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(p) "We grew up on the lonely hills of the Bench, some twenty miles north of Eastend, Saskatchewan. We were far from any concert hall, and this worried our mother who had developed a love of good music when she grew up in Boston. Although she felt that her children were deprived, perhaps it was this lack of man-made music in our early childhood that made us listen more intently to the music of nature. ... "Perhaps you have to be prairie born to get a spine-tickling thrill from the yodeling call of a coyote on a star studded winter night. Mother was definitely not impressed with the music that accompanied 'weeping time' when Dad separated the calves from the cows. The cows would set up a long mournful dirge while the calves would answer with pitiful bleats. ... "We lived next to a coulee and one sound we all welcomed was that of the spring break-up. One morning I would wake up with a new exciting noise in my ears. As I listened intently to make sure, Dad would shout, 'Get up Snookums, the coulee is running.' I could hardly wait to get out to hear that triumphant roar as the water pummeled the snow, freeing large chunks and tossing (them) up on the shore, then chuckled along its way to the creek." from "Growing Up on the Bench" By Laurine (Avanzino) Milne. Non-fiction memoire. Available in the Eastend area. Booklet 138 pages. p. 53/54 (published local text) |
image © D. Wall
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