The Rural Voice, 2003-09, Page 6Carol Riemer
Living in Comeback Countg
Carol Riemer
is a freelance
writer who
lives with her
husband and
two
children near
Grand Valley,
Ontario.
A long, thin line of headlights
carefully winds its way through the
darkened countryside. Passing
quickly, it disappears somewhere
down the road in the soft, red glow of
fading tail lights. It's Sunday night,
and vacationers are heading home,
after another weekend at the cottage.
Some might make the trek
a few more times this season, but
soon, the cottage traffic streaming
past our door will have diminished
dramatically. •
Those long summer days are
slowly beginning to subside. Only
this morning, wisps of wood smoke
gently trailed from our chimney,
lingering high among the tree tops,
before dissipating in the cool, autumn
air. Canada geese could be heard,
noisily practising to make their long
journey south, and my husband, who
was busy splitting wood, looked more
than ready for a break.
"How about a coffee?" I called
out, resting my empty wheelbarrow
against the stone wall.
He carefully put down his splitting
axe, and headed toward the house.
Setting down the coffee and the last
of the apple oatmeal cookies on our
picnic bench, I was startled by a
sudden rustling noise in the leaves.
One of our resident chipmunks was
busy collecting food for the winter.
"Seems we're not the only ones
who are busy this morning," my
husband smiled, trying hard to
restrain his amusement.
He was right. Across the field, I
recognized our neighbours' truck, a
sure sign they would soon be
harvesting their corn. On this cool,
clear morning, a quiet determination
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2 THE RURAL VOICE
to get things done had begun to take
over. Despite their inherent
gentleness, glorious fall days like
these should never be taken for
granted.
With our son busy cutting the lawn
and our daughter raking up the
leaves, we finished our coffee and
went back to work. My husband
returned to his steadily growing
woodpile, and I continued to stack it
carefully in the shed. Every so often,
I'd take a break, stand up straight,
stretch, and stare out at the road.
Sometimes, another trailer would go
by, followed by a boat or a camper.
Then, once again, the road would
become quiet and still.
It was such a strange feeling, after
a busy season of rescuing people who
had become stranded by the side of
the road. Had it not been for the
number of interesting people we have
met over the years, however, I doubt
that our time here would have been
quite as interesting.
Sometimes, long after they're
gone, I think I recognize some of the
people we've helped, coming back to
visit the fall fair, or spending a sunny
afternoon at the farmers' market,
picking up a basket of apples and
stopping to admire the displays of
woodworking, quilts and handcrafted
pottery.
Sometimes, I think I might have
seen them in town, checking out the
antiques, or sampling a piece of
homemade apple pie at a country
tearoom.
Other days, I'm not so sure we'll
ever see them again.
But, as another stream of
headlights silently disappears into the
pitch black night, I know it won't be
long before they come back. The lure
of the country is just too great. The
winter season is bound to bring out
skiers and snowmobilers,
accompanied by their inevitable
snowy search for directions. There
will be those who need some place to
get out of the cold and call for help,
after being stranded in a snow storm.
For weary travellers who are just
passing through, it's a mythical place
called Comeback County. For the rest
of us who live here, it's still a place
we like to call home.0