Canada

Twyla

Each year, the second Monday of October, we celebrate Thanksgiving Day. A counterpart celebration to a Thursday in late November for our neighours South of the 49th parallel. A time for gratitude and family, and to switch to colder weather clothing. Our seasons are more pronounced here in the prairie provinces. Especially Summer and Winter. Some years it feels as though we glaze past Spring and Fall in far too big a hurry. Our days are already noticeably shorter! Beautiful autumnal foliage abounds, brought on by dropping temperatures and a few brief dalliances with snow. Warm toned leaves holding on for dear life as brisk winds sweep over our landscapes.

Yes, it’s sweater season. Add a toque. A scarf. Maybe even wool socks. Boots.

But we don’t mind, us hearty Canucks are happy for anything above -40°C! Our thankfulness and appreciation worn on our shirtsleeves this time of year, as we celebrated our Thanksgiving this last weekend.

This is a time for family, reflection, appreciation and great food.

When we gather for a family meal, it is a feast! Generations of stuffing and gravy making skills have culminated in our kin. We produce fantastic fares for the holidays. Tips and tricks passed on through the lineage, create pleasing experiences for the eye, palate and stomach. While we tend to stick to the tried and true, every once in a while a new recipe joins the fold.

I could go on and on about my pride in family and family gatherings. I love them so dearly. But today I’m stuck on one aspect of the get-together: dessert!

Talk about blessings, I was born into a long line of very gifted women in the kitchen.

Pies are the Thanksgiving dessert of choice in our clan. All sorts of fruit pies, made from scratch, with love. My earliest pie memories; Grandma Nellie made the best apple pies. For many years, Mom took on the endeavour. She claims that she never cared for making pies. But obviously enough to make them great. Her lemon meringue pie cannot be beat!

I believe I was about 12 years old when I learned to bake pies. I quickly garnered it’s much more involved than muffins, breads or cakes; there is an art to it. And for some reason, just like my Mom, to this day, I’ve never baked just one. If I’m committing to bake a pie, a minimum of 6 are created. I laugh to myself, while skimming a magazine or Pinterest, when I encounter a recipe for a single piecrust, I immediately dismiss it. If the first ingredient listed doesn’t ask for 4 or more cups of flour, this recipe is not for me. It simply seems disrespectful to the craft!

I’ve made my fair share of pies over the years.

For family meals, special events, and just because. I take great joy in the process and the end products. As a young girl, Brenna took to these pastries!  A natural, if not a little messy, in the kitchen. After a few years of refining her skills, I think she was  about 14 when she made them the first time for the family Thanksgiving meal. They were amazing! Pies quickly became her specialty. She soon tweaked and reinvented and expanded her repertoire. We gladly sampled her fares.

This year, while Brenna remains clear across the country. Her cousin Kenny stepped up to the task!  True to teenager form, she even experimented with a new found piecrust recipe! Dangerous territory.  The results were tantalizing. Sitting there that evening, slicing through the flaky layers on my way through a gorgeous slice of peach pie. I knew exactly what I was most thankful for. Each beautiful bakers’ rendition of a classic recipe. Pie. Good old fashioned, home made pie, created and eaten with love. Pie. Tradition.

 

 

 

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locks on somerset bridge
Jim

Times are changing here on the farm.

Not all that long ago we never owned a lock,  nothing was ever protected that way. We just didn’t feel the need. Vehicle keys were left in the ignitions, and doors were always free to be opened by whomever came to visit. Shop doors and fuel storage were never secured. Nothing was battened down and no one ever gave it a second thought. I wish I could say all that is still the way it is today. But even in Mayberry things changed. And so they have in our small neck of the woods as well.

Influenced by the outside world, the time has come for us to install a home alarm system.

The system itself arrived in one small box in the mail, and with the help of the on-call security support, Twyla and I had the system up and running in a single afternoon. As a final step of the installation process, I screwed the notification of the alarm system to the gate post so all guests could easily see what we had installed. That was several weeks back.

We are pleased with the alarm system we chose. It has worked very well during our tests, both planned and not. Most tests tend to fall into the unplanned category.  Take for example an unexpected visit one day from Margret, our neighbour to the west.

Of course, we needed to test the alarm to make sure all was in working order.

For no particular reason, one morning before I walked out to the barn to work, I activated the alarm for the house. I didn’t lock the door. The barn is 50 yards due west of the house, straight out the front door.

While working in the barn the dogs let out a few barks. It’s funny how you come to understand the different tones your dog uses when it barks. This tone was very familiar. It simply said “Hey, it’s just our neighbours coming up the driveway, no worries”. Recognizing this bark I didn’t leave the barn but I did look through the doors up at the house for confirmation.

When I glanced up, I saw Margret pulling up the driveway.

With her truck shifted to park and engine shut off, Margret and her two young daughters climbed out of the truck. At this point in my morning I had long forgotten about the alarm that was set earlier in the day. I half worked, and half watched as they walked from the truck to the front door. It wasn’t until Margret opened the front door and the alarm system squawked to her it was active that I remembered. Oh Crap! Margret had opened our door countless times, but never to this unwelcome announcement. This was a new sound for her and it sparked a reaction I hadn’t expected. Startled, she spun on her heels and ran out the front door as quickly as she could ‘uching’ her girls as she retreated, “Run! Run! GO!”, she ordered!

Laughing I dropped what I was doing and started to trot to the house. Running is not easy to do when you’re belly laughing.

Unfortunately when you trigger the alarm you have a short 45 seconds to enter the code and shut it down.

If you fail, a live operator comes on to let you know that “The authorities have been dispatched.” Margret didn’t know the code to get them to ‘stand down’. That would be foolish. And as slow as I was, I failed to make it in time.

I reached the door as the operator asked Margret to “Identify herself”. The operator had no way of knowing Margret had high-tailed it back to her truck and was safe inside with her two accomplices.  Once in the house and speaking with the operator, I fished around until I had our security code in my fist. I verbally relayed the code to the operator and the alarm system buzzers fell silent. With tension dialed down, things began to return to normal.

Despite the unpleasant surprise, Margret was impressed with our security system.

So much so, that when she returned home she convinced Seamus they ought to install one as well. The system they chose was slightly different from ours. They did not do a self-install as we had.  Instead an alarm ‘specialist’ arrived with all the necessary equipment to set it up for them. The installation went flawlessly, for the most part. During the final step of the install the specialist was on his cell phone asking for one last piece of information to finish the job.

“All set” he declared, “I just need the werbol password.”

“I’m sorry”, came back the operator, “I am hearing most of what you’re asking, I just can’t make out that last part.”

“The password” the installer repeated, “I need the werbol password.”

“Again”, returned the operator, “I’m not quite making out that last little bit, can you repeat?”

This exchange went back and forth a number of times on speaker phone. The installer was becoming increasingly frustrated with each new try. As a last-ditch attempt to get the information he needed, he handed his phone to Margret.

Shocked at being thrust the phone, Margret exchanged quizzical glances with Seamus.  He shrugged his shoulders. She shrugged. Then, moving the phone a little closer she simply stated, “You know, the WERBOL password.”

Awkward silence followed, a few surprised glances were tossed back and forth, perhaps a little laughter by the operator?  It was hard to tell.

“Verbal” stepped in Seamus, “They need the VERBAL password”.

Now, in Margret’s defense, there are a lot of acronyms and odd sounding nomenclature in her work and IT in general.

Security system jargon would definitely fall within that realm. However, another thing to consider, is that this installer had a very thick accent, and spoke English as a second language. So when Margret had heard “werbol”, most everyone else in earshot heard “verbal”.  As you can imagine this mispronunciation of the word, which matched his mispronunciation perfectly, surprised him and everyone else.

With his phone returned and the “werbol” password now entered, and the security system installation was complete.  It wasn’t long and all the necessary paperwork was sufficiently shuffled. Soon the installer was all packed and on his way down the road to his next ‘venue’.

Back at Margret’s? Oh yes, a bit of laughter ensued, for sure.

And as I mentioned, “The times they are a changin’.”

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sunrise on the farm
Jim

I love that first mug of coffee in the morning.

Strong, steaming hot coffee sure hits the spot at daybreak. After rolling out of bed, it is easily the first thing on my ‘to-do’ list. Let’s get that coffee percolating. It seems like I can’t even seem to get my eyes to open properly until I hear the sound of the coffee pot begin to gurgle to life. And the smell, I love that smell first thing in the morning! Brewed coffee. My go-to coffee is Highlander Grogg. If you haven’t tried it, I highly recommend it. I buy mine from a great roasting house in Edmonton. One of my favourite ways to prepare it is to grind two scoops of Grogg beans with a scoop of Starbucks Pike Place Roast.  This combo has a great aroma, and an even better taste!

Not until I’m sitting at the kitchen table with my fingers locked around my warm, inviting mug does the morning begin to come into focus for me. Sitting at the table and looking through the door windows to my left, I see the sun struggling through the trees. It’s trying to steam the dew from the backyard grass as it pokes through the foliage.

Sip.

Straight ahead, to the south, it’s punched through that same treeline and is rolling over the pasture, mist rising. No cows or horses in sight. Hmmm, they must be further south by the dugout. Yup, so nice.

I think it’s going to be one of those perfect, quiet, sunny Saturday mornings.

Sip.

To my right I can see the barn through the living room windows. It always looks so nice to see the wooden barn walls slowly come to life as the sun begins to light up the faded and flaked brown and white paint. Glancing at the doors I notice something isn’t quite right. Damn, a pig has gotten out and is standing in the open barn doors.

Sip. Make that two pigs. Double Damn. Both pigs stop, one on each side of the doorway, to give their sides a good rub up and down on the door frames.  It always feels so nice to get rid of all those early morning itches, doesn’t it? Well, I guess I better go gather up those two after my coffee.

Sip.

Pigs, ha, geez.  Hey, wait a second.  We don’t have pigs!

Forcing a couple hard blinks I start to wake a little faster than I would have liked. With mug in hand I walk to the living room window to have a closer look, and I stand staring through the glass. Yup, those are for-sure pigs, and I see they’ve wandered a little closer to the house now.  Grabbing my jacket and cell phone and still holding my mug I head outside for a little closer inspection.  Hearing the door open and shut brings our two dogs, Keifer and Kirby, to life.  They have just now decided it’s time to rise and shine.  The minute Kirby steps from the doghouse she notices the newcomers.  The hair on her back immediately stands to attention while she gives the most earnest ‘Hey! You! Get the hell out of here!’ bark she can muster. Her threat is ignored.

Old Keifer the Hound is a lover, not a fighter. 

He takes the opposite approach. Seeing the pigs spurs his ‘come be my neighbour’ curiosity. I’m somewhere in between these two.  I don’t want them hanged at the gallows like Kirby, but I’m also not sure I want to be their best bud like Keifer. As I take a few steps toward them I give a big shout out. “Soooo-ey! Sooooo-ey! Here pig pig pig!”  They look up. Until that point I don’t even think they noticed we were watching. Upon hearing my call, they too become curious and begin to take a few steps toward us. Friendly I see.

Oddly, Keifer has become Sherlock Holmes.  Ever “Keifer the chicken”, has for some reason this morning become “Keifer the sleuth”. Off he goes and within seconds he has decided he’s either a pig or they are odd mannered dogs. He sniffs one and then the other and then the first one again. And then, for some reason he licks it!  “Keifer! That’s gross! You don’t know where that’s been! Come here boy!” Now I’m being ignored as he continues his investigation. Yup, I think he’s decided, he’s a pig.

Kirby can hardly contain her disdain. She’s always a bit excitable but she knows instinctively these are strangers, be they pig, be they dog, they do not belong here!  Woof, woof, WOOF!!

Time to make some phone calls.

“Hey Johnny, good morning”

“Yeah, it’s early, sorry about that.  Listen, Johnny, I’ve gotta ask you, do you keep pigs?”

“Two you say…Sows.  Oh ok.  Can you do me a favour and have a quick look-see in your pens?”

“Empty?  Uh hmm.  Yes, well I think I can help you out there.  I’m just now walking behind a couple of Sows in my barnyard.”

“Yup.”

“On your way?  Oh?  Ok, I’ll keep ‘em rounded up and wait for you here.”

And with that, the mystery of the pigs is solved.

Johnny is my new neighbour across the road to the north. He just moved in a few months back and it seems he’s come to own two pregnant sows.

Once Johnny arrives we start to walk the pigs down the driveway back to their home, and as a result,  Kirby is finally starting to relax a bit. She realizes these unwelcome strangers have begun their departure from her ‘territory’. Keifer, on the other hand, isn’t so sure they should go. As Johnny and I follow the pigs along, Keifer has joined the ‘herd’. Yup, he’s now become a pig.

“Johnny, once we get these pigs to your driveway, lets cull the last one out and try to keep him here.  I think Jess would be a bit disappointed if I let him move in with these two.”

Eventually I get Keifer to separate from his new friends, and join me and Kirby on our stroll up the driveway back to the house. With the pigs safely returned home, the dogs back to their normal behavior of lazing away the morning on the stoop, I can return to my table with a fresh mug in hand, sit and look out my south pasture window and relax a little. Yup, what a beautiful, typical, Saturday morning.  No cows or horses in sight. Hmmm, they must be further south by the dugout.

Sip.

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