Backseat Adventure - Bowden Sunmaze

Hot summer Saturdays are made for running through fields.  As long as you don't have any real work to do, of course, other than chasing toddlers through sunflowers. This past weekend we took friends of ours out to the Bowden Sunmaze.

Good city folks who don't have much in the way of a yard and whose outdoor experiences focus on hiking and fishing they oohed and ahed at the countryside North of Calgary.  They showed their kids how corns grows (after some considerable debate by us parents on the purpose of the grassy/flowery part on the top of the stalk), we tested raw sunflower seeds, ran through the fields, pet the donkeys, and had a picnic.  And all this a mere hour away from the city.

The Bowden Sunmaze is owned by Eagle Creek Farms.  Part of the Innisfail Growers they produce a variety of vegetables to sell at various Alberta Farmers Markets. You can also come to the Sunmaze and U-Pick vegetables and flowers.  They have potatoes, onions, beans, chard, kohlrabi, turnips, carrots, lillies, zinnias, grasses, and so much more. And don't forget the garlic, Farmer John's speciality.

Of course, U-Pick is great, if you have the energy after tearing around after 4 little ones through both the sunflower and two corn mazes. Sadly, we did not. But we did get some fresh garlic in the store and visiting John at the Calgary Farmers' Market the next day. But The Monster has been asking about the donkeys and the sunflowers so a return trip might be necessary in the coming week.
The Sunmaze is a perfect example of agro-tourism.  If you build it they will come.  Families and tourists come for the maze, and leave with arms laden with veggies and flowers.  This includes the carloads of Chinese tourists there the day we went and the numerous families chasing each other through the maze.  And hopefully those people will start visiting the market if they don't already just because they remembered that the Eagle Creek folks would be there.

The set-up is wonderful.  Beyond the flush toilets for the city folks, there is a defined picnic area complete with tables, and all surrounded by a menagerie of animals to entertain the little ones. There is nothing gimmicky - unless you count the mazes themselves - to bring people in. There are no bouncy castles, animal races, or balloons - all irrelevant on the farm but popular for bringing in families.

All our kids were terribly excited to watch the lambs and calves, try to pet the donkeys, and risk a peck in order to have the chickens take a piece of grass from their hands.  Sure, it isn't the down and dirty of real farm work, but I think these are all valuable experiences for them. Like I said, next time we'll take them in the fields. And The Monster already understands that that calf will grow up to be her steak. She still says moo when calling it, but in the next breath she'll ask which cow we're having for dinner.

As our afternoon wound down and the kids started demanding their naps we took one last wander through the property, with me itemizing the U-Pick opportunities that would be easy for kids (onions and beans), we all commented on the luxury of the experience.  Even our box-store grocery shopping friends took the time to explain some food production to their kids (and each other).  We remarked at how easy it is to have an experience like this so close to the city.  And we left with some fresh garlic. Some very strong, make any Ukrainian or Italian proud garlic.

Backseat Adventure - City Market Edmonton

Hubby and I missed the whole loft train.  For awhile we referred to our flooded and unfinished basement as a "New York Open Concept Loft-Style Basement".  Had we eschewed getting a dog I think we may have found ourselves one of the original warehouse conversions in downtown Edmonton. Okay, I would have fought for it and he would have defended his manly right to a lawn.

Back then downtown Edmonton was a place that positively died after 5 pm.  Other than a handful of restaurants, a mediocre casino, and lots of offices filled with hard-working lawyers there wasn't much going on.  And what little was happening was the sort of activity that most of us don't want to see. No matter how cool the space I never would have convinced him to move there. I still don't think I could convince him - even without kids and dogs and the new lawn - but the City Market could possibly be tipping point. 

Downtown Edmonton now is certainly not the place I wanted to move to 10 years ago, and not even close to the place it was 6 years ago when we left the city.  Damn, it is a vibrant place! There are phenomenal restaurants that actually serve more than lunch, lofts and condos sprouting up everywhere, and retail stores that sell gorgeous, trendy, and expensive stuff. There's even a grocery store.  Not a corner store, but an actual grocery store right in the core.

The City Market, however, is an homage to the old nature of a farmers' market - bringing produce to the urban markets. Located just off Jasper Ave, on a street filled with refreshed and new buildings, the City Market brings over 60 vendors - both food and craft - to the new denizens of downtown Edmonton. it also brings people tired of the crowds, strollers, and popularity of both the Strathcona and St. Albert farmers markets. Plus, they have really cool traditions.

My sister-in-law and I - kids in tow - hit the market on what was probably the first really good weekend for local produce.  There were carrots, peas, greens, potatoes, herbs, strawberries, scapes, baby beets, and those fabulous sour cherries. We sampled and drooled our way through the stalls.  She's been there before so she pointed out some great crafts (I got a fantastic dress for The Monster) and knew where to get the better deals.  We weren't crowded with our strollers and my nephew flirted his way into the hearts of everyone woman he met.

It was really fantastic to see the area so alive, so vibrant.  As a former Edmontonian I will fully admit to pride in the city, the area, and especially the market.  In fact, the only thing that spoiled my morning was the lady who stole my strawberries.  Seriously, I said quite distinctly and not loudly that I wanted two pints of strawberries to the vendor and this lady pushed her hand through the person next to me and my sister-in-law and practically snatched it out of the vendor's hand. Considering that there were only three pints left and one of them as already in the hands on my sister-in-law I, being a nice person, said nothing and settled for one pint. 

There must also be something special about the atmosphere there.  Immediately after I delivered a huge speech about how Smilosaurus ate everything but raspberries she started grunting, pointing, and rubbing her hands together while I paid for my peaches and raspberries. For those of you not up to speed on baby speak that means "Please, please, pretty please can I have that? NOW!" So I grabbed another pint, we sat on the curb, and promptly ate them all. Yup, there is definitely something special about the place.  

Reminders

This was a weekend of reminders.  Reminders that we have some damn good friends in our lives, reminders that there is indeed such a thing as summer, and reminders of what a farmers market can be.

We've been in Calgary for almost 6 years now, after living in Edmonton for most of my life (university and grad school being the exception).  We've made ourselves a very nice life here, one we have no intention of leaving (are you listening, Grandma and Baba?).  But sometimes it is just necessary to connect with loves from the old life in Edmonton.  Sure, we go up there far more frequently than we would probably like, but we spend all our time driving between family that we never get to spend time with our old friends.  So even though they had to stay in a hotel because of our renovations, some old friends came down for the weekend, just to hang out. 

And hang out we did.  The four kids ran around with hoses and jumped on the beds while my girlfriend and I nursed gin and tonics.  Yes, we are that kind of a mom.  We chatted non-stop and it felt like the days when we used to sit on the porch of our old place and watch the world go by.  Except now the world was full of screaming toddlers instead of drunk university students. So really, not that different.

Yesterday we drove South to Millarville to the farmers' market.  We've been going to the Calgary Farmers' Market so long that I really had forgotten what a true farmers market can be - actual farmers selling from a table in front of an open truck.  It truly was a shock to my system after nearly 6 years at the Currie Barracks.

So much is being said about the Calgary Farmers' Market.  Honestly, I'm staying out of the fray. We do enjoy going there on Sunday mornings, and do buy most of our groceries from there. I talk to the regular vendors that I shop from, catching up on their gossip and getting the latest from the fields. And I'll be honest, we spend a lot of time at the bouncy castle - my kids are the ones hogging it and being so damn cute that all other parents stop to watch (well, that's the way it seems to me).  As I've gone from daughter to student to adult to mom and seen the evolution of my market goings the Calgary Farmers Market seemingly works just fine.

Then I went to Millarville yesterday and my comfort all got blown away.  Seeing those trucks and the dirty hands counting out my change reminded me of all that is good about the market. The direct farm to consumer relationship, the open air, and even the crowds fighting for samples of something new and interesting.  I've been treating our weekly market trips as a good family outing, but also like only a bit more than a trip to a really friendly supermarket.

I've decided that for the rest of the summer I'm going to visit more markets, more parking lots filled with trucks, tables, and farmers.  I'm going to see what we can discover and what new people we can meet.  And I'm taking you along.  

It's summer, let's eat.

Farm in the Family

Yes, that is a cemetery there. The Alvena Cemetary, to be exact. My great uncle passed away last week so we were in Saskatchewan to say goodbye. It was a gathering of your typical giant Ukrainian family - my uncle left 10 children, 24 grandchildren, and currently 28 great grandchildren.  That is nothing to say of the fact that he was one of five kids with families of their own. 

Uncle Bernard was a quiet, strong man.  Humble and hardworking, I always remember him with open arms, a quiet laugh, and the ability to observe and appreciate all that happened around him.  He loved horses, his family, and he loved his farm.  While I was sad that the girls never got to meet the man, I was deeply proud to take them and Hubby to meet his farm.  I can hardly remember him off the farm, even though I saw him at hall parties and wedding receptions.  Uncle Bernard's farm was Uncle Bernard.

 
By the time I was old enough to have strong memories of the place it wasn't always somewhere I wanted to go. But as long as we got to hang out with our cousins, go into the fields, or feed the kittens in the abandoned chicken coop we city kids were happy.  Uncle Bernard was usually working during our visits.  He, or our older cousins, would sometimes take us into the swather or combine if it was harvest.  One time they let me drive the pick-up.  It didn't matter that I couldn't see over the dash, the purpose of our drive was to scare the ducks out of the field.

As we wandered around the old farm, buildings old and unused but the grounds, garden, and yard perpetually neat (this is the cleanest, most organized family farm ever), my brother and I reminisced about our visits there.  And suddenly the whining we did as children - well, me mostly - all went away. Those pathetic moments were replaced with pride in knowing that this farm is part of where we came from. 

While my brother led a number of the kids - his, mine, and some other city cousins - on a tour of the buildings and machinery I followed and admired his knowledge and memories. During the tour The Monster was a non-stop question.  She wanted to know what every building housed, what each machine did, how everything worked, and just what it was all for. 

The farm is a working grain farm - wheat, rye, barley, peas. At one point it was a truly diverse family farm complete with cows, pigs, chickens, crops, and a garden to make any Baba proud. The barns, coops, and sheds are mostly empty now. Their usefulness replaced with metal quonsets and granaries, some heavy duty machinery, and the ever present farm dog, Rex.

The natural curiosity of a three-year old outweighed any potential boredom. While Smilosaurus busied herself with transporting gravel from one spot to another, The Monster followed my brother and learned everything she could about grain farming. 

Boy did she learn!  It is a little over 7 hours of driving to get from Saskatoon to Calgary.  For the portion of it that she was awake our conversation went something like this:

Monster: What's the combine Mama?

Mama: The combine takes the seed off the grass, puts them in the dump truck, and puts the stalks in a line behind.

Monster: And where does the dump truck go?

Mama: To the granary.

Monster: And then what happens?

Mama: The farmer sells the grain and it goes to make things like flour.  And then we bake with the flour.

Monster: Oh. And what about the other combine?

Mama: It's not a combine, it's a swather.  

Monster: What's a swather do?

Mama: It cuts the grass, like a giant lawnmower.  Then the combine comes and picks it up.

And repeat. And repeat.  And repeat.  Over and over again, for about 5 hours.

She finally had her lightbulb moment in the process during a bathroom break.  With Hubby rudely standing in the ditch I picked a stalk of some wild grass/weed/oats.  We now know that she is a visual learner because as soon as I showed her the grass and demonstrated what the combine and the other combine did something clicked.  Suddenly she was explaining the process to us, Grandma, the nanny the next day, her sister, and anyone else she saw, regardless of whether they wanted to hear or not.

We don't need petting zoos and picnics on our farm visits. The connection is already there for her. The connection to family, the connection to the process, and hopefully, the connection to her food. Uncle Bernard lives on in her, and so many more, because the farm - literally, and in knowledge and memories - lives on.

Guess where we'll be going come September?