I drive these roads almost every day. I know this view. And while I dream of world travel, seeing exotic new places, there’s a comfort and beauty in the familiarity of my place in the world.
I belong here, on the banks of the Peace River, beside rolling fields and spindly aspen forests. My birthplace has given me a love of wild country and a pride in the beauty of a brittle, ice-choked winter.
It’s just a ditch, burgeoning with alfalfa and weeds, bordered by a barbed-wire fence, canopied by prairie-vast sky. No roadside attraction, just a few feet along my daily drive. But it’s funny how I look for and note this little slice of my place every time I drive these roads. A piece of ditch here, a cluster of trees on the way home, a bend in the river a kilometre further on. I have wonderful memories from my travels, but I will always value the sense of belonging in knowing I am home.
“A Swath of Alfalfa,” 10.5″ x 14.5″ watercolour on paper
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