Ah, the Prairies. The lazy sunsets, the buzz of mosquitoes, the snap of a dry winter chill. Yes, it's official: we're moving to the Prairies. And not just any prairie, oh no, we're moving smack dab in the middle of 'em. That's right, Regina. The city that smells like it sounds.
Wait, that's not fair. I love Regina. It's a beautiful, small city (even by Canadian standards), that is at the very heart of everything I love about Western Canada. Saskatchewan, I think, is the oft overlooked gem of the west, with its friendly people, a booming economy and land, land, land! And no, it's not a parched wheat field from tip to tip. In fact, parts of it are down right hilly, and yes, there are trees. More than some parts of Alberta, I might add.
The many people and farmers I've met in Saskatchewan have been enterprising, resourceful and above all welcoming when I've come rolling onto their farm yards in my usually inappropriate rental car. Some of my most favorite writing subjects reside in the Land of Living Skies.
I've spent a fair amount of time in Regina, usually in four or five day stretches for farm shows and conferences. I first suspected I was pregnant with Chou while at one of those shows; is it strange that it already feels a bit like home?
Go west, young woman. Go west.
And so we shall.