Nestled as I am in this corner of a prairie life it’s easy to see agriculture through my own rose coloured glasses. I am quite content with the view. I am quite content with my perspective and my passion that agriculture be about land and animals, not about production units and factories.
So it comes as a shock to me that during meeting consultations with various agriculture stakeholders and reps from our provincial ministry of agriculture, that using the S-word is akin to speaking way out of line. What is the S-word? Sustainable.
It comes as a shock to me that in a room of agriculture ‘specialists’, for lack of a better word, it seemed I was the only one to consider the notion that we might be sustainable, or consider the environment as we move forward in planning.
It also came as a shock, although a very different and satisfying kind of shock, that regardless of how small I felt in that room full of ‘specialist’s yesterday, this time I spoke up. And when the feedlot fellow next to me looked as though he might like to jab me with his dessert fork because I used the S-word, I didn’t shy away.
What I haven’t figured out is where to put the energy and over running frustration when I leave the meeting. Or what to do with the plethora of thoughts that are filling my head for a full day afterward.
This afternoon I worked the stock dogs, which definitely pulled my head out of the political cloud for awhile. Tonight I fed the guardian dogs, gave Oakley a long scratch on the chest and watched the sheep meander in from grazing and settle themselves for a winter night. Tomorrow I’m at another meeting, but expect this one to be rather easy going. After that I shall be planted at home for awhile, with time and space to sort and shift this brewing energy.