The Badlands

I must have been around three.

Or perhaps four.

At any rate, it was an age when memories start to stick and experiences shape the person you will eventually become. I was in my maternal grandparent’s basement. My mom was deep in conversation au Francais with my grandmother and I tried to distract myself by exploring the space as I waited for them to finish. There wasn’t much; an older, multi-unit dwelling, its basement was unfinished for the most part save a washer/dryer and a cracked concrete floor that I remember being cold on my feet. The lack of decor in the basement was actually in stark contrast to the rest of their technicolour home where I distinctly remember a forest green living room, Peptol-Bismol pink bathroom, and baby blue bedroom. Everything was completely colour-coordinated to precision with matching carpet, furniture and accessories.

But there was one thing I found in the basement that caught my attention: a miniature toy dinosaur.

I was riveted. At the time, no one had told me what a dinosaur was. I don’t even think I’d ever seen a picture of one. I took the small toy with me, constructing adventures in my head on the bus ride home about what it was and where it came from. I probably didn’t stop talking about it as my parent’s eventually got me more toys and some books about cretaceous creatures—I even remember my first one purchased at Woolco, which I’ve kept all these years. I’ve been fascinated ever since.

As he always did, my father cultivated my interests by introducing me to one of the best places to learn about dinosaurs in the world: Drumheller, Alberta, home of the badlands and world-renowned Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, which I visited this week … taking me back to those childhood days full of wonder and curiosity.

Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Black Beauty, one of the most perfect skeletons of a tyrannosaurus-rex ever discovered, on display at Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Black Beauty, Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The evolution of the chasmosaurines, Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Diorama of a wooly mammoth being attacked by sabre-toothed tigers, Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Badlands near Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague)

Badlands (©2022, Deborah Clague)

Andrew Farms grain tower, a relic on the prairies (©2022, Deborah Clague)

Your Occasional Monty

High fashion:

1st Annual Corgi Race

Small town entertainment at its finest, in support of the SPCA.

First annual running of the corgis in Martensville, SK (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

First annual running of the corgis in Martensville, SK (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

First annual running of the corgis in Martensville, SK (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

First annual running of the corgis in Martensville, SK (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

First annual running of the corgis in Martensville, SK (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

First annual running of the corgis in Martensville, SK (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Out of Hibernation

Black bear at Prince Albert National Park (©2022, Deborah Clague).

A fork in the road presented itself today. Take the main highway that I was used to or the longer unknown route. It was frigid, rainy—even, at times, snowing—and the roads were pretty deserted. Few were venturing to lake country as the weather was too cold at this latitude north. But I needed a break. I needed to get out of the hibernation in my home and so I was determined, come hell or other unfavourable conditions, to make my way to Prince Albert National Park to relax, breathe in the fresh air and do some forest bathing.

I decided to take the unknown route and was met with two black bears in the span of five minutes. I put my hazard lights on and observed the first one for awhile, wild and free. Hungry after a long winter. And perhaps a bit curious.

As the bear approached my car, I slowly drove away and they followed me for a bit.

Always take the scenic route.

Bear no. 2, Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Waskesiu Lake, Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Wood carving, Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Visitor outside my cabin. About a dozen elk hung out for a bit (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Herd of elk passing through, Prince Albert National Park (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Rocket Man

Sometime in January, I started an Elton John playlist and have been listening to him almost exclusively ever since. There’s something about his timeless music—and Bernie Taupin’s beautiful verse—that is resonating with me right now. A bit of melancholy, a bit of joy, his library of song is just the comfort I need at the “end” of the pandemic (and perhaps start to World War III as Putin continues to Putin). It’s hard to pick a favourite but this will always be near the top. It’s beautiful.

As I continue to learn Procreate, Sir Elton John seemed the perfect, colourful subject to capture in digital ink.

The Life I Once Knew

We walked down St. Mary’s Road. It was Autumn and the trees were slowly changing to a gold-tinted colour palette, leaves languidly falling and crunching on the ground beneath our feet. I pointed out a familiar apartment. It belonged to a former boss, Ed, a small business owner that carved out a niche in the Winnipeg advertising community with his partner Richard. They were two of the most honest, down-to-earth individuals I had ever had the privilege of knowing and collaborating with in my life. Looking up at the residence, nostalgia flood my memories. Without their support and encouragement, I never would have started my own business. My father knew this as well and asked if we could stop by and say hello.

I paused, not knowing how to address it with him.

Both Ed and Richard had passed away years ago. But if I told my father this, I would also have to tell him that he did too.

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I woke up from this dream and had to lie in bed, staring at the ceiling for a bit before fully consenting to the day. This isn’t the first time my father has visited me in a dream but it was the first time in a long while. It’s always a bit jarring; the warm comfort of a familiar embrace shattered by the reality that you’ve lost that presence—and that life you once knew—forever. I knew my day would be thrown off kilter as I increasingly searched for meaning during a time in which everlasting sleep seems like a welcome respite.

I feel this dream was a result of the continued, relentless stress and anxiety of the ongoing pandemic. I try to limit overexposure to the news and social media, however, it’s hard to escape the current ripple effects of a society divided. Just in the past week, I’ve born witness firsthand how emboldened certain segments of the population are to freely express their hate and discord. As I ran an errand at a local mall, an angry white man yelled obscenities and told the South Asian taxi drivers parked at front to “go back to your own country”. It is disgusting. It is deplorable. I never thought I would live during a time where this and nazi flags being flown in broad daylight would be acceptable in Canada, where the perceived consequence from one’s personal choice are compared to the rape, pillage and genocide of an entire race of people.

But I suppose it’s always been present.

Just hidden.

Many have said that 9/11 was the defining moment of a generation but that seems so long ago (I actually remember watching it with Richard on the small office TV as it happened). The dual pandemic of COVID-19 and social media, and how different our lives and perspective will be moving forward is well surpassing it with everything from everyday safety protocols to personal relationships forever altered. I feel that I may always long for my previous carefree life. That bitch didn’t know how good she had it.

Meeting my father again in a dream, leaves crunching under our feet as we breathed in the crisp, Autumn air, was the momentary escape I needed. The life I once knew is there … if I close my eyes.