EVER have.  They do their chores. They help me in the garden & in the yard.  They may have fallen behind in their french language skills but they've definitely learned some life skills, and for that I'm thankful for the quarantine & lockdown.  This doesn't mean that we stayed away from others, because truthfully, we didn't.  We had playdates with close friends. We went grocery shopping (well I did-the kids sat in the car). We saw family members who were not part of our "circle" and we even hugged our GRANDMA!!!!

I'm a little exhausted by all the conflicting information that is being thrown at EVERYONE.  I hope that the fall cold & flu season doesn't cause even more world anarchy but with 2020, I just don't know. Someday, we'll look back on the chaos and think that it was sure nice to have the kids home & helping out for 6 months.

Life is always filled with chaos but I like to think that we all found a bit more simplicity amongst it all.  Our children will have hopefully learned something valuable from this COVID19 mess; whether it be learning how to cope with disappointments on SO MANY levels, or learning how to drive a lawnmower, or finding out that technology is only good if it's working, or realizing the importance of good morals, strong work ethic and family time.

I shall let you all ruminate on what I've found to be true (for myself and my family anyway) and save the rest of my thoughts for another day.  I apparently have to get to work on my to-do list; first item-drink my morning coffee without needing to warm it up in the microwave.

Until then,

Take care and stay sane!

C

Oops!

Last night I was out celebrating my brother's gorgeous fiancee, and was reminded through idle small-talk conversations that I do, indeed, have a blog!  Hahaha!

I'm sorry.  Again.  I've failed miserably at keeping up with this blog.  It's not that I don't think of writing, because my brain works a mile a minute and I could have totally written a novel since my last post.  I've been incredibly busy these past few months with summer holidays, harvest, and photography sessions. Also, many of my thoughts and ideas may come across as being quite controversial for some. 

I hate this crazy society that we've become.  A person's own ideas and opinions & experiences are judged so incredibly drastically, that I almost fear offending my readers.  Almost.  Just enough that I refrain from sharing my experiences and opinions on many matters.  Lately, everything that I would like to share seems to offend our "butt-hurt" society, and I just don't feel like defending my own life experiences & my personal take on them to the point that I can't remember them with enjoyment. 

I am not done with this.  No, by any means, I should be gearing up and letting the words fly across the cyber world that we seem to have drowned in.  Instead, I will bide my time until it feels right for me.  I would like to think that what I have to say is just a small drop in the bucket, which it is; but some people may take it the wrong way and blow it out of proportion & fill the bucket unnecessarily.  The readers need to remember that I am a stay at home mother, who is married to a farmer, who is married to the land that provides for us.  We don't leave often.  I speak to children (school age and mid-thirties, hahaha!) day after day, year after year.  Sometimes, I need to vent to a general audience, just to get the words out of my head.  Which means it may be offensive to others, or it may just be the words you have been searching for yourself.  Either way, if you want to continue following this blog, please feel free to do so.  But don't expect me to sugar coat anything.  And don't expect me to apologize for my life, the world, and the way that I see it.  I once read a quote by Henry Thoreau: "The question is not what you look at, but what you see."  It couldn't have been closer to the truth for me.

Right now, I'm going to bake Christmas sugar cookies with my kids and yell at them while they totally mess up the icing on all the cookies and fight about who gets which cookie cutter.  And guess what? I'm going to enjoy the hell out of my Sunday!

Until next time,
Cheers!
C

Well that was a booter....

My last post was December 18...2015!!!!!  I assure you that I had no intention of skipping an ENTIRE YEAR of blog posts...but...I did.   So if you were wondering what happened....I'm still kicking (and randomly ruminating on my next post) and am hoping to get back into the groove of entertaining my thoughts to paper.  Or inter-web, however you prefer to call it.

2016 What. A. Year.

We started out our year intent on spending more time as a family.  Life (and especially farm life) tends to creep up and crowd out the important and fun moments that our kids deserve from us as parents.  So, we took a little weekend-jaunt down to the provincial capital~ Regina.  We hit up the Royal Saskatchewan Museum and the kids got to run amongst the dinosaurs and the buffalo bones.  It was fun trying to decide whether or not we should leave them there in the teepee rooms, or pretend that we didn't know them and give dirty looks at their rambunctious antics every time a stranger walked by.  Just kidding; they had fun and so did we!  Next stop was the Science Centre.  It was pretty neat, but by mid-afternoon both kids were cranky, hot, and tired.  So was I.  I actually don't recommend taking kids under 5 to the Science Centre for an afternoon, as most of the activities are geared for an older age group. (8-10 yrs old)  And if you don't want to spend your day running after dirty over-tired kids, lugging jackets and bags and bottles of water up and down millions of stairs...don't do it.  The best part of our whole weekend was the hotel pool & water slide, and the free full breakfast that I didn't have to lift one finger to make. We also fit in a visit with my youngest brother and his girlfriend.  We don't seem to see them often enough, so it was nice to see them and their beautiful place.

Shortly after our trip to Regina, we were off again! This time, the opposite direction ~ Elk Ridge Resort near Prince Albert National Park.  Elk Ridge Resort is something that we've been doing with my farmer's immediate family members for the past 3 years.  We book cottages (which are nicer than my house) and partake in the many winter activities the resort has to offer.  2016 was the best year yet.  The weather was perfect so we were able to skate on their huge frozen pond, and take the kids tubing down the hill. We were also able to cross-country ski and snowshoe, as well as use the pool and waterslide facilities located in the main building.  It was beautiful and time well-spent with those we love most.  I strongly suggest hitting up Elk Ridge Resort if you plan to visit Saskatchewan in the winter months (soooo....75% of the year...hahahaha!)  Here's  the resort's website link : www.elkridgeresort.com

After Elk Ridge, it was time to stay home for a bit.  We got a puppy to fill the void in our broken hearts from the loss of our Wyser (see last post). He was the cutest little fluff-ball of fur, and to an animal lover like me, I couldn't resist his sweet brown eyes.  His name is Farley and he's everything to us, just as Wyser was. But.....he's a pup, so he has many naughty tendencies and he's a lot of work, but he brings me a lot of the joy that I was missing after the loss of my best fur-friend.

Much of our spring was spent hoping for the floodwaters in our yard to stay away from our house.  We actually had a fairly dry spring so I guess someone heard our prayers. ( or perhaps my swears?)  The crops were put in, the garden came up (except my cucumbers didn't make it), and the kids were back to playing outdoors daily. Bonus?! Potty-trained my littlest farmer....but still have to remind him while in the city limits, we must not pee on the nearest tree.

Summer was an absolute delight! 
My farmer and I went to one (out of the six!!!) of Garth Brooks' concerts in Saskatoon.  He is an amazing performer and brings an incredibly energetic show with him. 

My sister and I took some time for ourselves and jetted off to Scotland and Ireland.  We were away 2 weeks, so my farmer had to make sure our children stayed alive while I was travelling.  (Thank goodness for Mom's and Mom-in-laws, that's all I have to say!)
It was an amazing trip, albeit too short to see everything we wanted to see.  We spent hours wandering museums, riding sight-seeing buses around the cities, and taking tours to the coastlines and the Scottish Highlands.  Truly a fantastic and surprisingly enlightening trip to take with one of my most favourite people in the world.  I couldn't have gone on that trip with anyone else and I'm so thankful for the time we got to share; not as moms or colleagues, but as sisters.  Just like the good old days where we could spend hours just giggling about inside jokes.  Obviously it wasn't all roses and unicorns prancing, but we know each other well and forgiveness comes easily when someone stinks out an entire floor of the B&B with their rotten shoes, or gets completely lost in the streets of Dublin.   I will have to write another time of all of our adventures.

Once home from my adventures overseas, there was the garden & yard to tend to.  We spent some time at my parents' farm and hit up the beach to play in the sand a few times as well.  Also attended a family reunion back home, so was able to see many of the cousins that I hadn't seen in years. 

Fall arrived, and with it, SCHOOL. We enrolled our little dancing queen in the local French School and then she turned 5 a month later.  I'm not sure where the time went, but it's gone and I don't have a little girl anymore and it's sort of a sad period of transition for me.  I kept busy during harvest and most of the fall with my photography, so that was helpful in dealing with the loneliness I was feeling acutely without my right-hand gal.

Winter came early.  We received a large dump of snow Thanksgiving weekend (October 8,9) and it eventually disappeared enough to finish up harvesting the wheat that was still out in the fields in early November.

Then it was time for the annual pig-butchering weekend at the Matzner farm.  Probably one of my favourite times to go home.  As busy as it is, we all get to see each other and make memories together.  I can't even begin to share the memories that I have of this tradition that my family began decades ago. 

Then it was baby Jesus' birthday and there was another year gone (along with the ten pounds I managed to lose during my summer adventures).

I didn't wish to mention all the sad times we had during 2016, but don't think for one second that there wasn't any.  There were far TOO MANY, in fact.  Everyone will probably think I'm talking about the many celebrities dying, and the Trump presidency of America. The Trudeau-ism of Canada.  I am.  But I'm also talking about the family members who we have lost in the past year.  They were important to us.  To my farmer.  To my kids.  To me.  And their souls will forever be etched upon our lives, upon our hearts.  We miss and love them all and we will cherish the memories they gave us.

On that note, 2016 was a year of memories made and shared. 
I'm so thankful for the opportunities that came my way, and for the lessons learned along the way. 

2017 will be year full of changes and opportunities.  I will try my best to grasp onto them as they come my way, with an open mind and open heart.  And I promise not to miss an entire year of giving my opinion to the masses for free.

C

Wyser

Every good and true farm kid needs a furry companion.  I do not remember a time while growing up on the farm, where we did not have at least one or two cats (or ten) and at least one or two dogs following us around. We ALWAYS had a dog.  Cats, well, you see I love cats immensely, but they aren't the same type of pet as dogs are.  They don't show the compassion or the fierce loyalty that a dog will.  They don't tick you off, cower while you're angry at them, and come for love two minutes after they've been yelled at.  Cats are....aloof and enjoy holding grudges.  They do whatever THEY want.  Dogs will do everything and a little more for their "person".

We had some truly amazing dogs while I was growing up.  They are one reason why I am such an animal lover.  The oldest dog that I remember is my Dad's little blue heeler Smokey.  She was his pal, and his alone.  She went on the snowmobile with him while checking the trap-lines.  She rode on his motorbike with him.  She was his furry companion.  When my mom came into the picture, Smokey became her companion as well.  But when my sister was born-that was it.  Smokey wasn't too interested in this smelly, noisy little human, but her people said she had to be nice.  So she was.  And soon enough, there were TWO smelly, noisy little humans and Smokey was enamored.  We were her babies.  She protected us and followed us everywhere on the farm.  If the adults didn't know where my sister and I had toddled off to, all they had to do was look for the dog.  She was a beautiful dog, and smart and loyal too.  I remember when she died-I might have been 8 or 9 years old- and Smokey was an old dog by then.  She was deaf and crippled with arthritis but goodness did she love her people.  I'm certain she is the reason I hold a special place in my heart for dogs.

As the years passed, we attained more dogs on the farm.  We always tried to keep two dogs, so that they would have company.  In my time on the farm, we had a Smokey,Coco, Wolfie, and Dexter.  Dexter is another dog that makes an appearance in many of my memories on the farm.  He was an excellent herding dog, and was always keen to help put chickens to bed every night.  He helped put cattle into pens, and was such a friendly, fluffy guy, who was absolutely terrified of thunderstorms.  After I left home, my parents and brothers got a Buddy.  Now they have a Sarge (who loves to chase flying crows and spin in circles) and a Patches (who is a wanna-be house/couch dog).

I had only been married and living in Prud'homme for 3 months when I felt I needed an animal.  My farmer didn't have cattle- and didn't have any animals for that matter- and I was severely lonely without a dog or cat.  We had gone home for Christmas and I ended up bringing my cat Meeko (who had actually taken up residence at my parents' neighbours since I left the farm) back with us.  She was spoiled and totally soaked up all the lavish attention that was paid to her, as any typical cat will do.  Then I went and spoiled all her "catty" fun by bringing home a puppy two months later.  

My Grandpa found this puppy for me. 

His first night home with us.

Wyser and Meeko-love/hate relationship for life.

 

He knew I was looking for a dog, and he knew how important it was for me to have one in my life.  A man that he knew just happened to have a dog that had puppies.  They were Catahoula/German Shepherd crosses (basically mutts) and there happened to be a very different looking one in the litter.  He was black and white spotted, with ice-blue eyes.  My Grandpa told the man that was the one I'd be taking, even though I hadn't set eyes on him until the day my farmer and I picked him up.  It didn't matter though.  As soon as I saw the little girl carrying him over to our truck, I just wanted to squeeze him with happiness.

The ride home was where he decided to accept us.  We called him Wyser.  He sat in the back seat of the truck, and stared out the back window for an hour, only stealing a couple of glances my way.   Then he proceeded to be car-sick, and puked into the pocket of my farmer's bag.  I got out, cleaned out the puke, and we went on our way.  I sat with my arm hanging in the back seat so he would get used to me. Eventually, our new Wyser got tired of being shy, and lay his head down right on top of my hand and that was that.  We were going to be okay- I was his person.

Wyser became my best friend.  If you're from a small town, you'll understand that if you aren't born and raised in that particular town, you don't belong.  You'll never truly "belong".  But as a newly married "outsider", I can tell you that my only friend that first year in Prud'homme was, truthfully, Wyser.  I worked at that time, and I would tie him up outside the house before I left for work every morning, because I knew he'd follow my farmer to my in-laws.  Every day when I came back from work, he'd be SO happy, and I'd find new things destroyed.  He chewed everything in sight.  He even tore the bark from the cedar trees in front of the house.  We moved to a different house in the fall, and he proceeded to chew the siding off one corner of the house.  He chewed the doorway of his dog house.  He barked all night long.  He pestered the cat to no end, but only needed a couple of lickens from her before he realized he wasn't the boss of that one.  He was a true brat.  Then he grew older and he became such a well-behaved dog.  He never pooped in the yard (I trained him right from the start to go into the field for his business).  He barked whenever a strange vehicle came into the yard.  He kept the coyotes out of the yard.  He loved to go for walks & runs on his leash.  He loved going for rides in the van with my farmer, and had his very own seat.  He kept the muskrat population down as much as he could (he wasn't a very graceful hunter, but he loved stalking them).  When my farmer and I had our babies, he wasn't sure of them at first, but in the last four years, he protected them when strangers came over, always putting himself between the kids and the new person.  I felt safe when I had him at home with me, and whenever we went for walks or bike rides.

A month and a half ago, I had to put my best buddy Wyser down.  He was 9.  He had a tumour growing on his throat and one day out of the blue, it hemmoraghed.  (It's very ironic to me that I lost my grandfather-who chose this dog for me- this past spring in relatively the same manner-he was a stroke victim and never recovered).  All ironies aside, I took Wyser inside the house one last time, so the kids could say goodbye (they really didn't know it was the last time they'd be petting him, but I didn't want them to make a scene, I never would have made it through the ordeal to come).  Off we went to the vet. Wyser hopped in the back of the SUV,  and I made it 5 minutes from home when I decided he needed to sit in the front seat beside me if this was going to be his last ride.  I rolled the window down for him, he leaned over onto my shoulder, and we took an extra long time to get to the vet.  I had to fight back my tears as I explained to the vet what I thought had happened to him.  She was very understanding and went through all of the options that I could choose if I wanted to try and save him.  I knew, in my heart, that he wouldn't make it if he couldn't eat or drink.  So the vet went ahead with my decision to euthanize.  She asked if I wanted to stay for his end, and I said, "Of course! I have to!!!", and he crossed over as I held him and told him he was a good dog, petting him over and over.  It was very hard for me to say good bye to my friend and loyal companion. Even the vet was crying with me (she's known him for as long as I have, as she's been seeing him every spring for his yearly shots).  I'm glad that we didn't let him suffer, but I miss him every day.  Every other day, one of the kids will mention him, or ask "Where's Wyser, Mum?" and I have to tell them that he's in puppy heaven chasing muskrats and we'll see him again some day.

You're probably thinking, well, it WAS just a dog after all, but it really wasn't for me when you get right down to the bottom of it.  When I'm having a rough day, I miss having that interaction with him, especially when I talk to children all day long (stay at home mom's know what I mean!!!).  I miss my pigeon/skunk hunting buddy, my muskrat killer, my running buddy, my security alarm, my pain-in-the-butt bathroom trips outside so he could "mark" his territory at 3 a.m. 

October 2015

He never talked back, but he always knew exactly what I felt and he really did give the best hugs.  I hope we gave him the best life he could have had.  He'll be missed always and his place in my heart will never be replaced.  

"See you at home, pooch."

Raising children on the farm

Today's post is entirely my opinion (wait a minute....all of my posts are my opinion!!) and I apologize in advance if I offend anyone who's opinion shall differ from my own.

I read an article today in the Western Producer.  It was titled : "Kids and equipment don't mix" with a subtitle of "Children should have duties away from work zones: experts".  It was interesting and definitely came at a very opportune time in the farming community.

Earlier this week, a small farming family from rural Alberta sadly lost their 3 daughters-that's right, not just one, but THREE!!!- in a farming accident involving suffocation in a grain truck filled with canola.

My heart breaks for that poor family.  But do you know what their statement was to the wretched media (really??  why can't they just let the family grieve?)  This is from Global News: " Our kids died living life on the farm.  It is a family farm.  We do not regret raising and involving our kids Catie, aged 13, Dara, aged 11 and Jana, aged 11, on our farm.  It was our life."

Here are my thoughts on this whole thing.  The article I read this morning basically stated that children on farms should be kept away from any and all equipment and leave it to the adults. They should find child care. (do you have any idea how to find childcare in a rural area, because if you do, please share with me!!!)  There are "other ways of introducing children into the life of a farmer without endangering them" and "kids don't have a place there".

I'll fill you in on my upbringing, because some of my earliest memories, involve riding in/on farm machinery.

My mother worked as a registered nurse, most weekends, in the nearby town.  My grandmother also worked as a nurse at the same hospital, on the weekdays.  My dad and my grandfather were farmers.  When either of the women were not available to perform the "traditional farm-wife" role of raising the kids and making meals, my dad and my grandpa had to deal with it.  I can still recall, to the tiniest detail, the cultivator plowing through the dirt behind the tractor as my sister and I curled up on an old winter parka behind the tractor seat like little puppies.  The smell of the dirt.  The smell of the tractor fuel.  The smell of farmer's sweat. The smell of warm, milky tea in the thermos on the floor and the cookie crumbs on our fingers, mixed in with the dust.  If Grandpa got out of the tractor, we were not to TOUCH ANYTHING!!!  We were 3 and 4 years old, and understood. And yet, we were apparently too young to be there?

Some of my earliest memories were from behind the seat of my Dad's Deutz Allis

We didn't have a swather with a cab on our farm until 2 years ago.  Before that, if we wanted to bring my dad a thermos of water in the field, we would hop onto the swather beside him and hang on tight.  We would feed cattle in the winter with our Grandpa driving his little (again, cab-less) International tractor and we would ride on the wheel-wells.  And we knew to hang on tight and don't touch the levers.

I guess the point I'm trying to make, is that we were taught from a very young age, that you had to have common sense and USE IT around machinery and animals.  You have to realise that those machines are BIG, and those cattle are BIGGER THAN YOU.  Use caution to the utmost degree, even if you're so comfortable you could complete the task in your sleep.  You get out of the tractor, you shut that PTO (power take off) OFF!  You have a parking brake-USE IT.  You know that cow is an angry momma, you make sure you can jump that fence that you keep close to you.

I was 12 when my dad taught me to run his tractor and baler.  When I got home from school, I baled straw once I finished my milking chores.  I was 11 or 12 when I was told to drive the green Chevy across the field to get Grandpa and Dad for supper.  Of course it wasn't on the road, but a wide-open summer fallow field.  I learnt to milk a cow at 7.  We rode trikes, and motorbikes to chase cows when we were big and strong enough to drive them on our own.  (and when we weren't big enough, my sister and I would share the box on the back of the trike--you know those horribly dangerous 3- wheeled motorized bikes that flip on a dime and are now obsolete??)

You're probably thinking, yes, but sometimes common sense won't matter because things just happen--like the accident in Alberta this week.  And you are correct on that too, I know first-hand.  I lost my grandfather at age 7, to a farming accident.  He was run over by his own tractor.  Do you think, at 7 years old, I'd ever forget the way he looked in his casket at his funeral??  Because I haven't, and I think of him and all the tears that my family shed that day.  Every time seeding and harvest rolls around and my farmer gets into the "harvest panic-mode", I think of him and I remember.  Some things just aren't worth the risk.  Safety being first and foremost.

Raising your children to respect their environment-whether that be the land, the animals, or the machines- is what makes farm kids stand out amongst their peers.  And farm kids already know that farming is one of the top 5 most dangerous occupations.  In the WORLD.

I don't know the full details of what happened on that family farm in Alberta, but I really do wonder what possibly could have made 3 girls, aged 11 & 13, to be on the back of that truck filled with canola.  Were they playing up there? Did they know better?  Possibly?  Did their parents need them to shovel grain down or out of the box?  I hate to sound insensitive, but why would they be up there otherwise???  At 13, I know I would not have played on a truck box filled with grain.  I knew better.  Grain is dangerous -especially canola seed.  I shovelled bins with my sister when I was 13, I understand how it can suck you in and luckily, no one was ever hurt on our farm doing these things.  My mom worried, I know she did because all of a sudden we were forced to wear dust masks to protect our lungs. How can you not worry?? As a mother?? As a parent??

But....

I do not believe that children do not have a place in the work zone of a farm.  I believe they should be involved in all aspects of farm life, including the "work zones".  And they should be taught that FARMING IS DANGEROUS.   They need to be aware at all times when around running machinery.  When driving machinery.  When there are power lines overhead and you're at a bin yard with an auger.  When dealing with hormonal animals.  And if they are "too young", the adult needs to be responsible for that youngster's safety and his/her own.  I do not let my children go in the big machines without myself hopping in with them.  Because I get it.  My little farmer, he pushes buttons like they're going out of style.  My daughter can talk the ear off a donkey.  Kids can be distracting.  But they can also be TAUGHT.  My little farmer already knows that when a big machine starts up, he RUNS back to the house.  Just the other day, I had to start up our big 4 wheel-drive tractor because one of our machines got stuck in the field.  I quickly ran to the shed, with my little farmer somewhere 20 feet behind me.  I hopped in the tractor and fired the engine.  That's it, that's all.  My little farmer screamed bloody murder and booked it back to the house like his butt was on fire.  He's not even 2 and he understands the danger.  And I'm kind of proud of myself for teaching him those things.

I hope and pray that nothing tragic ever befalls my dearest family members.  I do not ever wish to bury my own children or my own farmer.  Being a farm kid and a farmer's wife, nothing in this world scares me more than that.

I pray that the family in Alberta finds the courage to continue on, in the face of tragedy and despair.  Because I'm sure they did the best they could, and that's all we ever can do in this world.  Keep on, keeping on, and be safe!

xo
Carrie

Farming = Animal Abuse. Did I miss something????

It's HARVEST TIME here on the Hounjet Farm!!!!  (And pretty much every other farm in the province right now)  Which means lots of trips to the fields, meals to prepare, lunches to pack, and in my case, pictures to take. :)

Just last night, I decided the kids and I needed to get out of the house for a bit.  We packed up my farmer's HOT supper (yep, he's spoiled big-time!!) and picked up my farmer's dad, farmer's brother, and the hired man's HOT suppers as well (yep, they're spoiled too!!!).  Off we went to the field!

After fighting off the mosquitoes while the farmers ate their suppers, the kids and I hopped in the combine with my farmer's dad.  The kids loved it.  Their Pepere loved it (I'm sure Elise's matter-of-fact stories will never get old) and I enjoyed the little break from the monotony of the day.  I, of course, took a few pictures!  I'm active on social media, and no, I don't mind posting photos of my farm kids doing typical farm things on the Internet.

I captured and posted this photo on my personal Twitter account, with the caption/hash tags:  "#harvest15 #fourthgenerationfarmer #farmlife #farm365 #westcdnag #takingoffthewheat"

I love it.  It epitomizes my life and theirs.  Now here's what I have to deal with following my totally innocent and beautiful #farmlife post; some crackpot, social media TROLL that goes by the Twitter name @jesusxanimals, commenting and telling me that what I'm doing is the culture of death, and it's ANIMAL ABUSE.  Excuse me? What? I'm so confused right now....

Here's our "conversation" up until I decided to block the TROLL and continue on enjoying my #farmlife.  Except I didn't continue on enjoying.  I wasted my entire lunch hour with my farm kids (who were eating home-grown vegetables and ethically-raised meat) pondering on what this total stranger had to say to me via social media.

First this comment... #animalabuse ????

Umm.....yep...damn straight I'm teaching farming to children....

I tried to keep it civil.  Which is how I ended this by blocking @Jesusxanimals before I got into it "publicly"

  They just don't get it.  There are so many ignorant people in this world, (like @jesusxanimals)  and they believe that by hiding behind a screen and typing  ignorant comments to random STRANGERS that this will somehow change THEIR world for the better.  I'm sorry.  I don't agree.

I eat.  You eat.  Everyone eats.  I gather this "person" was vegan (#govegan) and all the power to them for THEIR choice.  BUT---who feeds this person their vegan food?  That's right.....a farmer.  And how did #takingoffthewheat and #farm365 turn into a conversation about #animalabuse and akin to the holocaust?????  I'm just....blown away by the thought of this! 

Farming is not "the culture of death".  I absolutely, straight out LAUGHED at this comment.  

Maybe I'm the ignorant one, but I'd like to think otherwise.

Farmers-in MY OPINION- are the most important and CAPABLE people in this world.  They deal with death on a daily basis, whether that be their animals or their crops, but they also deal with LIFE.  That farmer that helped deliver that little calf, which in turn dies the next night for unknown causes, will help bring another ten little calves into the world the very next day.  You think he/she doesn't think about that one that lost the fight?  You are so wrong if you do.  That farmer who has to carry around the biggest conciencse of all other professions/lifestyles, who lost his entire crop to a late frost in the spring, or the random hail storm that blew through, will turn around and TRY to plant another, faster growing crop before the growing season is over, so that he can TRY to pay his bills and feed his family.  To feed YOU, the CONSUMER.  That farmer, who deals with so many uncontrollable factors in his/her line of work (Mother Nature, ignorant people, the price of oil/fertilizer/vaccinations,etc) will cry at night and get up the next day and will just keep going.  Because that's what farmers do- they are strong.  They have to be.  They are the BACKBONE of our province, our country, our WORLD.  And guess what, I'm SO PROUD to be a born & raised FARMER.  I'm SO PROUD of my ancestors, my parents, my in-laws,  MY FARMER.  They/we work hard to make a life for ourselves.  My kids will never, EVER confuse #farmlife with #animal abuse because that's just a ridiculous idea.  I was raised to know better than that and I refuse to associate or burden myself with anyone who follows what the above-mentioned TROLL believes.

C

ps.  You can follow me on Twitter @CarrieHounjet for cute harvest, farm life pictures. :)