From Bastion to Bay - The Heart of Saskatchewan

The Heart of Saskatchewan

Prince Albert Nursery is 18 kilometres north of town. As the crow flies that is, 'cause the highway is pretty much straight and there ain't much but crows around in the avian department this time of year. I know this to be true, 'cause I've been there a fair bit lately, but I gotta admit I'm not entirely sure this particular morning. The world is darker than dark and anything, 'cluding the end of this funny old flat planet, could be beyond my feeble headlights. I can't see nothin' but a couple of metres of angry snow, but I'm damn sure I'm on the highway, 'cause I'm still going and the ride is not too bumpy.

Sometimes a light appears far ahead, kinda weak like a flashlight that's been sittin' around too long. It comes to your eyes from a long way off, even squintin' through a cranky sky. The clouds are all set orange, kinda eerie and a little bit beautiful, if you're feeling some pride 'bout what you do in there. I know prairie "folk" are suspected of having a hankering for this sort of thing, but if your thoughts ain't reined too tight, you could let on that unearthly visitors mighta set down back of those trees.

The driveway into the site is a little ways into an easy curve that you might not expect, being the prairie and all. Some days you gotta slow down a long way before or you're gonna sail a long way past. The nursery is in there purring away -- you gotta believe me, throat of the Arctic or not. That's got to do with a bunch of fine people working like tired's a stranger, laughin' off the cold with a fire that burns deep as their dreams of spring. In the south field you'll find 'bout thirty new greenhouses, most of them with their ribs tucked in now. Three rows of 10, chugging out steam like great locomotives stoked to race the bitter wind. The Little Engines that Could, I'll call them, and if you peeked inside you'd know what I'm on about. It's green in there, green enough to make you smile. Course, the greenest thing in Saskatchewan is probably the thumbs. Winter snaps at your ass from October to May, and even then it's kinda hard to shake off. But we keep our wits, far as we can tell anyway, and we grow.

I hunker down into my woolies, grit my teeth and plunk my Sorels into the feathery snow. It's turned all peaceful, the wind's run off with a kick and a scowl. The clouds are breaking up some, wantin' to show off the great red ball peeking into the day. It's got the billowing steam all pink and I think of wild horses, 'stead of big old trains, their nostrils flared and puffin' after a winter run. I've never seen it so cold...I've never seen it so far away.

T.A. Craig Jones
Grower, PRT Prince Albert

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