September Solitude

First Published September 23, 2015

Welcome Autumn! This is the time of year I feel a certain restlessness, a craving only a drive in the Saskatchewan countryside can satisfy. Earlier this month I had an opportunity to wander the back roads and trails of my growing-up years, all alone for an entire day.

A crisp breeze stirred the roadside grass. The sun was warm in a deep blue sky that spread for miles until it met the earth in a distinct line. I stood on a rise in the road and saw again the narrow dirt road stretching north and south. Pastureland, marked by groves of poplar on the verge of submitting their summer green to autumn gold, lay on either side of me. Stands of willow and cattails thrived in a low spot where a fence line marked a boundary. A hollow remained in the road where a spring rain could cause a vehicle to bog down in mud.

I heard silence there. After a time, I become aware of sparrows chirping and busily going about their errands in the branches of the roadside aspens. Their quick movements caused the first leaves to break free and float to the ground. I watched a small flock of wild geese assemble to the east and conduct wedges of practice runs in preparation for their journey south.

I paused at the sandy lane to the old farmyard where only two wheel tracks remained to a house that had many years ago replaced the farmhouse. Distances seemed to have shrunk. Had the workshop always been so close to the garden? And the barn seemed nearer to the house. Although I knew it’s replacement had been built closer to the barn, I recall my father being able to sing an entire verse of the German “I Know a Stream”, beginning at the kitchen door and ending when he entered the barn.

As I continued along the road, I no longer saw evidence of woods trails I so eagerly walked. There were, however, lanes leading to several new residences on the main road. Do they seek a slower pace of life here? Do I envy their choice?

I passed a former school yard (now unrecognizable as such) at what was known as “The mailbox corner”; it didn’t disappoint. As though decades hadn’t passed since mail had been delivered there, the ditch nearby remained full of water. I smiled as the words “a lot has changed, yet not a lot has changed” came to mind.

The trail off the Grid was precarious in places that had water on both sides. At the end stood the century-old wooden church, still a large and commanding presence rising from the flatness of the surrounding prairie.

It was a time of solitude, of walking slowly down each row of graves in the large cemetery, of working the lichens from the headstones of my ancestors and confirming a name or determining a date, of sitting on the grass at the foot of their resting place and remembering them. And all around me was blessed silence. Only the sun and the sky and the breeze knew me.

I spent a wonderful day with each of my sisters; we drove through the city finding the addresses, which came to our minds so easily, that held our memories. We walked several kilometers along the trail on the bank of the serene South Saskatchewan River. Another day we drove through the countryside where former towns had, seemingly overnight, become cities.

What precious days I enjoyed! Thank you to my husband and family for helping me achieve this meaningful time alone, as well as sharing a few days together with me.