Twilight at Falling Downs

My perch on the porch is a green lawn chair, one of a set of four we were gifted when Uncle Murray bought the farm. Two are permanently in the car in case me and the Farm Manager have a spontaneous urge to sit by the shore of Georgian Bay. Don’t know where the fourth one is.

I’m sitting there, pointed vaguely to the southwest, watching the sun go down. Tonight it dropped below the horizon just to the left of the barn. For the last few weeks it’s been setting behind the barn. At the summer solstice she went down well north of the barn.

My contemplations were interrupted by a great cacophony of Sandhill Crane eruptions. Two batches of four passed overhead, probably two sets of parents each with two young ones, heading off to winter in Florida. The sun had set but they were up high enough to catch the evening rays, a magnificent sight!

The Sandhill Cranes that summer in these parts would be the lazy ones. Their more ambitious relatives go all the way to the shores of the Arctic Ocean. In fact, they go all the way to Alaska and Baffin Island!

That’s some serious commuting!

Speaking of serious commuting, there’s a young guy just up the road who commutes all the way to Baffin Island. I shit you not!

He’s a diesel mechanic who works at an iron ore mine up there. Till recently, he’d drive down to Waterloo every other week. The company sent a plane to pick up a crew for two weeks of twelve hour shifts, while dropping off the alternate crew. It’s a good gig. He’s gone for two weeks, then he’s home with his young children for two solid weeks.

And he’s very well paid. By local standards, he’s making two years wages for six months work.

But apparently things aren’t that great in the iron ore biz. The company recently cancelled the Waterloo arrangement; now Buddy has to catch his plane in Montreal every two weeks. So instead of a three hour drive to Waterloo, he’s got an eight hour drive to Montreal!

That effectively knocks two days off his fourteen days of down time.

He’s sticking with it though, at least for now.

Speaking of twilight, old Chloe isn’t long for this world. We’re not sure exactly how old she is, but it’s well over twenty years. We lost Lucy a year ago, we lost Phil in April, and soon it’ll be just Doublewide, the barn cat who got invited into the big house, and fourteen year old rottie-shepherd Boomer.

It’s only since April that Boomer has been our only dog. For her entire life she’s been overshadowed by dogs who were cuter or smarter or both. She’s finally got the spotlight on herself.

She’s enjoying every minute!