Submitted by Preeceville area farmer, Kaare Askildt
Yep! The rumour is true! We were not for sale, but someone wanted our farm bad enough that they made an offer that was satisfactory to both ourselves and the buyers! We have sold our farm. However, our offer on a smaller farm in Hazel Dell has been accepted, so we won't be moving too far away. So no, we are not giving up on country living and hobby farming! But we have come to the conclusion that at our age it would be smart to downsize or more appropriate to right size.
Many times we start a project thinking it will be a piece of cake, and then half way through our bodies cry out: "You fool; you will pay dearly for this!" And we do! We ice our aching muscles, splash on Absorbine Junior, soak our bodies in hot baths, take aspirin and give each other gentle massages, but it still takes about a week before we're back to normal.
We had the occasion to meet a couple of very nice and helpful persons just recently. After having taken our dogs to the Barkyard Kennels before our drive to Camrose, AB, we stopped at the Chuckwagon Diner in Sturgis for a bite to eat. We were served by a very nice young lady, her beautiful eyes were sparkling and her winning smile made us melt! Nine year old Katie Chernyk took our orders and served our meals. What an efficient and cute little girl! My wife is already packing up for the move, and we had to rent some storage space at the Endeavour School. That rental is handled by Carol at the Endeavour store. She took us up to the school, showed us the room we had been assigned for our storage and proceeded to help unloading the truck! Thank you Carol!
The recent heat wave has caused our laying hens to go on strike! Yesterday we got two eggs and today only one! My wife says that they are moulting, but I think they don't want to lay until they get that handsome young farmhand Jess Olson back!
I have named our boar Napoleon! It's very befitting as he climbs half way up on the sty fence, stands there with one front leg up and the other hanging down, and with his head that is disproportionately larger than his body he just surveys the yard. Looking for Wellington I would presume or maybe Josephine. He motions with his head and utters the odd snort once in a while.
Then he drops back into his pigsty and runs around while snorting to himself like he has discovered an alternate plan. Runs back to the fence, lies on his belly and peeks through the small crack at the bottom of the fence. He does this once in the morning, again around mid day and then late in the afternoon. He has already rooted up a few trenches as hiding spots in his sty, and when he's laying in them all you can see is his pink snout. He doesn't know it yet, but like his namesake he is fighting a battle that he cannot win! He won't be exiled; he will join us on the dinner table!
... Well, it had to be done. The potato patch was overgrown with weeds, so the only thing we could do was to plough it up and pick whatever potatoes would emerge. I hooked up the deep tiller and started ploughing. My wife would come behind me and pick the potatoes. It was a very warm day and the bugs were out. The mosquitoes were divided into squadrons and were criss crossing the potato patch. I had sprayed with OFF so I was OK, or so I thought. I was at the far end when my bladder urgently advised me to make a pit stop. My wife was at the other end, so I turned the 4020 sideways and climbed off to relieve myself. I had just started when a couple of black wasps decided to check out that part of my body. I tried to aim my spray at them and at the same time shooing them away with my other hand. I could not stop what I was doing, because of a combination of bladder pressure and my age, and the wasps were circling closer and closer. They were too close to the fly to close it! I started walking backwards, but tripped myself up on a furrow and landed on my back! The wasps took off, the spraying stopped and I was about to secure my sprayer when one of the mosquitoes broke away from the squadron and nailed me right there! Oh well, better a mosquito bite than a wasp sting! Later in the afternoon the chap that bought our farm and his friend showed up to take another look around. Mosquito bites are itchy, so I kept repeating to myself over and over: Do not scratch the bite!
Wait a minute! The English language is very hard to use for an immigrant! The wasps were too close for me to close my fly! When my dog chased the dove, the dove dove into the bushes! Help me here!
