I am going to post some reminiscences by thePresbyterian minister of the last few years in my adopted home of Grand River, which he had printed in a church distributed little booklet called
Stirring The Porridge Newsletter
A cuir mu'n cuairt a bhrochan - thall's a bhog' Stirring the porridge here and there
of The Framboise, Grand River & Loch Lomond Presbyterian Pastoral Charge. Although I am not a Presbyterian I have attended various functions (weddings, funerals, musical presentations etc) there and found Rev Murdock to be one of the nicer persons that I have ever met. To my great appreciation he included me in the mailings of the newsletter with its newsy contact of the doings of the local area. His pleasant recollections mirrored somewhat those of my own youth in a different land and climate - perhaps they too might be of interest to you gentle reader.
Eventually the full articles will be accessible as one continuous read through the right side bar index.
MEMORIES OF HORSES AND
MORE
Murdock MacRae
This
is the first of a two part article, which the author hopes will rekindle many
pleasant memories of similar events in the lives of our readers. Part 2 will be
included in the next issue of this newsletter.
PART 1
Our Home On the
Hill
Whoever made the claim that a dog is a man’s best friend
could not have been closely familiar with horses. I have been.
My earliest recollections of life hold treasured memories of living on a
fifty-acre farm in Cape Breton. The home
of my parents, grandparents and great grandparents graced a beautiful rural
setting in a place known as North River Bridge, in Victoria County. A winding river divided our community in two.
A two span iron bridge linked both together. The community of my youth included
two churches, a two-room school, and two stores, one which held the post
office, a community hall and many modest farms.
Flanked by gentle hills on both sides, the river was a focal point in
the lives of its residents, most of whom were of Scottish descent. Beginning
near the bridge three roads reached out into the surrounding areas. These were
in addition to the main road, the Cabot Trail, which linked our community,
eastward to the North Shore, Smokey and Ingonish, and westward towards Baddeck
and worlds beyond. From both sides of
the river small well-kept farms flung themselves away from the river banks
reaching back into the dark tree-clad forests. Some of the farms on the east
side were nestled along the bottom slope of a mountain range. On west side of a long hilly range our home
was located allowing us the view of at least six farms across the river as well as several farms on the west side and a
along considerable stretch of the main
highway that passed through our community. On our side we enjoyed the first
rays of sunshine that later flooded the whole valley. We also had the last snows of winter clinging
to our fields and forests. We were privileged
to observe and enjoy much of rural life from our elevated place.
One delightful memory that remains vivid in my mind is that
of watching neighbours mowing hay on the other side of the river about half a
mile from our home as the crow flies. One could hear the sound of the mower and
watch as horse and driver moved back and forth along the fields of brown top
and timothy hay sprinkled in places with generous splashes of daisies. When the horse with its mower and driver
stopped one continued hearing the sound of the mower for a brief time. Early in life we learned that light travels
faster than sound, though at first we likely had no understanding as to why a
motionless mower continued to produce noise.
