I’m on my way home. My home is my childhood farm where I haven’t actually lived for over 10 years. I love going home and turning off the highway onto the gravel road. Watching the yellow and green canola fields against the never-ending blue sky takes me back to the many years I rode this same road as a child. Making the turn into the yard, I anticipate the old farm dog perk up and amble toward the road to see who is coming down the driveway. No one enters the yard unnoticed or without a warm greeting from him. Smelling the fresh-cut grass catches my attention as the familiar dip in the road welcomes me home. As I leave my vehicle, I recognize the familiar sound of trucks in the distance, travelling down the dusty, washboard gravel roads.
This trip home marks 100 years that this farm has been in my family and as such, a farm celebration has been planned. Attending the celebration will be many neighbours who are full of support and recognition of what it means to have such rich heritage in a place like this. They know what it’s like to be Canadian and build a life on the prairies.
In preparation of the celebration, I was tasked with researching and writing up the details of how this farm came to be, so I sat outside on the deck, educating myself as I poured over history books and newspaper articles. Looking up at the massive, sturdy oak tree as the sun peeked through its leaves, I wondered how long it has stood there in that spot and who planted it. I thought of all the memories I had here in my 29 years, but I was beginning to learn about the many years before me.
I read that 100 years ago my great-grandfather walked onto this barren, prairie flatland. There was no water supply, no buildings and no machinery to work the fields. I tracked his extensive journey on a ship from Norway to North America. I learned how he caught a ride on a dusty, dirty train across Canada. He walked the final 30 miles to reach NE 18-2-12-W2M only to find there was no water supply, just a creek another 5 miles down the road. The creek was full of bugs. There were no buildings but eventually he and my great-grandmother built a sod hut to live in. This sod hut later blew apart in the prairie winds. They built another, but that hut was destroyed in a grass fire. They persevered and built yet another.
I was astounded to learn such things about my family and the struggles they faced. Discovering these truths made me feel thankful that I had a connection with such strong and amazing people. I also felt grateful that I can turn on a tap that gushes with fresh water and have a roof over my head that isn’t going to fall to pieces with a strong wind. I know I have these luxuries because 100 years ago a man heard about a new land half way around the world; a land that came with the hope that hard work would present opportunities to make a home. It was not an easy journey, but it was worth it. As I unearthed more and more about how my great-grandfather came to Canada, I realized he saw the potential in this place, and in turn made that original homestead a home.
Debbie's Educational Journey 
A Canadian Farm’s heritage is very interesting and something to be proud of! Growing up on a farm myself I could see the exact picture you were painting of the gravel road, canola fields, the driveway, the “familiar dip in the road”, and the trucks driving on the washboard. It is so comforting to get off the highway and hit the gravel road home. I also associate these sights, feelings, and sounds with home! The imagery that you presented when you said “smelling the fresh-cut grass catches my attention” resonates with me in other smells like the smell of fresh cut wheat, or the smell of the dusty barn. The powerful story you told about your great-grandparents is so inspiring and something to be so thankful for. I felt that in researching you came to a better understanding of your history, but also a deeper level of appreciation for your family and heritage. Is there still an original house or any original buildings on the land? Do you have letters or diaries telling the stories of your Great Grandparents? Or have these stories just been passed down from generation to generation? I also love the fact that you put the land location in your story! For a fellow farm kid, it places a picture in my mind of a section of land that was chosen to start a new life in Canada. To many, a land location is just a bunch of random bunch of letters and numbers, but it is the location of the land that our families first called their own. Thank you for sharing a small part of who you are and sharing what home is to you!
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Thank you for your comment. I like that you added “the smell of an dusty barn and fresh cut wheat” as I haven’t had those memories for quite some time. The original house is no longer there. It was turned into my dad’s “shop” until he tore it down and built a Quonset when I was just a kid. The barn was also torn down and replaced with newer buildings. Thanks for understanding the land location; I think those are cool too. All I had to use for reference was the RM history books and newspaper articles. I also spoke with close friends and neighbours who told me some stories about them. Thanks again for sharing and giving your insight as a fellow farm “kid”.
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You did a great job describing some images of what is home to you, but more would be better. Maybe start by describing something by how it feels, smells, and sounds like. You described many visual aspects in your post and only a couple scent and feeling. In some cases, I could see what you were describing but it felt more like I was watching a movie than standing there with you. On the other hand though I did feel many of the situations you described visually, but maybe only because I have experienced them in my own life. Was your artifact the farm as a whole? From reading your self-story I can see that being Canadian is being proud of your heritage and where you came from and being thankful for the people who worked hard so you can be where you are today.
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