And so - goodbye

"Wait till you see the river!” he said as we drove along a crooked trail through the hay crop. He was enthusiastic about this venture and excited about showing it to me.

You come upon it quickly, and it takes your breath away. 150 feet straight down. For years I watched as women especially would step back and grab the kids. And even after we got to know it well, that “wow” factor never ceased to kick in.
We grew to love the river with a passion. I often thought we should have built some steps down the steep hill to the water. Maybe the new owners will want to do that.

The land belonged to a psychiatrist. We tried to buy it once, and he changed his mind. Then he became ill, and the real estate agent called us one day a couple of years later to say it was for sale again. The deal was made in one phone call.

Our first job was to clear the land from the edge of the crop line to the river embankment. It took quite a few weekends and was hard work. We cleared an enormous pile of brush and watched it burn one Sunday evening.
This gave us a clear view to the river. And we wanted to build as close to this view as possible. The county folks worried about the embankment eroding and taking our house with it. But that didn’t happen. Not a bit of it.

It was time to start building the house.
Merv is a project man. He gets the ideas, and I’m the cheerleader. It’s a good balance that has worked well for us. And I’ve learned to respect his dreams because my life has been greatly enriched by them. This dream included a log house in the forest overlooking the river, so that was the plan.

A big oil rig team appeared one weekend. They drank beer, and laughed a lot. They were ‘moonlighting’ with the rig. “Not good enough” they said on the first water test. “We have to go down further.” Soft water, really soft water is such an exquisite luxury. Skin glows. Dishes sparkle. Laundry brightens. When company came it was the first comment – “Your water- it’s so soft!”

The road builder arrived soon after. Spent hours going up and down, digging out all the black soil, and filling back in with heavy sand. It’s a long road. We’ve walked it, cross-country skied it, and dug ourselves out of it. It’s just as straight and true and solid as the day he finished it.

The house foundation team moved in next. The contractor had to be home for his wedding on the weekend of August 12th. Even so they didn’t pack up and leave until the day before.

Now we had an outer structure, and the neighbors slowed down even more as they passed by. Other workmen came to shingle the roof and build the fireplace.
Merv spent a miserable November driving here at all hours, sometimes in the middle of the night to check on the heaters in the basement. We had to completely dry the foundation so that the furnaces could be installed correctly. And as with most Novembers in Canada, it was the cruelest month of all.

With the outside framework done, we were fairly protected from the weather as winter settled in. I still remember the weekend that a big new table saw appeared on the rough floor in front of the fireplace. Merv’s Mom was a builder. There was little money back then, but she took what they did have and built the small house that her son grew up in. He still entertains us with his stories of boyhood adventures in his neighborhood. And now, taking his mother’s lead, he was going on another adventure. He was going to finish this house by himself.
And he did. Every weekend for 7 months, he and I were here at 7 o’clock on Saturday mornings. He nailed in one piece of cedar after the other while I kept a fire going in the fireplace, cleaned up, kept his supplies close at hand, and fed him. I got a bit handier with tools, and could help with some of the easier stuff.
In the meantime, we had sold our latest house and were having a bit of trouble finding a temporary place to live. Nancy and Scott had to change schools more than once – thank goodness they were made of strong stuff. There were times driving home on cold, dark Sunday nights tired and dirty – what the heck are we doing?

We moved in on the August long weekend 1979.

Scott has his own special history with this house and land. Although he ended up in broadcasting, he was very close to us as we adapted to the house, the land, and the rhythm of country living. He might decide to add some of his memories. And who knows – he might also drive past here the odd time as the years go by, just to check things out.

Christmas has been special here. Cedar glows so magically in winter when you turn on the lights at night. The walks along the frozen river on Christmas afternoons, the little ones slipping and sliding on the ice, a coyote way down the river looking over his shoulder at us.

Baseball was big in the summer with 3 acres of yard for the ball diamond. A game of 500, or a Frisbie contest. Going out to shoot a few golf balls will be the pastime that Merv and I will miss the most – by far. Bonnie started a wild water fight one summer afternoon. We still laugh about that one. And our kite. That huge kite lasted for years. It would go so high we thought it was bound for heaven.

Bonfires and weiner roasts, marshmellows and deck tennis –

30 years. It’s been such a good house. From voyages near or far, we would drive along the county road, turn the corner to our farmhouse and say “There’s our house – waiting patiently for us to come back home”.
The trees have grown so big, we can almost touch their branches from the summer kitchen. No dogs anymore to scamper down the steep hill to the river. How easily they did that. Without a doubt, this was the perfect life for a dog.

Today, the couple buying our 40 acres next door were tracking the riverside and picking possible building sites. I was out hitting golf balls and had been looking for a lost ball in the little enclosure where our dogs are buried. “They loved it out here”, I said to them, “we had 3 litters of adorable puppies, and those two dogs were such good friends of ours – loyal and true.” And suddenly I could feel myself choking up. They seemed to understand completely.

We’ve never taken this land for granted. We have never ceased to feel humble and honored to have “borrowed” this piece of Alberta for 30 years.
But it’s time. It’s time to move on. There are things to do and places to go.
And so – goodbye old friend. Goodbye.