Time travelling on open roads and stubble.

I like open roads, blue skies, the smell of dirt, the feeling of my boots sinking in the dirt after a rain, the smell of a fresh green growth and the crunch of stubble in the fall. 

I have a penchant for white steeples against the blue sky and the sight of an open field takes my breath away every time.  

My inspiration for the endless sky comes from the rural playgrounds of Saskatchewan. From this place called West Bend, Saskatchewan where I spent my summers as a child with my grandparents, my parents and my brother and sister, I learned to think big.

I remember running through the fields of wheat at harvest, chasing chickens, gathering eggs and playing ship on an old hay wagon that sat in the middle of our farm yard. 

To this day, I can't pick up an egg without remembering my grandmother's directions: "slide your hand under the chicken, palm up, then gently turn your hand and take the egg".  

Sadly, some of us never get to see these places as more people have moved into the cities over the years. West Bend, once a bustling town is now very small in population. Nevertheless, these towns and villages are the patchwork of our history that was borne out of hardship, horizons and freedom.

This hankering for freedom has been with me as long as I can remember, which I why I was never very good at jobs that confined me to a desk or a single activity. My work has been about helping business owners, entrepreneurs, founders, corporations and non-profits reach out and touch the future, and write about it so that others could see it too. 

That's why I do strategy. It's all about not only seeing the horizon, but reaching out and touching it. It's about bringing people together to make things happen. It's about asking why, and how. It's about seeing the big picture and making connections and adding new dimensions.  

I would love to plan in an open field.

I do bring the open sky into my planning.  I take my planners into a journey of tomorrow, today.  We stand in the future, and speak about it in the present tense. But we are not dreaming. We are stretching and we are realistic. We talk about the good, the bad and the ugly. The things that work. The things that don't. The things that will be, and what we need to do to make that happen. 

Not only is it an exciting way to move forward, it is the only way to move forward.

My next adventure is to explore the world of community based planning and economic development to work with cities, towns and community based businesses  to find their new horizons.

Gone are the days of secret strategy sessions and closed door meetings.  These days, people are engaged in the decisions that our elected officials and business leaders make.  We want to understand how they got there, why, who was consulted, what they thought and why, what were the options, what was chosen and why.

This is apparent in the stadium announcement at Saturday's Saskatchewan Roughrider Game where we heard we will have a new stadium in Regina by 2017.  Of course we cheered. We love the Saskatchewan Roughriders and we love to watch them play. In fact, most of Canada loves them, so share the love. But getting there was tough slugging. I think our politicians and bureaucrats heard the message loud and clear.

But community based planning is not just for the stadiums and football teams. Community based planning is about creating viable futures that are socially, environmentally and economically responsible and sound.

Strategy is a conversation to be had with the people who have a stake in the future, so it's not meant to hide in a board room. Nor is the point to produce a document that never sees the light of day.

This is about inspiration. Engagement. Possibility. Performance. Alignment. Clarity.  Strategy is an exciting conversation for real people, who really care about the future, and who want to be part of making it happen.  

I am so lucky.  I get to help make those conversations happen. There is nothing like seeing the light of possibility shine when we open our eyes to it and dare to time travel over the open roads and stubble into tomorrow. 

The long and winding road

I don't usually write about politics, or even talk about politics. But I feel inclined to say for the first time in my life, I am inspired to believe in the future of Saskatchewan.

Tonight the Saskatchewan Party was elected with a majority government, under the leadership of Brad Wall.

I do not know Mr. Wall, but he seems to be a home grown kind of guy, with good intentions. But more importantly, Mr. Wall has the ability to lead, and make things happen. He has the ability to inspire followers and engage non-believers. To inspire someone like me to believe in the future of Saskatchewan.

Tonight, he recounted the successes of the past 4 years, and the promises kept, all which are valid. We are experiencing the benefits of a prosperous mining sector, and an open door policy for business. We have grown as a province and an economy. As Mr. Wall says, there is yet more work to do.

It is important to remember that the road to change is  a long and winding road, paved with economic evolution, hard decisions and changes that spanned the 80's, 90's, and the new millennium.

Our family's hometown, Westbend, was the town closest to my grandparent's farm community. In its day, it was a thriving little town with a co-op store, a gas station, and a post office.

Since then, Westbend has slowly but surely disappeared like so many other towns as a result of changes in the agricultural economy and policies that were implemented, such as branchline relocation and the crow rate. As the agricultural economy became more efficient and centralized, small farming communities lost services and people.

There was an exodus of Saskatchewan people looking for greener pastures in Alberta. We were part of the mass exodus that left Saskatchewan to find a job and life in Alberta.  We found jobs, but not a life. Houses were out of reach and a life of driving 3 hours a day and living in rented houses was not in my plan.

I wanted to study Journalism, so we moved back to Regina with our babies, bought a house, and got an education. In the back of my mind, however, I did not have faith in the province's sustainability, so we always kept one foot elsewhere, metaphorically speaking. 

As a student journalist, writing for the Kindersley Clarion, I remember writing about the massive changes that rural Saskatchewan had undergone as a result of efforts to streamline the agricultural economy.

Incidentally, that was the year the NDP and Mr. Romanow was re-elected with his "Quiet Revolution" plan, which promised a series of changes in 3 years. To be honest, it was not inspiring. It was frightening, hardline change. I attended a conference bullpit session of Saskatchewan delegates where they were told to change, or change would happen to them.

By the time our group of student journalists were able to interview Mr. Romanow, the "paid" media had already written all about his 3-year Quiet Revolution plan.  Mr. Romanow was a master of key messages so there was no unseating this politican.  My audience was waiting for a story that was meaninful to them so I had to get creative.

At the end of the interview session, I asked him for an autograph in my daughter's book. He wrote, "The future is yours Sara." On the same page, was her favorite poem: "Fuzzy Wuzzy Wuz a Bear . . ."

I couldn't resist the irony and the temptation to include the poem and his best wishes for Sara's future in a story about the difficulties rural Saskatchewan was facing. (A tiny moment of journalistic satisfaction)

Change happened. Later I was to write about a school closure in Dinsmore. The empty halls and classrooms still dense with chalk dust reminded me of the impact of change on children, wondering how could they believe in tomorrow when their today was disappearing.

We stayed through the 90's and into the new millennium.  We earned degrees and made sacrifices to ensure that we had meaningful employment to give our kids a good life. My husband, an industrial engineer, worked up north for more than 4 years, coming home only on weekends while I raised teenagers and worked as a corporate planner and writer for large corporations and the credit unions.  

Over the past 4 years, something has changed. Our economy has grown. There is an attitude of possiblity. There is a hope for the future. 

For the first time, I can honestly say that I have confidence in a government, and possibly, a person. I believe him when he says, "We are never going back" to despair and being a have-not province.  I believe him when he says we are moving forward.

This is where my grandparents settled, and broke the land. I can honestly say I never get tired of a sunset or the smell of the air in spring. I marvel at sundogs, despite the fact that a sighting means eminent frigid temperatures. I can't help but get out of my car just to take in the vista of a clear blue sky and a golden field.  

Something has changed. Maybe it's me. Or maybe I am finally home.    

Thinking about Changing.

I grew up in the city of Regina, the home of the RCMP.  My roots are firmly planted on our farm near West Bend, Saskatchewan.  I remember grain elevators that stood tall and proud.  Oceans of mustard, canola and wheat and the smell of fresh baked Cinnamon buns.  West Bend is 6 miles from Foam Lake, Saskatchewan, and 28 miles from Wadena where Pamela Wallin grew up. 

Every summer and special occasions, we would venture out to the farm. Truth be told, I never worked a day of farming in my life. We played pirate ship on my grandfather's hay wagon and ate out of the garden at will. We chased rabbits in the winter and tried to snare us a gopher in the summer. We breathed in the air and ran for miles. I asked important questions, like why don't the cows sink in the mud?  

My grandmother had at the ready freshly baked buns and store bought milk and ice cream. (We didn't like the cow's milk.) We played in the slough, fishing frogs out of the mud by hand.  We slopped the hogs and chased the chickens. I learned to gather chicken eggs for my grandmother without getting my hands pecked.  Here's the tip: palm up, then turn and take the eggs.  

Model Farm:  The Gathering Place still stands today 

Model Farm, was the gathering place for all occasions and it was exotic to me.  This church seemed to have the tallest ceiling in the world, with gold and silver, and intricate paintings.  Mind you, I was 3 feet tall.  






The service was spoken in Ukrainian so I have to admit, I did not understand a word. But I was in awe, none the less. I remember in preparation for Easter Sunday, my grandmother Kate would take a big basket of food to the church to be blessed.  I felt like we were the richest people in the world. I felt sorry for other city kids who didn't have a farm. 

Model Farm, West Bend -
 the tallest ceiling in the world when I was 3. 

Our farm was destroyed by fire in the 70's, so we lost this great legacy.  The children in our family never knew the traditional farm that I grew up with, and even if they had, the definition of farming changed.  Farming is big business now.  Farmers now compete on the global market.  Supply and demand.  

Our farm house used to stand here.  These trees were behind the house.  

West Bend is now a hamlet.  Very few people live there. Model Farm is still there and is still being loved and cared for.  

My daughter Caitlyn visiting Model Farm. 

Once a bustling town, West Bend is on its way to a relic of yesterday. 

While the days back in West Bend are long over, our family roots are there, and so our values. We learned respect for each other and the land.  I love the smell of dirt.  


As mighty pirates on my grandfather's hay wagon, the art of creativity and invention became a part of life. I learned the pioneering spirit of my grandparents.  And yes, I learned to persevere. Sometimes too much. 
  
Rural Saskatchewan has changed with the economy. Farms are larger and industrial. The economy has diversified. Mining is in.  It's not sad. It's just different.  The land has a different meaning and purpose than it did.  




An evolution has occurred in the human experience.  Today, someone asked me, what did we do without the Internet?  I answered, we had a smaller perspective.  And maybe a kinder one.  My perspective was a blue sky and a mohair couch in my grandmother's living room with channel 3 and Ed Sullivan.  

A family photo shoot for Mother's Day in 2010 in a farmer's field.

Although my daughters grew up in the city and have no real memory of a family farm, we have a memory of the land and a memento of the tradition.  Last Mother's Day, my daughters arranged a photo shoot in a farmer's field.  We drove a couch out to the field, a chair, and spent the morning playing.  For that morning, the farm life that I loved as a child came alive again. 


My daughters, now 25 and 22, have grown up in the information age, ruled by cell phones, texting and the world wide web.  I had a red telephone in my room to coordinate with my black and white velvet flocked wall paper. 


 I never felt poor, because my frame of reference was the community in which I lived.  Today's children have access to more products than ever before, all at their finger tips.  Their first house will cost them over $250,000; mine cost $36,000. 


I faced the occasional school ground teasing, and they face cyber bullies who cowardly operate under pseudonyms. Social media has bypassed the power of the conventional media, and politicians now Twitter.  How is anyone supposed to get the whole picture, I wonder?  Do you really feel informed by Twittering politicians? Has Twittering lowered the bar assuming the masses will get the message, or will the message be lost in all the noise?


Change is happening. But what are we changing to.  Do we know the path, or are we just walking it?  What are the values, traditions and conventions that we will hold near and dear, and what will our children's children learn through our actions?   What are we learning by being "on" all day long.  What price have we paid in raising our families this way? What are the ramifications of instantaneous politics?  Do we know where we are going to, and do we know when we will get there. Do we know what we are giving up, and are we OK with that?