It rained last Sunday morning, not hard, just a steady drizzle, but it was a little too cool for me to sit on the porch and watch things start to green up. So I opted instead to sit at my computer, and in two and a half hours, at little effort and no cost to me, I took a trip around the world.
Although I often receive queries, through the world wide web, usually commenting on one of my articles, I am not one who surfs the net in search of the weird, the beautiful and the wonderful. I neither have the time nor will to do that. But I am a collector.
Over the last couple of years, more so since I have moved to the rural route outback of Markdale, quite a number of longtime friends, with my interest at heart, have forwarded to me many slides and videos that have miraculously shown up on their screens for one reason or another.
Many of these are of faraway places, some magnificent, panoramic views, interesting underwater seascapes, rambling desert landscapes, steep, tree-clad mountainside views, interesting quirks in caves, and historical towns and cities – all accumulations of great interest.
It was both interesting and fun for me to sit on my butt and, with the simple click of a single digit, I could zigzag the world, in almost any direction, stopping wherever, whenever I so felt the inclination. It took little imagination on my part to realize the possibility of being there.
If you had asked me 30 years ago if the technologies would be available for me to be doing this today, I would have answered with the query, “Are you possibly out of your mind?”
And yet I remember a short conversation that I had with my father, not many days prior to his death; he passed away in his sleep midway of his 91st year.
The conversation went something like this: “Dad, you have seen a lot of changes in your life. You and mom have conceived nine children, raised and educated seven of us. You must be proud of that. You have seen the first light bulb come to Fergus. You have seen the first radios, followed by the windup record players. You have seen the automobile replace the horse and buggy. You have seen mixed farming, with the now antique horse-drawn machinery, make way to powerful tractors, monoplanting of large acre fields and the overcrowding of factory farming. All in just one lifetime.”
“Yes,” was his single comment to that. “And they will rue the day for having cut down all the trees.”
“Dad. You have lived a relatively good and long life. Is there any single change you would have liked?”
His immediate reply to that was “Yes. Bring back the two little girls that we lost while still babies.”
Having lost two boys through freak accidents, I can relate to that. And like him, I have no desire to travel the world; I have all that on my desktop computer.
But the panoramic view I love most of all is right here at Westwind Farms, from my second floor bed-sitting room window.
There, each morning, I can see the sun rise high over the tree line of the hardwood bush that cuddles the pond twixt the rolling hills of what we affectionately refer to as the back forty. There is no view more pleasant. What more could I want?
Take care, ‘cause we care.