At the time, I was living with my husband in Saskatchewan, on the Canadian prairies. We were “not from around there”, as the saying goes, having only just left the big city and bought a house in a small rural community. In spite of, or perhaps because of the fact that we were obviously fish out of water, we were welcomed into a close knit community of farmers, most of whom lay claim to farming histories that span generations.
Once a month, those that could would all gather for a potluck feast at the house of one couple who hosted it. Sometimes there were so many people there would barely be room to move and, at other times, only one or two guests would be in attendance. Always, there was an abundance of tall tales, laughter, and good food.
On one such occasion, I was invited to share some of my artwork, as a fledgling artist still new to the group. I remember nervously passing a small selection of watercolour illustrations to those seated around the big farm table. Everyone was very kind and encouraging with their comments and the hostess graciously purchased the painting pictured above.