Tag Archives: seasons

Miscellanea

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Miscellanea from the Lost Quarter and beyond.

Driving

They spent their days driving, countless hours. If you added them up, you would total another lifetime. It was the nature of living in those parts where it was two hours to anywhere and distance was always calculated in time.  

Summers they would head to the nearest movie theatre, an hour and a half away in a town a province over, where they showed the big movies at the same time they opened in the cities. They’d head out after dinner and be home when it was just starting to get dark.  

Winters they’d drive unless the weather got really ugly, though it was hard to tell what you’d find once you got started. How many times did they run in and out of blizzards as they headed north or west? The snow dancing in the headlights, almost blotting out the darkness behind. A blanket of undisturbed snow covering the road and the surrounding fields so completely it was hard to tell where the road ended and the ditch began. They felt like explorers, breaking new ground and setting the trail for those that would follow. 

Autumn and spring meant the deer and antelope were moving and dawn and dusk were dangerous. They had to be on alert, scanning the fields and ditches. Gophers, porcupines, skunk and badger all found their way under the wheels.   

They had different vehicles, fit for the purpose. There was the car, and later the jeep, for trips to town or the city. The old half ton fitted with a slip tank was the farm truck they used to take them to the fields or to check the cows. Then there was the one tonne they used for pulling trailers and longer trips where they’d be spending time on backroads.  

They never thought about all the time they spent in vehicles. It wasn’t as though there was any choice. They did what they had to do. Long drives they’d pack a lunch and stop somewhere scenic. A campground in a river valley. Somewhere with an outhouse. At every opportunity they’d take the unfamiliar road, just to see if it was a nicer drive. Something new to see, if nothing else. They saw more of the country than most. 

There was nothing like coming home as darkness settled. The twists and turns of the road so familiar the truck could probably drive itself. Kilometres and kilometres of darkness relieved only by the sparks of light from farmyards, providing their assurance that there were people out there in this vast place. The intersection would come into view, familiar enough they didn’t need a sign to tell them, and they would turn north and wait until they came to a rise where the lights of town filled up the horizon. They’d know then they were close to home and would continue into the darkness that lay beyond. 

Field Notes

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Being a record of certain phenomena found in the environs of the Lost Quarter.

Summer Days and Summer Nights Are Gone

With the latest troubles down south an intermittent straggle of newcomers had begun to arrive in town. Most passed through on their way to other places. A few decided to stay longer, attracted by the cheapness of the rent, but when they struggled to find regular work they would move on, rarely lasting more than a month or two. The latest arrivals, a couple, had taken up residence in the Dunning place on the outskirts of town at the beginning of June. Most of the newcomers ended up there. It was a dilapidated eyesore that everyone agreed should have been torn down years ago. Instead Marvin had halfheartedly tried renting it for years without investing any in improvements and he treated these southern exiles as an unexpected windfall. 

The couple mostly kept to themselves and the locals didn’t press them. Their politeness, for which they were famed, was an armour to hold strangers at a careful distance. They were nice, kind even, helpful when asked, but they did not intrude into the couples’ lives and seemed to demand the same. Don’t tell us of your struggles and your hurts, we have our own and you are the cause. That was never said, but the couple felt the weight of it all the same in the way they were accepted but never quite welcomed anywhere they went. 

Summer went by with them still in the Dunning place. They kept the yard well, fixing the fence and planting a garden, enjoying its fruits. The man took a job in the grocery store, part-time, and they both had hours at the greenhouse. The woman was a teacher it was said, but obviously not accredited for these parts. The man’s former career was unknown, but it was obvious he hadn’t done farm work or anything like that, so no one was willing to trust him with their equipment. He was a good worker, Don said, and he wished he had more hours for him. 

Night began arriving earlier and earlier, a chill coming with it. Morning frost would be white on the lawn when they rose. The couple was still there, much to everyone’s surprise. They remarked on the abruptness of the change – the week prior had been blanketed with summer warmth – and were met with shrugs that said that time was over now.  Well, they knew about that, all too well. Everyone worried about how they would handle the winter if they were staying on. A few solicitous folks told them they should see about buying a good winter coat before the weather really turned. The couple assured them they had brought adequate winter clothes with them and the locals assured them they were wrong.   

Mornings the couple would walk together north down the gravel road that led from their house to the new elevators, those towering concrete structures, the tallest buildings for a hundred kilometres or more. During the summer they had marvelled at the crops in fields on either side of the road, at the brightness of the day even so early in the morning. Now their breath clouded the air and they went out later, waiting for the sun to rise. There was only stubble in the fields now, harvest finished. Overhead geese flew in formation, heading south. They would stand and watch them until they disappeared in the sky and then turn their backs to keep going on. 

Miscellanea

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Miscellanea from the Lost Quarter and beyond.

Autumn Nights

He picked her up in town while the dusk was still creeping through the air. They left the streets behind and soon were passing yellow fields. In the distance a few combines made steady progress, stalked by trucks waiting to be filled. To the west the hills loomed, great shadows on the horizon, the sun hidden behind them, though its light remained for now. He turned off the road onto a narrow laneway, ignoring the private property sign. The trail descended into a valley ending at an irrigation canal. Water flowed through it along the valley, low and dark against the concrete banks, unheard over the sound of the wind slipping through the grass and trees. The valley was dotted with them in the low points where water gathered in spring, golden sentinels watching them as they walked along the levee. 

 They had not spoken aside from their first greeting when she had climbed inside the truck. Now they did as they made their aimless way along the bank, pausing when she saw some fallen leaves gathered beneath a tree. She never missed a chance to hear the sound of them crackling beneath her footsteps. Small pleasures. They spoke of inconsequential things. Days that had passed, days still to come. The things left unsaid were what mattered. Being there together, alone, as the day became night. They turned back once the canal began to climb out of the valley. Hand in hand they went to the truck as the moon rose in the east.