Skip to content

Saskatchewan

Pegged

Saskatoon to Winnipeg today, via Regina. We didn’t stop much: half an hour for coffee in Brandon was our limit, as we had a goal in mind.

Our day in Saskatoon yesterday was excellent for rest and visits. The weather was warm and the trees in leaf. Unfortunately, the trees often look like this in a prairie spring

and this would be why…

Brunch at the Broadway Cafe with Mari-Lou and Albert was for me a welcome ham and cheddar omelette with nice home fries and good coffee.

Supper at Prairie Ink, in McNally Robinson‘s splendid store, with Mary included her chicken salad with pineapple,

my cream of asparagus soup

some Jerry’s ice cream

and the amazing flowering tea. Followed by some brisk book shopping.

We left this morning in a Saskatoon drizzle

but the light was fabulous

the grain elevators occasional

and only a single teapot on the road.

We crossed into Manitoba which can be very flat indeed.

We were puzzled by a field of hay (in bales) that went on

and on and on and on. Anyone out there know what this was?

But finally, after 10 hours’ driving, we reached Winnipeg and had time to check into the hotel, clean ourselves up and scamper down to Dubrovnik, where the menu is pretty swish-standard Canadian, but the quality is exceedingly good, as is the service. We started with an amuse-bouche of seared tuna

and then had Mesclun Greens with goat cheese and fresh raspberries and blueberries,

Ruth opting for escargot with strips of fried portabella mushrooms

followed by poached sea bass with mango chutney

while I had free-range chicken (I hate to ask how free that might really be in a Manitoba winter) with duck mousse and dried cranberry stuffing,

surrounded by lots of interesting vegetables and hiding a nice peppery portion of scalloped potatoes. We couldn’t manage dessert, although it looked pretty good, and left without allowing our photographs to join the rogue’s gallery of celebrity patrons (Pierre Trudeau, Bill Clinton, Richard Gere, Zsa-Zsa Gabor and all that riff-raff).

Toonie time

Due to some unfortunate early morning coincidence, we both woke up a couple of hours before the alarm went off yesterday, and then decided to get an early start, so left Hinton on a gorgeous sunny morning at 7am,

and promptly blew our advantage by lingering over a couple of poached eggs and some salty spuds at a caff in Evansburg.

Richard, our navigator, contemplates the jam selection.

The rest of the day was just drive drive drive.

Saw some deer, but they all stayed off the road.

Decided not to go shopping.
And we got to Saskatoon about 11 and a half hours after we started.
On the way, of course we saw some grain elevators. Here is a mother feeding its young.
In olden times, the young were the same boxy shape as their folks, with the same woody complexion, and grew up sporting the names of their towns or sometimes interesting bible quotations on their sides.

Nowadays the young take after their parents who are rounder and harder and less interesting, and who have sought corporate sponsorship (much like today’s humans who prefer designer logos I suppose) so you can no longer see where you are from a friendly landmark.

The end of the prairie

Sunday’s treat was a trip to Mr Spudd’s Snack Shack, which was busy even before and even after we taxed the kitchen’s assembly skills with our multiple orders for veggie burgers, smokies, monster burgers and the like. A surprising number of locals were stopping in for ice cream treats, although the temperature hovered just around 10 degrees celsius. Well, prairie folk: hardy or what?

But all too soon it was bye-bye blackbird

and little bird-house on the prairie

and prairie dog

and tick-proof walks

which a number of us decided to have, against all sanity, on the last morning whose weather was too sweet to leave outside. Off we went through the long and short grasses…

And subsequently, consequently and unwillingly, a number of us carried eight-legged souvenirs back with us on planes and buses and body parts. So I confess I’m quite pleased to be out of ticksville once more, although it is true they are also present here on Vancouver Island. Just not as numerous or active as in this particular season in the lovely Qu’Appelle Valley.

Some talk about reading, and an evening walk in the valley

Some interesting discussion yesterday about the different ways of reading: for academic purpose vs for writing. Erin and John talked about their ways of preparing during the writing of a poetry project, reading widely and employing techniques of serendipity, or delving and re-delving into more challenging works in order to find directions of thought from them.

Between our excellent meals we have been trying to walk off a pirogy here, a cookie there. One popular destination is Prairie Cherries, where the proprietors sell organic cherry products from their orchard. The variety they grow is a cross between the sturdy prairie classic, the Mongolian Cherry, which is short and hardy but a bit on the tart side; and the pie cherry for sweetness, a variety developed by the University of Saskatchewan.

On our after-dinner tick-catching stroll, we saw another prairie fruit in bloom everywhere: Saskatoon blossoms everywhere.

We met a Red Wing Blackbird.

And a wee Warbler.

A beaver dam…

…and a beaver.

A white horse….

…a black horse.

A deer on a hillside.

And lots of what Gary described as prairie wool. It’s like walking on a down quilt. Would’ve lain down to look at the stars but for the ticks.

Still crawling

This feels like about my fourth springtime this year; where I am today, the Qu’Appelle Valley is starting to green.


Last night being chef’s night off, we went to Regina, to the Mediterranean Bistro where the 4-cheese tortellini looked somewhat better than it tasted (seriously overwhelmed by smoked salmon and dill, and using pretty ordinary tortellini; the asparagus was the best thing in it..)

I couldn’t see much to choose from if you have issues about industrial food: a lot of chicken on the menu with nothing to defends its origins. Maybe next time I’ll try the bouillabaisse, which had a pretty nice fennel broth to commend it… setting aside for one evening my many questions about the origins of the prawns.

This morning I picked up a couple of books of poetry from the Sage Hill library, and found a (now deceased) female American Dog Tick (Dermacentor variabilis)

hanging onto a corner of Worn Thresholds, by Julie Berry.

Bugged

Tuesday it was bees: we had a most thrilling hive inspection as our last field trip.

We got to see some varroa mites, how to check for the tell-tale odour of foulbrood,

what a hive about to swarm looks like, how you graft a queen cell, how you mark a queen,

how you split a hive, and how you recapture a swarm that hasn’t left yet. It was not the best time of day (evening) or the best weather (a bit damp) but the bees bore it as best they could, and brave Larry showed us how an experienced bee-man can handle even cranky bees without nets or gloves…

..on account of he had very kindly lent me his jacket and veil. And has spent his entire life around bees. I feel hardly qualified to have my own hives just yet, but will spend a little more time hanging out with bee-folk and see how I feel next year.

Then, on to Saskatchewan where I’m participating in the Sage Hill spring poetry colloquium at St Michael’s Retreat Centre in the Qu’Appelle Valley,

where the ticks are active if not biting (phew). They’ve been crawling over us night and day, even those of us who haven’t gone outside let alone into long grass. This evening I found one hiding on my person. Here she is practicing her backstroke in a drop of water, before sinking into the last hot bath of her life.

Our colloquium leader Erin has researched the subject thoroughly, and apparently it’s unwise to try to crush them (even if you can) in case they’re carrying a disease which you can then spread on yourself by accident. So I think scalding is quick and merciful.

Anyway, there are eight of us here from all across Canada, all with manuscripts in progress. We’ve been having a good time doing poetry exercises and plunging into some hard editorial graft. Between meals, walks (in the short grass, thanks) and strolls into town. Where there is surprising variety in fire hydrant, I happened to notice.