Flowers from the City

Few cars – especially the ones most common in the city – ever travel the roads of northern Alberta. And if they do, odds are they do not belong to nearby residents. Cracked by the cold of prior winters, and not always paved, the roads are suitable for big vehicles only: the trucks, vans, and occasional SUVs. In the summertime, any modest car with only two wheels working would be scared off by the road’s powerful horses. In the winter, they would drift off uncontrollably. Ever so often though, a car manages to toughen the roads. Descendants from the south would make their occasional visits. Others from out-of-town would come to take pictures of themselves against the country scenery.

Fields came between chains of spruce and poplars. Some fields were empty. On others, a few cattle, clustered horses, and scattered hay bales could be seen. There were also many fields of canola. To the locals, for whom the speed limits did not apply, all the canola flowers bled into each other to form yellow seas. The visitors from the south, following the speed limits, could distinguish the little golden buds among the millions of flowers they never saw before. These fields would often serve as backgrounds to their pictures.

The Chevy pick-up rolled passed, only a few kilometers above the speed limit. The young woman was behind the wheel, wearing a black shirt, denim pants, and a smile. The young man in the passenger seat had on a monochrome combination of turtleneck and chinos. As she drove, giving him little glances intermittently, the boy had his head turned to face the window, taking in the sights he was unaccustomed to seeing back home in the city.

“The horses still get you, eh?” she asked rhetorically, admiring his city innocence.

“Yeah. No matter how many times you take me up here, I won’t get used to it. You never had horses, right?”

“No, but our neighbors did. Got to ride them a couple times. I would have rode them more, but I think my dad didn’t want me to get too attached. I named one Lassie in secret.”

“Lassie? That’s a dog’s name.”

“Well, my dog was given another name before I was born and I really liked the dog Lassie.”

“Why couldn’t you call your dog Lassie in secret?”

“Kinda hard for him to go from Puck to Lassie, you know?”

This weekend, they were a couple. Afterwards, the young man, Jeremy, would return to his work as an accountant in the city and the young woman, Rebecca, would continue to help her parents on the farm when they would return from their out of province farmer’s market. The longtime acquaintances were making their way from Grande Prairie and had just passed through High Prairie. Canola populated the majority of the fields at this point.

She found his wide-eyed gaze out the window precious. “Consider yourself lucky. People from down south come all the way up here to just take pictures of themselves in the canola fields.”

“It’s funny. They sort of remind me of marigold flowers, the way they blend into each other. They don’t look so small. I told you right? About my mom and how she loves marigold flowers? When she moved to Edmonton, that’s the first time she ever saw marigolds in a flower shop. They reminded her of home – they looked somewhat like canola to her, but of course fuller and prettier. They were familiar enough to make her still feel at home but new enough to remind her of the city adventure she had embarked on. She worked hard all her life. Now her condo is full of them.” He continued to look outside and she gave him the time to be in his thoughts. “Yup, she always said to work for more than what you’re paid because one day you’ll be paid for more than you work. She’s living proof of that.”

“She definitely brought that over from over here. Looks like she passed it onto you too.”

“Just that or some of the country flare?”

“Oh no, you’re as city as they come. But you’d do alright out here.”

Once they reached her farm in Salt Prairie, she got out of the truck, unlocked the fence, and Jeremy took over the vehicle for the final meters.

It was late when they arrived, and both were more eager to go to bed than hungry. She changed into an oversized shirt and dug out for him pajamas that once fit her father. Despite their fatigue, Rebecca found it necessary to prepare something to eat. She explained to him that it was an old simple dessert recipe that her grandmother had taught her when she was very little. Jeremy watched her as she took out a special kind of cheese from the fridge and put a few spoonfuls of it in two coffee mugs. She then added some cream to both and dropped in some white sugar. Jeremy sat quietly at the table while she busied herself along the counter, gathering the cups and ingredients. Her back was towards him and she never turned to face him during the task she had given herself. She looked alone, making desserts for two. There was not a worry in her mind that he would suddenly leave the kitchen or step outside. He was in her nest, she had him, and now she just wanted to please him with something sweet. Jeremy felt uncomfortable by the love he felt from her in that moment. They had seen each other only a few times before, but those times were far between. Inadvertently, they had gone through many crucial years of their lives together.

When the time in the microwave was up, she took out the two mugs and gave him his with a spoon. He tried the gooey substance much to his displeasure. He called it interesting and unlike anything he ever had, and heaped the rest of it before he could hurt her feelings.

After their weekend together they parted ways and did not reach each other for months. During that time, Jeremy lived his bachelor life as usual in the city, visiting his mother from time to time, and Rebecca kept up with her parents on the farm and increasingly took charge.

As time went by, he thought about Rebecca more often. He began to miss the love she could not help but give him. It was free. Even unreasonable. He hoped she would not be thinking of him as much. And yet a part of him wanted her to. He began to regret not having given her the same love. Distance or not, city or country, the connection and promise between them was there and their future could start as soon as he let it.

His mind was made; his heart was set. He took a week off from work, bought a bouquet of marigold flowers and made his way to Salt Prairie.