Muenster is not my home town but my home town is just 20 minutes from there, my roots in Canada go right back to there, my dad went to the monastery sponsored high school there, the dearest priest that ever there was on the face of the earth rests in the graveyard there and so gosh darn it all, it's my roots.
I've sent in my paperwork, and hope I get in her Saturday class. Be still my beating heart.
I know that the Harlot has been to some small places, but this is Saskatchewan. Its a different kind of small. Its a different kind of big.
The town is like all small prairie towns, once dominated by the line of elevators, they are now gone the way of the Crow Rate and history. You could tell the size of a town by the number of elevators. But it isn't a prairie town that is the prairies, its the sense of space, the endless open skies. Its the green and the golden, and the way you can see what weather is coming from a hundred miles away. (in truth, IIRC, 12 miles)
The picture above is my cousins farm (he lives on my grandfather's home place) and the farm I grew up on is on the far side of the curve in the small copse of trees. The lake is where I wet my footsies when I was a wee one.
The picture is pretty representative of the way that part of Saskatchewan looks. It might seem to be flat from the air, but it is a rolling parkland. It isn't the grand beauty of the mountains, it isn't the vast lakes and rocky beauty of the shield, it is its own small and quiet beauty, there for those who look, a very Saskatchewan kind of beauty.
No matter how small a place it might be, the Harlot will enjoy her time there. The hearts of the people there dwarf that endless seeming sky.
The other thing about Saskatchewan...no matter where you go, they understand a good beer in the evening, and a good sturdy cup of coffee in the morning.