And No Mosquitoes
This is a story of the author's move to British Columbia after retiring from the Canadian Air Force, Royal and otherwise. And not just anywhere in BC, but in the lower Fraser Valley, close to the Pacific Ocean. Where the air is balmy, the flowers bloom all year, and there are no mosquitoes. The book relives the joy, the challenges and the wonders of nature on this idyllic acreage in Langley.
Prelude
Having just come from Edmonton, we were attuned to the sound of constant slapping whenever fresh air was present. Yet here we were, outside in the beautiful late-summer evening and aware only that something was amiss. Then in sunk in. No mosquitoes. Therefore no slapping, no screening, no long sleeve shirt in the 22 degree Celsius condition and no gobs of repellent smeared over uncovered parts of the body. This was the pleasant surprise, no mosquitoes, a factor that would greatly enhance the enjoyment of life on the west coast.
157 pages
ISBN 0-9737390-2-9
For the next six years, as I converted from a driven, career minded over-achieving Canadian to a verifiable member of British Columbia, Terry and I did a ton of different things, I with fire and enthusiasm and Terry frequently kicking and screaming. Mostly, these were unnecessary and occasionally they were exasperating. We built barns and greenhouses and bridges, and bought tractors and truckloads of bark mulch and meters of big-0 drain pipe. I prayed for snow so I could clear the neighbours' driveways with my new tractor and front-end loader, and I helped ewes birth lambs while our neighbours, the owners, drank margaritas in Los Cabos. We also welcomed wild life, particularly deer, and then fruitlessly encouraged them to go away when they overstayed their welcome. Every method of encouragement was tried, including hanging human hairballs along their pathways.
As we grew into the lifestyle of this most western province, so unlike any other in many ways, we watched the uniquely irresponsible antics of the provincial politicians and sensed that the province had the leadership it deserved. Because, after living for a spell in this beautifully irresponsible province with comically irresponsible leadership, we too had reached the age of irresponsibility. In the process, we made many good friends, mostly irresponsible, and developed a resistance to leaving the province for any other part of Canada.
As true converts to la-la land, we vehemently professed our Saskatchewan roots and continued to love that province, from a distance. As well, having lived in Ontario for 17 years, we continued to love that province, but also from a distance. It would take an earthquake of considerable magnitude, heaven forbid, or another whopping provincial tax increase, to blast us out of this magical land. Except during the winter, of course, when the wet season envelops the lower mainland. Then it is fair to remove one's self to some faraway valley of the sun, without fear of losing one's citizenship in this magic kingdom.