On the other side of Saskatoon we drove past a yard full of rocks and sculptures. I tried to get a photo from the moving vehicle but we were too far away. The photo I ended up with has a grain terminal in the background though. The cement abomination dominates the picture. These new things are so ugly; in comparison the eyes delight on the old wooden elevators that are rapidly disappearing from the prairie horizon.

It was too hot in the church hall Saturday night when we got there about 9:00 for the dance, so we retreated to the front step after an initial foray into the building to see what was what. Petra came with us and as we drove around the hall to find parking, I pointed at a blue-sweatered woman walking and said “There’s that woman I saw a few months ago in the Zellers cafeteria and thought was M! Remember?” It looked like she was heading to the same wedding party as we were, and sure enough she was and it was M.

It was an unusual treat to see and talk to her again. Other than that familiar-looking-stranger sighting I’d had in the mall, I hadn’t seen her for 25 years. She said as soon as she saw me with Petra, she knew exactly who I was because I haven’t changed a bit.

Well, she has. But I had recognized her in the cafeteria even so, though I doubted myself because the change was fairly drastic. She used to be one of those slim, elegant, bell-voiced city girls with long, polished fingernails. Now she is heavier all over and the skin of her face is thick and tanned. She married a farmer years back and he was with her, so he had Farmbeau to talk to for a while before they left, fairly early. Turns out M worked with Farmbeau’s cousin, the groom, for quite a few years.

When we were getting ready back at Petra’s, I didn’t like anything I had brought along, so changed one article of clothing or another until finally she lent me a gold-embroidered black vest that suited, and away we went. Unfortunately I’d dressed for air conditioning, in slacks and a long-sleeved shirt. Boy, did I envy the smart ones who came in sleeveless dresses and looked not only cool but like soft flowers in the muggy evening air. Seeing them reminded me that I don’t have a nice summer dress to go to a dance in, and I must go shopping.

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Friday
9:46 a.m.

Farmbeau and I experience the simplest of things differently.

Normally we leave the windows open at night to let the house cool off, but last night I closed them before going to bed, because woodsmoke was wafting through the windows from somewhere outside. When I got up at 8 this morning, the house was already too warm and the windows were still closed. I opened the ones on the shady sides of the house.

Farmbeau said he’d left them closed because it is already 70 degrees outside and he thinks I’d forget to close them before the day got much warmer. Yesterday he’d closed them at 1:00 when it was already hot out, even in the shade.

A while ago, I stood at the kitchen sink washing last night’s supper dishes (last night we went out to the garden together right after supper; I thinned radishes and turnips and transplanted cosmos; Farmbeau watered and weeded). Through the window a delicious cool breeze gently caressed my bare arms (I am still in my nightie), and I thought, how is it that he can believe it is warmer in the shade outside than it is in the house, while just the opposite seems true to me?

Is it because the air is moving, so it feels cool?

Well, it’s not worth arguing about. And we didn’t. I must simply remember to close the windows before much longer.

Don is having muffets for breakfast. I am about to have a bath, then load up the van with the recyclables to take them to town. We’ll drop books off at the library, make a deposit at the bank (I got my cheque for the cabin sale yesterday) ...

Goodbye, Cabin!

... order Don’s birthday cake from the store or the bakery (“I’ll pick out my cake, okay Mom?” he said), and hopefully we’ll get all this done before the day heats up too much more.