Canada Capers - Catching Up At Last - Part 2

January 29, 2026 Posted in Musings

This week’s missive will be short and sweet, I hope. I have much to tell you and very little time to do it. We are in the throes of moving into Mooinooi, and it is far more challenging than I ever thought. We are not spring chickens anymore. But more about that later. Let’s get back to my travels in Canada to see the kids.

The sole purpose of my visit to Canada was to spend time with my children, to become reacquainted with my grandchildren and to relax. I had no agenda and had absolutely no appointments to keep. The only dates I would like to make would be with two friends, Penny and Gabi, if at all possible. All I wanted to do was recover from the Malaria, relax, and watch the world go by.

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I had spent ten days with Lise and Isla, which was amazing, but now it was the boys’ turn. When you have four competitive children, you have to divide your time equally, straight down the line.

In our home, when sharing was done, we had a system where one person divided the loot, another did the checks and balances, and the third and fourth had the first and second pick. The one who whinged gets a backhand and does the sharing next time. There were seldom discrepancies. Measures and scales were used.

Whatever I was ordered to do, I would do it. I assured my daughters-in-law that I was up for babysitting, au pairing, and housekeeping. These hands were willing and able.

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The Wedding

I attended the wedding of Erin’s colleague as their plus one. We had such a good time, and I was introduced to wonderful people from all around the world. This truly is a cosmopolitan country where, no matter where you come from, Poland or Potchefstroom, you are a Canadian.

It was fun to dress up, have my hair professionally “done” by Lise, shop for new sandals, and wear something a little more formal. I had not done that in ages.

Erin and I went shopping for an outfit and explored vintage/thrifting stores, a first for me. I still regret not purchasing the black sequin trousers I admired, but I resisted the temptation with great remorse.

Being escorted by my eldest was an incredible treat. He, also gifted with the gift of gab, kept us entertained with his knowledge of distant places, his quick wit, and easy banter. I had a wonderful time.

The radiant bride and handsome groom organised a superb celebration, not overly extravagant. The Tapas menu was a feast of delicious dishes served at regular intervals until we all called for a halt!

Jaco and Erin are avid Pearl Jam fans who try every summer to attend Eddy Vedder’s concerts wherever he is touring. One of the guests at our table was Polish and suspiciously asked Jaco if he knew Poland after expressing his admiration for its beauty. Yes, he replied, because they had attended Pearl Jam shows in Krakow! That’s the charm of travel, and a slap on the back moment for him!

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It was summer, and the living was easy. With Emily, her Mum, and the girls, we headed to one of many public swimming pools to cool off and enjoy the various attractions. Paradise for Maeva, who splish-splashed, and even Lenni had a baptismal feet-wetting.

On Fridays, we headed to District Brewery for a sundowner, where we played games, chatted, I sampled some beers, and eventually settled on a non-alcoholic beverage. The menu is extensive, but it seems that beer enthusiasts here enjoy a wide range of bitter brews.

Maeva would dress to the nines. Kids can entertain themselves in a safe environment, giving busy parents a well-deserved break.

Ah, I was in for a surprise. While I was there, I celebrated Dwayne’s (Emily’s dad) birthday, Emily’s, Maeva’s and Joe’s. Very well-orchestrated, and each one was a roaring success.

Summer is the best month, or rather season, in Saskatchewan, in my opinion, and driving out into the countryside is a delight in shades of green, lemony yellow, and the majestic cerulean, cobalt, and sapphire blues of vast, expansive skies with cotton-wool puffed-up clouds. Serene, calming, and ethereal.

Into a small weekend holdall, I packed a few things for a week with Timmy, Carla, Neil and Danny on their acreage south of Regina, near the small town of Carlyle.

The two-hour drive there was quick, and the scenery captivating. I am always especially drawn to the charming barns and grain storage buildings that line the railway and the road. Old, rustic, often colourful and quaint, and so different from our concrete silos in the Overberg.

Another fascinating sight is the oil rigs pumping away in the fields. If you're on the vein, the chances are excellent that an oil company will request drilling permissions. No wonder there are people south of the border who’d like to annex Canada, until the coup d'état in Venezuela, of course.

Nothing beats a family weekend away from the coalface, and a weekend at the poolside must rank up there with the top ten things to do in the summer. Maeva thought so anyway as she quickly slipped into her arm bands and dived into the pool. Soon, Neil and Danny joined her, and that’s where they stayed until the sun set.

We think there’s nothing better than an African sunset, well, that may be, but the sunsets I captured on the farm came a close second.

The day was rounded off by Timmy’s superb racks of pork ribs, Carla’s sourdough bread, home-grown salads, herbs and a table surrounded by happy families.

I spent my week with the Van Heerden’s walking; I toured their garden and their acreage, and I walked the dirt road to the main road to town.

The landscape was breathtaking, and I couldn’t photograph it enough. I feel compelled to share them with you.

Two things caught my eye. The first was the abundance of colourful flowers growing along the verges, intermingled with grasses, wheat and canola. (The second was the speed of growth, from seedling to seed took a few weeks, three months at the most.)

If I’d had a pair of secateurs with me, I might’ve picked huge armloads of flowers for vases at home. But, I had to resist as many of these colourful blooms were probably weeds. But the cornflowers and thistles and even roses wrenched at my heartstrings.

The only wildlife I spotted was a white-tailed deer bouncing through the wheat field. I might’ve scared the animal as he scampered and jumped out of range for a photograph. His white tail proudly displayed like a flag against the green landscape. The breeding hen lost interest in her four eggs, which we noticed on our daily inspections, and then one day the nest was empty. A Prairie dog or jackal, Carla surmised.

The snake was an adrenaline rush of fear as I almost stood on the end of its tail. Fortunately, the snake’s instincts had kicked in before mine, and he slithered off into the grass at the speed of light.

On every walk to the big road, I realised my strength was returning; my enthusiasm and thrill bubbled within me, all good signs of recovery.

The sight that gave me the greatest thrill was the swish of the wheat as a gentle breeze moved the swathes in great waves, rolling, undulating across the plains. The air was perfumed with the scent of fresh green leaves and stalks, the ears only beginning to turn gold. (Like good cold-pressed Virgin olive oil, we can identify the colour “Green” which needs no explanation.) I wish I could describe the swish-swishing of the wheat as the wind ripples across the fields

It was the school’s summer holidays, and I had the privilege of observing the boys as they worked, created, played, and laboured on various chores and crafts. I was told that many moons ago, the extended summer holidays were intentionally made so long so that scholars could assist during the harvesting. I'm sure this practise still continues on the Prairies.

They were never idle. There were days when I scarcely saw Danny as he crafted, out of cardboard, wood, and various crafting tools, a submachine gun. His attention to detail was remarkable. He would later equip himself with the gear of a good soldier or marksman, including a helmet with night-vision, binoculars, a cartridge belt, and a bulletproof vest. I thought his observations were precise and painfully accurate for an eight-year-old.

In their barn, the boys, eight and ten, were permitted to use welding equipment; they were proficient with tools like electric drills, saws, and other more complex tools. What redeemed them, in my opinion, was that they wore all the necessary protective gear and were coached on the operating systems.

I have saved this quote by Charlie Brown: “The secret to happiness is also the secret to a long and fulfilling life, and here it is: Let every situation be what it is instead of what you think it should be and then make the best of it!”

Carla and I went into the village one day to do a spot of shopping, exploring, and snooping around. After an extensive search in the thrifting store for something appropriate to wear to a 40th birthday bash with the dress code “GOLF”, we went for coffee.

I still have not mastered the art of sourdough baking and, once again, spent an afternoon learning, filming, and taking notes from Carla, who has mastered bread baking. Once I’ve settled into a rhythm in our home and all my boxes have been unpacked, I will take on the craft as she has taught me (twice) in the hope that I, too, can bake a loaf just as well as hers.

Not only is she a baker, but she also seems to master any craft she sets her mind to. Her recipes are straightforward, delicious, and made with the best, freshest, and seasonal ingredients—a girl after my own heart. Victory is in this kitchen.

The cat on the bed every evening when I went down to my bedroom, the pooches that followed me and guarded me, the ambience, sense of freedom and peace on the farm, the long walks, the refreshing company, and this little family’s love, kindness and generosity soon had me feeling at home. I was loved here, and I appreciated that.

Neil is a fine young man with a kind heart and a good soul. Danny is funny, and I appreciate his concern and offer of the trampoline step ladder to use as a Zimmer frame. Both boys are extremely versatile, creative, sporty, daring and fun. They are representative of their parents, and it warms my heart.

There’s never a dull moment on this acreage, believe me. Carla says every day is a challenge, but the rewards are endless. Timmy belongs here; he has a sparkle in his eyes and is enthusiastic to get up and moving every morning. They live in a friendly community and have friends who come over for a braai. This is life, and I approve wholeheartedly.

Timmy and Carla's South African roots are ingrained in the barn, where every member of the family has their own off-road dirt bike, which has inspired the two boys to race. Who wouldn't go that far? A boy's dream come true. A lot of tinkering goes on with those bikes as their performance improves. Of course, the big guy came a-cropper on his motorbike but lived to do a “show and tell” of his caper. A good lesson learned, I think. My Dad would say, "It's all in the sandwich, Timmy!"

The boys would not let me leave before I tasted all their hot sauces, which I did, until I couldn't, they said the ones not suitable for my palate would be the obvious choice to pack for Grandpa Tim in Onrus. He loves his hotter than hot sauce, just like them. I agreed.

As the sun set on another magnificent day, I left these Van Heerden’s with a lighter heart, knowing they’re exactly where they’re meant to be and are absolutely fine.

This morning, Timmy posted a short video of the first milking of their dairy cow. They’ve really adapted to this new life, and the guinea fowl, I hope, has survived the brutal winter and has a farmyard friend now.

I wonder if the old guinea fowl Timmy lugged home one afternoon has a recollection of Africa because in Canada, “it’s so cold it can make you cry. It’s so cold you want your dad to come pick you up. Even when you’re fifty-three years old.” Mike Myers.

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A perfect summer’s day presents an ideal opportunity to meet up for brunch and enjoy an ice cream. Although we were on the Prairies, which resemble the flatlands of the Orange Free State, hundreds of lakes are scattered across the countryside. Here, the landscape, blue skies and wheat fields may resemble a part of South Africa, but little else does; there are no clumps of Eucalyptus, only forests of White Birch trees.

“The white birch or paper birch (Betula papyrifera) is renowned for its versatile bark, which gets whiter as the tree ages. Indigenous Peoples have used this bark for canoes, baskets, and more. Some Indigenous groups living in what we now know as Saskatchewan, Alberta and B.C. have also traditionally harvested a specific fungus that grows on birch trees (Inonotus obliquus) and used it to carry live embers from place to place to start fires more easily.” From the WWF website

We visited Moose Mountain Provincial Park for a fun morning and a family portrait.

The day ended perfectly. With an ice cream. Not a Gelato but almost as good and very generous indeed.

This is us in all our splendour.

The drive home was sweet; we were all drowsily daydreaming about a perfectly happy day. While Miss Maeva and Lenni napped, we returned to our thoughts, and in between, I captured the landscape for old times' sake. A carpet of yellow bedecked by an endless blue sky, dotted here and there for interest by puffy clouds with a promise of rain, maybe? I constantly had to remind myself that the sun sets at 22h00 here in the north.

Back in Regina, I went to my cosy bedroom, where my early morning visitors were Lenni, Maeva, and a cup of coffee Joe had brewed. Most mornings, I’d wake up, and my first thought was, “Is my cappuccino here yet?” This combination of coffee, kids, and chaos was the best way to start the day.

My days were filled with all the activities busy children participate in, and Maeva was a constant delight. Like her parents, she had an exhausting schedule, which she managed in typical Maeva style.

We attended her gymnastics class, which was a revelation. Dozens of children of all ages participated in their various disciplines with their coaches. Maeva, in her ski pants, T-shirt, and a flowing layered meringue skirt, went about her instructions as she saw fit!

Soccer practice was a bit more challenging that day, but her parents are determined to succeed, and soon she had two coaches: her dad and the official coach.

Both learned lessons in patience and “letting go!” A visit to the neighbourhood park proved much more successful.

Miss Maeva is bright as a button, has the memory of an elephant, she's strong-willed, determined, fun and funny. Lenni is a peach, chatty, joyfully cute and a match for Maeva.

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In keeping with my policy of not overstaying my welcome, I was invited to spend a few days with Jaco and Erin.

One would think life in a home with two adults and a dog, a cat and a nest of kittens would be a peaceful breeze. Not here. These two had more hay on their forks than I thought.

Erin works in shifts; Jaco is a website designer with many side projects/hustles; they foster cats and dogs, and are in the process of renovating an old house they recently bought that requires a lot of TLC.

They exercise, run miles, attend family affairs, build Apps (a thing now) and are fabulous hosts with an open door to all the nephews and nieces who need a little attention from Funcle and Fab Aunt Ernie. (Erin loves yellow, the pictures below remind me of her sunny disposition!)

The amazing thing about them is that they never seem stressed or overwhelmed; during my stay, I felt totally absorbed by them, with all their attention focused on making it feel like a holiday.

Isla came over for a sleepover. We went book hunting on our walks. There was plenty of time to be entertained by the kittens who were becoming independent from their Mum and had their sharp claws and teeth out for a good climb or nibble.

The free or exchange libraries set up by homeowners is a brilliant idea and one I'd really like to adopt at home. We found them irresistible and often returned home with a book or two tucked under our arms.

Sometimes Erin and I went for long walks around the Wascana Lake and Park, and at other times I would accompany Jaco while he ran. I couldn’t keep up, of course, but he’d see me on his rounds.

His comment when he saw me was that “he felt normal again to see me unexpectedly as he rounded a corner and saw me sitting on a bench!” I had just taken the last bite of my ice cream cone while enjoying the deep shade of a magnificent plane tree.

While sitting there enjoying the silence, the notice below caught my eye, and whenever I see a similar notice, I wonder why it's still necessary to remind dog walkers. One would think we all know that. Like washing hands after using the facilities. A let's shake the head and tut-tut moment (Am I becoming an old lady?)

That happened on the day of the Dragon Boat racing—an annual event on the Wascana Lake. To make up some time, I circumnavigated the lake a few times before the festivities started. No one seemed sure of the set-off time. A little bit of Africa-time had crept into the starter's gun.

The Regina Dragon Boat Festival is a lively celebration of culture and community. The event is held at Wascana Park and features a variety of activities, including dragon performances, several vendors setting up food stalls, and a beer garden. It aims to bring together paddlers, residents, and visitors. It is a must-attend for those interested in community and cultural festivals.

During the summer months, golf is a favourite pastime, and my sons are keen golfers. Jaco invited me to walk with him on a short course accompanied by Erin’s nephew and brother, who is a very good golfer.

Jaco had a trick up his sleeve and would be testing his Bluetooth-enabled golf ball. The signals are for ball location (which doesn’t say much about his confidence in his drives). The trick wasn't trying to locate his ball, but finding the Bluetooth signal!

Many of our walks were to do a recce at the new house, situated in a heritage district of the city. A quaint house with lots of character, which I’m sure will be a showstopper once all the work is completed.

The house, built at the turn of the 20th century and later redecorated in the 60s or 70s, featured wallpaper typical of the period. I had to explain to Isla that these colourful designs were popular fifty years ago (though that might be a stretch of the imagination), two decades after I was born, I omitted to tell her.

Homeowners are all very keen to brighten up their gardens in celebration of their short summer. The lawns are bright green carpeted by the famous Canada Green Lawn (I tried it in my garden once), a fast-growing grass.

The style of architecture in this neighbourhood was a traditional European "gingerbread house", and many were painted in bright colours, great during the winter months when everything is bleak and cold, a splash of colour is an invigorating shot of Vit D, and during the summer these homes came alive and enhanced the colourful gardens and sidewalks.

Not only are gardeners keen to brighten up their yards, but they’d also even do it for neighbours who live abroad. These gardens would eventually become communal gardens where everyone is invited to enjoy the beauty. This particular garden was a South African Doctor's pride and joy. We could see why.

Every garden, it seems, has a crab apple tree, a miniature apple with beautiful pink cheeks. Isla and Maeva picked a bushel and set about preparing dinner for their dolls using this delightfully fragrant, apple-like fruit. Carla makes her delicious apple jelly using them.

Jaco and I walked the city’s lesser-known streets. He was on a mission to make a short film for one of the Caribbean restaurants in the downtown area, and I had the opportunity to peruse the very colourful Ukrainian Co-Op, where almost everything stocked is from Ukraine. I also spotted a few seasoning products from Cape Herb Company in Cape Town, and some very unappealing, dodgy-looking Boerewors.

The colourful wall art was fascinating, another example of living in a thanklessly cold, wet and grey environment, I suppose. You brighten it up. One also forgets that the pristine Christmas card picture we have of virgin snow is not the reality. Once the snow melts, the sludge is pretty dirty, and walls, windows and doors get splattered with a salty, grimy mud. Not pretty at all.

In a multicultural city where 99% of the population is immigrants, it is heartwarming to see and experience the richness of different cultures. We stopped for lunch at one of Jaco’s favourite South East Asian restaurants. My future seemed rosie the note in the fortune cookie predicted. Jaco was dramatic.

Back at the Jamaican Restaurant, the special for the day was an oxtail casserole, and the regular clientele were taking their seats. The movie was done and put to bed, and we were off to lunch ourselves.

We took a slow stroll home, wandering through parks and historic remembrance gardens.

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Turning forty is quite a milestone, especially when one is still a boy in one’s mother’s heart.

And so Joe, surrounded by his girls, his family and friends, turned forty, far too soon and far too quickly; it was a reason to celebrate. Emily went to great lengths to brighten the day with balloons and other suitable birthday decorations, which we hung and tied to the apple tree.

His neighbours, friends, and family all arrived dressed to the nines in their “golfing” attire to honour the theme and celebrate.

Snacks and canapés were served, and the pièce de résistance—slow-cooked (they call it hot smoke) beef, or something similar—was presented with great fanfare. Guests stayed until well into the night, and we all agreed it was a fabulous day enjoyed by everyone.

At times like these, the girls get their lipstick on, the boys pull up their socks, puff out their chests, and we pose for the obligatory family photograph. I love the addition of our extended, blended family, and I treasure my photographs. Maeva’s hug wins 1st prize; it was heartfelt. Thanks, Carla, with the Canon.

And then there were two days until my departure. I spent one night and two days with Isla and Lise. Just thinking about those precious moments makes my heart clench, and I honestly don’t know whether I can do it all again. The pain is excruciating, and I often think I can’t survive these separations.

Fortunately, I didn’t think of this at the time, and I must confess we had a ball. We went for pedicures at the “Chop-shop”, as manicure salons are colloquially referred to.

While I walked around their local park, Isla pedalled ahead on her bicycle. The next morning, we ventured further afield to their local strip mall, where she enjoyed a few hours at Chuck E. Cheese. At this games centre, children of all ages indulge in various forms of entertainment.

Isla was in charge of our itinerary, and lunch was at Kentucky Chicken, where she scoffed two portions of chicken nuggets. Her favourite, she proclaimed breathlessly.

With her leading the way home, we arrived in the nick of time to join Lise on her weekly run at Pilot Butte, “because they have a hill.” For hill training.

Up and down the “hill” (smaller than a koppie), the runners went training before setting off to do a 10km run.

Pilot Butte, I read on the inscription, while Isla clambered to the top of the plinth, where I was standing, “is known as Butte Hill. It is a small, eroded mesa which stands about 23m above the surrounding town of Pilot Butte, which itself is about 23m above the Regina city area to the west.

This area was first settled in 1882, but the Butte itself served as a vantage point long before then. Therefore, in 1883, the name “Pilot Butte” was chosen, meaning “lookout point.”

The settlement was incorporated as a village in 1913 and attained town status in 1979. The town was thriving, with a population of 1,300 at the time of inscription.

After the girls’ cold dunking, we set off home for supper. Lise prepared the most delicious Mexican fare.

It was time for me to pack. Lenni kept me company with a running commentary of what should or shouldn't go. She was right, my luggage was hopelessly overweight.

Joe, Emily, Maeva and Lenni, I've saved these few lines for last. I am busy editing the blog before publishing it. How do I say thank you? I can't. I don’t have enough words to express my gratitude for your generosity, kindness, and love. I loved being with you. Thank you for allowing me to use your home as a base, which grounded me. You are the glue that keeps my family in Canada together, and a million thank yous will never be enough. When you're as independent as we are, it's not always easy to let go and trust, but you make that possible. I can now let go. The countdown has begun. In just five sleeps, you'll be here. We can't wait to have you and look forward to showing the Weekes’ our piece of Africa.

---oOo---

At the airport, we made happy faces for photographs. You never know.

I remind myself that when the mist lifts, the sun always shines.

---oOo---

When I showed my green mamba to the man at the turnstile, who checks one’s hand luggage, one of the immigration officers approached me and asked if I was from South Africa. Of course, I thought, here we go.

Turns out she’s from Cape Town and lived in Tamboerskloof with her Canadian husband and little girl. They decided to immigrate to “give her child a better future.”

I hope her daughter will appreciate the sacrifices her mother has made for her future. I hope she thrives, reaches for the stars, and excels at everything she does.

I went through the X-Rays, and she came rushing over to hug me, wiping away my tears just as I did for her. Her heart will always be African, she says, and if she could, she’d board the next plane back to her mountain to look at the ocean.

There are times when the longing is suffocating, she said; the whiteness of winter overwhelms her. She dreams of her Motherland, knowing she might never return there, where she has a history, her people (my mense), her culture, and her voice. I had to tear myself away; we were both heartbroken for so many reasons.

---oOo---

On the plane, I thought of my pocket of seven children and five grandchildren in Canada; they are all accomplished at what they do, passionate, funny, smart, down-to-earth, creative, and resilient. They manage their struggles, rarely complain, and think of the future with fervour and hope.

It was harder than anything imaginable to raise four children, but I wouldn’t trade the privilege for the world. They have always been curious and full of dreams, and their greatest accomplishment is the next generation they hold in their arms.

Whenever I leave Canada, my heart shatters into a million little pieces, but I can say this: “My dreams aren’t for my children to make me proud. It’s for them to make themselves proud in rooms I’ll never enter, doing things I never dared to try, with voices that never flinch.”

---oOo---

Waiting for me at home was my beloved Butch and another clutch of kids and grandkids. Two are adults now and busy with their own lives, but Liam, oh my word, we have something special going on and no sooner was I unpacked than we were off to discover a world of insects, snakes and spiders. With him, I’ll be travelling the world, he says. He was furious, disappointed, and heartbroken when he heard I hadn’t taken him with me to Canada, where we were supposed to travel by train through the snow. Anna said. Fortunately, I could tell him it was summer, and there was no snow.