Prairie light has a clarity that feels crystalline. Maybe it’s the largeness of the sky here. There are no mountains to stop the blue bowl that expands in every direction, a blue that only touches down to a razor sharp horizon after slipping over a rippling wheat sea.
In short, Saskatchewan is beautiful.
In spite of growing up on the West Coast, I feel a kind of homing instinctual love for this limitless landscape. Could it be some inherited DNA from my Saskatchewan-raised mother?
Or perhaps those distant horizons simply help to expand one’s perspective. Maybe compassion is born out of surviving hard winters with the help of your neighbours. Maybe it was that kind of winter-survival compassion and blue-sky thinking that made it inevitable that this would be the birthplace of Medicare.
We’re now in the more gently rolling landscape of Wakaw Lake. Shimmering aspen and flashing poplar are bisected by the stark clean white of the birches. Grebes and geese splash in the water and the soft breeze carries a sweet aroma from the sugary bleed of the dying leaves.
My life and my heart expands with every trip…even if the journey feels like coming home.
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