Imperial relations

Trip Start Jun 06, 2004

Trip End Jun 30, 2004

Loading Map

Map your own trip!

Map Options

Show trip route

Hide lines

Flag of Canada Imperial, Saskatchewan, Canada
Thursday, June 10, 2004

We sleep in until 10:30! It is very kind of Henry's aunt to let us slumber, particularly as she has already forthrightly expressed her(low)opinion of unmarried people sharing a bed. After a breakfast spent catching up on family news, we head off on an unladen Gzowski to explore the farmland around Imperial. Henry's German grandfather acquired several sections,and some of it is still farmed by relatives. Henry has visited often and spent a summer here working hard for 25 cents an hour. But we still spend much of the day trying one gravel road after the other, with Henry muttering, "I'm pretty sure it's just down here. This MUST be the way..." And I thought this was supposed to be our day of rest! We eventually find the tiny travel trailer he lived in, and his grandparent's abandoned homestead, where the blacksmith shop is still full of wonders and the old house full of swallows. Henry tears off a short board to make into a sign for the back of the bike.

The relatives we do find are too busy with chores to visit, with the exception of old Agnes

$1000 worth--and 6 more are in the truck

. She is a relative by marriage but certainly knows all the family dirt, and passes it on with gusto. We also find Henry's father's grave, with a space ready beside it for Henry's mother, who is still going strong at 97. A grave in the vast prairie seems like a terribly bleak thing to me. I shudder to think of the winds and snow ripping unhindered across it, as if that could matter to the body below.

Speaking of bodies, mine is feeling pretty empty stomach-wise. It is now after 2:30. We aren't due at cousin Cyril's for dinner until 6, but we're certainly too late to impose on Aunt Mary for lunch. On the other hand, to eat elsewhere will offend her. We sneak back into town for a surreptitious burger. But you just can't get away in a place this size: Aunt Mary spots us on the road, and cousins Cyril and Holly catch us red-toothed in the cafe. To make matters worse, Cyril wants to change our dinner date to 4:30. It is already 4:00, so we lug our full tummies to the pharmacy to get a bottle of wine. I find a respectable Iniskillin riesling lurking amongst shelves of Baby Duck and fake spumanti and grab it. We are also delighted to score an Imperial, SK windshield sticker.

Out on the farm, Cyril's daughter shows off kittens, puppies and horses. Cyril shows off the combination fertilizer/pesticide he uses on his crop

Grandfather's blacksmith shop

. "How much do you think this costs?" he asks, holding up a 4 litre jug. "One thousand dollars!" His charming wife Carol meets us briefly outside their enormous new house--she has to drive their son to baseball. A mental picture of starving farmers fades fast as we get the grand tour. Solid oak wainscotting and trim gleam expensively everywhere. We manage to stuff down a polite amount of spaghetti, and I drink an impolite amount of the wine, since Henry doesn't drink and Cyril only has one glass. Cyril also enlightens us about the small, bright blue domes we have seen in several fields. They are used for raising bees, which are sold for pollination.

Back in Imperial, we spend the evening in maintenance: journal writing, laundry, calling home and (most importantly) re-attaching the leads for our electric vests. My throat is still very bad, and I am quite worried about it. What if I get worse? I take another Benadryl and read old Ellery Queen pulps in bed until I conk out.