I was in the rural Eastern part of the province of Ontario in Canada, a place where my grandparents had a farm when I was young. I was walking the land with my grandfather who was explaining to me the work he had done converting the land to agriculture. We found ourselves at the edge of a huge terraced slope, facing west into the setting sun. It was more beautiful than I had remembered and the view was incredible and seemed to stretch on forever. The hills had been expertly terraced and all kinds of plants were growing here.
I remember thinking to myself that tis was a beautiful and proud tradition and should be preserved. I began to think about moving here to keep the farm alive as my grandparents got older. in reality the farm has been sold for fifteen years, and looked quite different from the dream farm. But the feeling of wanting to come back to the land was real, the feeling of wanting to put down roots and build somthing vital with a community of people who felt as I did.
Roots, Farming, Family
