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just a tiny picture post

I just love all this family truck cruisin' and choke cherry picking. I've decided not to leave here for a while, I just can't, at least until the New Year. We're fixing up the empty house next door for me to live in and there's already a drum set in the living room (we started a band!) and we're setting up a painting studio in there too. Jeff's going to teach me to throw pottery, and Tara's going to teach me to sew, and the winter is going to teach me to love wood stoves and long johns.
This is a short post because I need to run to the cafe to help out the lunch rush, but here are a few pictures. The first couple are of Jeff, Freya, Ruby and me on our way to pick berries at the other farm, and the last three are Freya, Iso, Ruby, Chuck and me relaxing in my trailor.

xo
hope you're all doing well

 


 


 


 

Wishart, Saskatchewan

I have only been here for four days but am overwhelmed with where to begin this post.Everything works differently here. Doors are seldom locked, seat belts in the bench seat of the trucks are forgotten. Many things are borrowed, found, and personally invented or constructed instead of needlessly bought.
The father of the family, Jeff, bought his pottery studio from the town for two dollars, for example. And the mother, Tara, views her cafe more as a volunteer service to provide the town with a cafe (the quiet downtown strip has only a handfulof operating stores) than a financially profitable investment of her time. I have never witnessed such a strong community. Here it seems to be the residents who truly run the town. Meetings are held frequently and actually bring about change!

 
I've been learning so much. I've been seeing the freedom that comes with living away from cities; of having nowhere nearby to buy too many things, and no policemen in town. It's amazing to see people successfully governed by community and shared values.But I've also been learning to harvest, make jellies, juices, syrups; and I'm learning to make salsa and extract honey from combs, and ride a tractor.
And I'm learning to skim the top of the bucket of raw milk to get thick cream for my coffee, and the kids are teaching me to run everywhere and use plants for lipstick and laugh to the sky, on my back, with kicking legs.

 
They are sweet, sweet kids.
Two days ago I found that Freya, the oldest, had put a vase of sunflowers on my table and taped one of her paintings to my wall. They borrow my scarves to tie around their necks or in their hair while they take me by the hand to show me this or that. And Freya will braid my hair, and Iso brings me pieces of fresh honeycomb oozing and dripping with honey to share. They bloom with imagination and patience and it's inspiring.
 
But there's really so much that I don't know how to cover it all, or what to pick to elaborate on. Do I write about riding on the back of the truck with the girls, our feet dangling to the dusty ground? Do I write about the living skies that make me look up like a country dweller on a visit to New York City? Do I write of the stories of the town's legendary characters that are spoken around the dinner table, or maybe the abandoned houses sold for fifty bucks that are still filled with books and ointments and wood stoves from the thirties.
All I can say is that everything here inspires me, yet calms me. I feel nuzzled into nostalgia and am appreciating my grassy knees and dirt dusty sweaters. I will write about things with more detail and focus in a little while I hope, if I ever become less overwhelmed by this intense beauty and community.
 

I hope you are all doing well.
If not I recommend a trip to these prairie fields!
xo
all my love
Laura