Roots

Last weekend my brother Shawn and I headed out of Regina on a road trip with my Mom and Dad. My grandparents' farm where my Dad grew up was our destination, but we knew there would be several detours. Our first stop was Redvers for a short tour. My Dad attended high school there and my grandma moved to town after my grandpa passed away in 1987. Ten miles east we pulled into Antler where we were greeted by our cousin Harvey Bauche who runs the garage in town. He gave us a twenty minute account of current events in the area. Just down the street we grabbed a bite to eat at the Antler bar, owned by one of Dad's old friends.

After taking a few pictures around town we were southbound on the 6o0 towards Fertile. A few inhabited houses and a community centre are all that remain in Fertile. Dad described the elevators, churches, and school yard he remembers when he attended school in the town. Just southeast of the hamlet is the farm. I recall the farm being hidden by thirty foot tall poplar trees - the RM has since widened the road, and smaller trees now line the perimeter.

The farm itself is much like I remember - the old car beside the shed, the grain bins, the barn which collapsed years ago. The house has turned from green to grey as the paint wears off. The truck, tractor, and other machinery sit idle as they did when I was a kid. Gone are the gas barrels, the threshing machine, combine, and the metal granaries. After an hour of pictures and reminiscence we traveled west to Storthoaks, the town my grandparents lived in after retiring from farming. The rec centre, church, park, and hall - all landmarks from

my childhood are still there. Two miles north hidden in a grove of trees and surrounded by canola is St. Anthony's Cemetery and the graves of my Dad's parents. The experience was very serene and the area beautiful and quiet save the chirping of birds. Visit the cemetery and you will agree.
Upon reaching my grandma's parents' farm north of Alida, we were impressed with the condition of the house. Built at least ninety years ago, the house was sound enough for us to enter. None of us were brave enough to attempt the narrow stairway leading to the second floor.
This was probably for the better as
Dad and I later spotted a raccoon peaking out a hole in the roof. Dad also caught a glimpse of a moose a few hundred metres southwest of the granaries, but he failed to make an appearance for the rest of us.

The sun began to set as we rolled into our last stop, Cantal. It consists of an admirable stone church, an abandoned rectory and house, and a cemetery. The hamlet has been like this for at least the last twenty-five years, although the church is still in use. Open church doors allowed us a self-guided tour of the interior.

Night came upon us we left Cantal north on the gravel road towards highway 13. A stop in Carlyle for a late supper and a thrilling second half Riders game topped off our Saturday. The day had it all: great weather, pictures, memories, and family.