Sunday November 23, 2014


Survey results are meant for general information only, and are not based on recognised statistical methods.

Farmer’s Valentine


We’ve never had a holiday: just the two of us, remotely romantic and away somewhere.

Farmer and I are around the farm working, or away, and perpetually come home to chores and children, dishes and laundry.

This isn’t sad and I am not complaining. For years as a single person, I did the same without someone to bump up against as friend or foe. Stability is what we have here, and if I wanted more adventure, I’d have found myself a Tarzan and swung from trees, instead of Farmer, for whom I swing gates and cook, to whom I hand wrenches, and for whom I find missing bolts on the shop floor. It’s all good.

And if he’d wanted a perfumed beauty queen with lacquered nails and high heels, he’d never have looked twice at me. So it is, and as I’ve said of other couples, we almost deserve each other.

These past few winters Farmer has looked at others flying off to tropical lands and vocalized some desire to do the same. We haven’t, and part of me is quite glad we didn’t sail on a giant cruise ship infected with some virus, or book into some resort only to watch our balcony fall off while the sun sets. I feel safe at home listening to the cold wind blow.

Wanting to do something healthy, I suggested we check out a mineral spa in our own province and Farmer agreed. So as I write this, we’ve got a reservation at Manitou Mineral Springs (the Canadian Dead Sea) near Watrous. Legendary healing waters; it just sounds right.

That great impenetrable wall (never holidaying before) might just be walked through. We may break the vacation barrier, or not. Our most preferred care-taker for Princess while we’re away might not be available. The weather could turn nasty. We may have to cancel.

Salt water either way; dare I get excited?

Roses and chocolates aren’t my valentine bliss, nor is the luxury of servants washing towels or making our bed, or even restaurant meals; certainly not restaurant meals.

I wonder if the expectation of a holiday, the idea that we will go away and play, rest and perhaps come back somehow renewed, somewhat healed, is the entire buzz: the idea of having this ultimate experience is the experience.

But if that’s so, we might just as well stay home and dream.





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