|canadian pride in the heart of the prairies...|
summer is here. temperatures are rising above thirty degrees celsius, the days are long, and the open road is calling my name. wedding season is already in full-swing, which means that i could easily dj every weekend, if i wanted to. i do want to, but i also want to prioritize getting out and enjoying the summer, and not working six days every single week. since canada day afforded me a three-day weekend, i decided to make the most of the last chance i had to hit the road for a little adventure.
|kenaston, saskatchewan - small-town saskatchewan high rises...|
i have family in regina, saskatchewan, that i haven't seen since 2006. i'd rather be a do-er than a talk-er, so instead of repeating the old 'i should really get out there to see them... it's been so long!' i sent them an e-mail, and invited myself for a visit. family is good like that.
when the clock struck three pm on friday, i donned my green sunnies, opened all the windows and the sunroof, cranked the road trip tunes, and set out to follow those little white lines heading east. around dinner time, a sign advertising an antiques shop lured me into a little town called kitscoty, just shy of the alberta-saskatchewan border.
the antiques shop was closed, as were any potential dinner options, so i pulled out my camera and explored the main street of kitscoty.
stretching across the nation from coast to coast, you'll find that countless small towns share the same backbone - the canadian national railway. as a child i stared out the window for the edmonton-regina journey every year or two, and the sight of a towering grain elevator meeting the train tracks on the horizon is a distinguishing element in those memories.
|stunning view from a pit stop i took, overlooking the north saskatchewan river|
|sunset just east of saskatoon|
shadows lengthen; the sunlight fades from cloud to cloud, kindling their torn edges as it dies from softness to softness down the prairie sky. a lone farmhouse window briefly blazes; the prairie bathes in mellower, yellower light, and the sinking sun becomes a low and golden glowing on the prairies edge...
- who has seen the wind; w.o. mitchell