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A PLACE WITH A TIN ROOF by Cathy Walker

When I first bought this place, the tin roof on the original shelter was newly painted. Now, weathered and rusted from years of harsh winters and neglect, the roof on the other side has caved in. Seems like a metaphor for life. At one time pristine, but after many years of hardships we are all a little the worse for wear.


I purchased it from a hunter who lived in Sturgeon Falls. He had purchased it from a local on the road behind. The local did as all others did and bought up many adjacent acres over the years when land was cheap, and over the years, as they aged, they had to sell off parcels of land they could no longer look after. My parcel was originally 90 acres, which was probably at one time part of his 440 acres. The 90 acres became divided further into 2 parcels, of which we own 40. Funny thing about buying land when you are from the big city; you buy 40 acres and it seems so big and, sure enough, you get jealous of the folks who own 200 or 400. But now, all those large parcels of acreage are devoured by large companies only to get divided into individual acre lots for cottage country. Hunting camps with Jacuzzi tubs and all the Starlink city money can buy.

The original structure on this property was built by hand by the old farmer who eventually had to move into town into a facility for the aged. No longer able to look after

his livestock or house, his family sold the farm. A lifetime of memories, living on the land, only to end up in a facility with very little freedom and nothing to do.


His story isn't isolated. I have spoken to so many former land, cottage and farm owners, and the once loved land they raised families on, with memories of kids running free, became more of a chore than it was worth as time continued on. Some sold after their place was broken into, some sold because they couldn't walk the land, others found looking after two homes, or the trek back and forth, too much on aging bodies and limited funds.


When I bought this property I was in my late 30s and I had the intention of having a place my autistic kids could run free. But also, as a child who had moved every year, along with an inability to buy a home in the city, I wanted something stable and constant. Some place me and the kids could come to, year after year. But over the years it has become increasingly difficult. It used to take us 3.5 - 4 hours to get here. Now it takes us 5 or 6. Property taxes have doubled and I no longer know the neighbors here. Mind you, I'm not up enough to get to know anyone anyways. Every year I never know if I can afford the low mortgage even though I am living as frugally as I can, yet still I hang on.


Eventually I too will become too old and frail to be on this land and that will be a very sad day. Already with my condition, I can't walk the rough terrain, and harvesting is becoming harder and harder, and I am only 57. But every year I hang on anyways, because to me it's home, the one place I can leave to my kids and hopefully they can find solace here as well. Or maybe it will become too much for them and they will sell it to some large company willing to divide it up into further acres. Carving up this natural property until it is no longer recognizable.


But for now, I hear the crows cawing, feel the sun shining on my skin and I breathe my last few breaths of fresh air before we pack up the truck and leave. On my way home we'll go for a quick swim in a river and travel through small francophone towns. Whatever happens in the future, is far enough away, but the reminders are there, right in front of me, that the future isn't that far off. But today ....today we feast.

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