It's Saturday morning. I am on 10 o'clock heifer check. I pull on long johns, extra layers, flannel shirt, silk scarf. An old felt hat, a gift from my sister many years ago. Grab the blanket from the stair rail in the porch: "It looks like rain," the Good Rancher had said as he went to bring in his horses.
I drive out, through the horse pasture, through the little gate into what he calls the Storm Field. It's a haven for calvy heifers and pet cows on days of inclement weather, such as this one.
It's mizzling and extremely windy. Even the crocuses are shuttered against the onslaught.
I circle the perimeter slowly, trying not to disturb these heavily pregnant mums.
Each is settled in her chosen spot.
They are all quiet.
At rest.
Waiting.
Tomorrow's the official day that new life will start to be seen, the GR says. It's the official heifer calving launch.
But it's the day before. All is quiet in this garden. All are at rest.
I back the side-by-side into an unobtrusive spot and let my mind drift back some 2,000 years ago to that "day before" where there was little to no activity on the streets of Jerusalem in honour of the Sabbath.
Rest day.
Waiting.
Tomorrow - little do they know - will be different from any other day anyone has ever known. A massive stone will be rolled from a brand new tomb. The broken body, placed in it so tenderly by friends just days before, will not be found in the cave.
Angels will attest.
The ladies will come. Peter and John will come. Friends walking to Emmaus in bewilderment and sorrow will speak to and break bread with Him.
They had been together for over 60 years when he said his final goodbye to her. Together they had created a busy, productive, satisfying life. They finished stronger than they began, loving each other to the end.
And then she carried on. She moved to town, as he had wanted; but she kept the farmhouse ready and welcome for the many family members and friends who come to see her. She arranged for an annual floor curling bonspiel in his honour, full of laughter, reminiscing, family members and, oh yes, some sizzling curling.
"I have the best of both worlds!" she exclaimed to me just today. Her silver linings dwarf her clouds, thanks to her courage and indomitable spirit.
We were on our way to Stettler, to the County office. I had received a phone call a couple of weeks ago saying that two of my photos had made it into the shortlist round for the 2025 county calendar. I was allowed to bring a guest to the unveiling of the calendar and the luncheon following.
I chose Eleanor as my date.
Council was still in session when we arrived so we waited in the room where we would eat lunch. King Charles hangs on the wall now - his 75th birthday is tomorrow.
Today he had nothing on Eleanor.
We were all called into the council meeting room and they announced the Grand Prize winner: Delaine Stewart, with a truly magnificent picture of combines perfectly situated under a double rainbow holding back the looming, thunderous sky.
This picture actually took my breath. Get a copy of the Stettler County No. 6 calendar and turn to September to see for yourself.
Someone else was announced next; but I was watching the screen that was supposed to be showing the picture being discussed. However, the order had gotten a little confused and I saw something else that also took my breath.
I saw Eleanor. And Ken. And my picture, which I called "End of the Summer."
I remember the day I took that picture. We had gone for a walk in the garden and they had shown me their shed with all the onions carefully laid out to dry. Then they asked me if I liked beets. Upon "Yes indeed!" Ken went and got a white plastic bag and a spade. I got out my phone and took what has become one of my favourite captures.
End of the Summer
I heard lovely Michelle, the Legislative Assistant who spearheads the Calendar contest each year, call my name and say I had two pictures in the calendar. She also said that I had brought the subject of one of the pictures as my guest today, and would Eleanor please come up too.
Eleanor was met by County Reeve Larry Clarke who presented her with a framed copy of her picture and told her that hers was June's picture. She replied, "I never once thought that I would become a calendar girl, and look at me - 88 years old!"
She brought down the house.
Eleanor and I were honoured to be joined for lunch by our own Councilor, Les Stulberg. After a delicious roast beef feast I asked if I could take their picture:
We left shortly thereafter, as another meeting was due to start at 1 pm. Our hostess said that Eleanor should take calendars as stocking stuffers for her family and friends, so sorry, gang, you know one of your presents!
"End of the Summer," she mused, almost to herself. "In more ways than one..." Then she straightened her shoulders and gave me one of her beautiful smiles.
I had a couple of errands to run and then we pointed the truck back toward home.
But first we called the Good Rancher. "Did you ever think you would have a neighbour who was a Calendar Girl?!" Eleanor asked him.
"I don't need a calendar to know you're a beautiful girl!" he retorted immediately.
So there you have it. My neighbour and beloved friend is Miss June.
"I will remember this day for a long time," she said as we hugged goodbye.
This afternoon my instinct was to veer east into Eagles Field, as we now call it.
The men have seen the eagles circling the silage pit and the corn field. I have seen one parent, last Friday, near our neighbour Randy's yard. I have gone to the grove of trees holding the nest regularly, and there was never anyone there except for last Monday: Little Bird was sitting there, motionless, in the heat of the afternoon, her back to the nest that cradled her not that long ago.
Today as I pulled the truck close to the fence that divided Eagles Field from the one I can drive a truck in, I saw an almost unrecognisable lump high up in the tree adjacent to the nest. It seemed to be roiling in pain.
After long minutes it straightened itself out: Little Bird, feathers looking ruffled and bedraggled.
Little Bird, clearly in distress, crying.
This was the first time I have heard a sound out of either of the children.
Two shadows crossed the truck. The parents, never too far away, winged their way to the grove. The father circled over the scene, and the mother swooped in. She landed next to her child for a moment; and then she perched on the edge of the nest, where she could watch and encourage her.
Sound on!
Little Bird could not be comforted. But somehow, even as she cried, she must have heard the familiar tones of her mother gently chirruping at her. Finally she took to the air; her mother joined her.
All too soon, however, the young one was back, on the same branch, still in distress. She was trying to fly, but couldn't seem to summon the courage.
Back came the mother, circling the trees and flying in to land, this time on the branch right next to her child.
Startled, Little Bird took flight.
This time she didn't return.
Now it was the mother's turn to fret on the branch. Just as Little Bird had, Mama Bird became agitated, peering down at the ground.
Finally she, too, calmed down and left.
I was curious as to what might have upset them so much so I picked up the side-by-side and drove right to the area, now devoid of birds.
Nothing.
I looked up from this unfamiliar position underneath the nest and the trees and breathed deeply, thinking about these two birds I have come to care about so fiercely.
And then it came to me.
Today is 17 years since my Mum left this earth for heaven.
Sometimes a girl just needs her mum, even though she's been gone for 17 years. There may not be a reason. She just wants to know her mum is nearby.
And I thought of what my Dad's friend Tony Hanson told him: "She is with God and God is with us. So she's not very far away."
Even when Little Bird will have to part from her mother, in the regular course of things, I want to think they will still be connected in some way. She will have learnt what it is to be a good eagle because of how her mother has always been there for her.
Thank you for voting for my eagle family in the Calendar Contest! Click on the link above, scroll down past all the contest rules etc to below my eagle picture; click on the heart at the centre of the blue bar, and you've done it! Repeat every day until September 2, 2024 ...
🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🏠
Leave the field that the eagles call home and turn left onto the 855. Go up to the tower and turn left. Drive 20 kms on dusty gravel and turn left onto the 36. Head north for a few kms, past the burnout; and on your right you will see, about a quarter mile off the highway, a little white house with a red roof.
Only about 12 miles from the Good Rancher's place, as the eagle flies.
As you turn off the 36 onto the gravel something wonderful happens. A rainbow appears. Wait, a DOUBLE RAINBOW, arching gracefully over the house.
This house, this nest, that launched eight fledglings in their time:
Gordon
Mary
Allan
Clark
Margaret
Bruce
Mabel
Marilyn
This particular evening, the symbol of promise hovers over this place as my sister brings her son to see it, to see the nest that nurtured his family four generations ago.
The place where Ruth and Tiff brought their premature, sickly baby son after he was released from the Hanna hospital. Where Ruth prayed, "God, if you save my baby, I will give him back to you to serve you."
The place where she wept, 26 years later, after she had waved goodbye to him from the steps of their home and watched the car all the way up the dusty quarter mile until it vanished from her sight. Not once did she ask him not to go.
Her son Allan served God in India for over 40 years. Each time he returned to Canada for a brief period of home assignment, the first place he would go would be home.
He returned one time unexpectedly, shortly before she died. He came to tell her he loved her, to tell her thank you, Mom.
He had made his life on the other side of the world.
