Here I am late November, realizing a new year on the horizon and reflecting on the journey that brought us to Northern Ontario to farm.
If I want to get philosophical about it, I suppose my internal journey has always prodded me north. Or, at least to more open spaces, away from cement, traffic and chaos. I always loved the solitude of a long walk on a deserted country road, and gasped at visions barns on the horizon, and delighted even more if the scene included a cow or two. But I hadn't the foggiest on what I was actually observing. I was so out of touch with farming that a primary grade child would have been more knowledgeable on the needs of those animals.
I was born and raised in Toronto, and inevitably with every chapter of life I would be prompted to move further from the sprawl. Surprisingly, I was riddled with allergies and hay fever to every grass and dander imaginable, so the concept of true rural living wasn't even a consideration for me, just a fantasy.
Fast forward some decades, and voila...here I am, drizzled in hay fines most days, and petting every animal in the barn. I believe my immunity grew due to a wholesome diet, country fresh air and exercise. It's a miracle for sure. I was formally at the mercy of little pink Benadryl pills, and pleading for the first killer frost to end my allergic sufferings. Now I am immersed in grasses and pollens and animal dander of every variety?
You decide. But there's no debate for me, that from the time I started eating direct from the farm raised meats and drinking fresh, hand squeezed fruit juices, that within a few months I began realizing that I was no longer a slave to allergy pills. I believe that this dietary and environmental change has a direct correlation.
So, stay tuned for more tales of adventure- as you can't have a day of farming without one.
Cheers, till next time Canada,
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