Thursday, April 23, 2020
My adventures in farming began with Uncle Herb when I was 12 years old. Our growing-up years had been spent overseas or at the far east or west coast of Canada and family life had been quite removed from farming.
On a very rare visit to Saskatchewan, Uncle Herb proposed a business deal to me, a then 12-year-old, and I felt very privileged. The offer was 25 cents for every Caragana bush planted to make a shelter break along the east side of the gravel road up to the farm yard. I was ecstatic about this. Not only was I given a special business deal, I was singled out by my uncle to get away from the adult visiting going on; how did he know?
Two years later my life was enriched again when I was given the opportunity now at 14 years old to spend the entire summer at the Domes’ home farm with grandparents Olga and Archie. The big bonus was that Uncle Herb and Aunt Helen lived at the adjoining farm. I was welcomed into both homes and my good Uncle Herb did not disappoint this time either. Daughter Barb was then grown and had moved away, Julie was 10, Tracey was 6 and Merna was a toddler. Aunt Helen had her hands full and I could fit in and fill that age gap. Uncle Herb cheerfully took on the job of showing a city slicker how to be a junior farm hand and cow poke.
My mother Irene was the sibling closest in age to Herb. She always adored her Herbie but was more than a little “amazed” at the things I did that summer. During her growing up years she had never been allowed to do any “man’s” work and that included being in the barn. Attending to big animals was out of the question. So, wasn’t she surprised to hear that I had participated that summer in rounding up cattle on horseback, castrating bull calves, looking after pink eye, driving a tractor, a dirt bike, and so on.
Driving a tractor (or anything else for that matter as a city kid) was to be but one of the memorable experiences Uncle Herb created for me that summer. He was famous for his big gardens, the bigger the better, and truly we were able to spend a whole day just on the potatoes with that tractor. That first run was a little hairy though with me having been conscripted to do the driving. Uncle Herb rode standing, hanging onto the back and dictated instructions as I tried to manage engaging and releasing the clutch, getting the tractor into gear and managing the gas pedal. Needless to say this operation involved a big wheelie ride for Uncle Herb with him yelling, “Holy moly, Inkie, you almost killed me!” A big laugh soon followed. I did get better and we managed to get the field work done that day. Other days he could return the favour with me riding passenger in his big truck, white knuckled, as he looked over the edges for cows in the coulees. This would be done without getting out of the truck to look over the edge, if you know what I mean. He had a lot of fun seeing my face and asking with an impish grin, “What’s wrong Inkie?” It was a summer I never forgot and I know it put me on the path to farming, including cows and horses later in my own life. Thanks Uncle Herb!
Sincerest condolences are sent to Helen, Barb, Tracey, Merna and family members. Aileen & Zbigniew
Assiniboia Chapel