With James’ help at times— for was it not he who rocked him so fondly to sleep? We enjoyed a spell of baby-sitting today taking over the care of “Wee Alex” when the rest of the family in the house across the lane must take a trip to town this afternoon. This outing was mainly to meet Granddaughter’s appointment at the dentist’s, though it had its other interesting incidentals besides.

There was, perhaps to be the most important item of all, a pair of sturdy white boots brought home to replaie [sic] those scuffed and worn by the active lad who before long will be making first steps. He creeps smartly, and can now easily draw himself up beside chairs and couches. He can also get himself into awkward places from which a quick rescue must be made!

However perhaps to Mack, a man-size shovel was the most engaging souvenir of the trip, a clean shining thing to be of much assistance to him clearing away any March snow from the verandahs and yardpaths about. Or above all else, contributing as we see it no small share to the wellbeing of farm and family, though in roundabout ways, were not the sacks of “store feed” for the animals, the truck carried home to lane’s end of most moment? Or maybe back of those, we smiled weighing everything, were the farmers’ uniforms of blue denim — the overalls, [illegible] most important items of all?

James in the armchair, stock now bedded for the night, clears his throat, as ignal [sic] that he is about to share with us some pleasing article in the farmpaper he reads. 

“Hear this, Ellen” he says “The heading asks ‘Where Have The Farmers Gone?… Science did a shameful thing, it forced the farmer to become an agriculturist’…

It goes on to say: ‘There used to be farmers, men who worked the soil, raised stock and children, accumulated debts and blamed the government. It is time to shed a tear for the vanishing race.’

“ ‘Today it seems, we have agriculturist, agronomists, country squires and land economists — indeed everything but farmers. Some farms are beginning to look like scientific laboratories, others like sprawling machinery depots, It is all in the name of progress… The march of science has changed the way of rural life.’ ”

“I cant read it all to you, Ellen” James offers. “You’ll have to read it for yourself — it’s real interesting” he nods. “It ends like this: “ ‘Yes, there was a day when a strong man dedicated to the soil and his animals, and unafraidi [sic] of hard work could become a farmer. Today you are almost second rate unless you graduated from an accredited agricultural college. And worst of all your farm has to have electric lights, running water, a flush toilet and television or you are not progressive.’

‘Some farmers are not only living but beginning to look like the gray flannelled suburbanite who catches the 7.45 every morning. Well, why don’t they go whole hog and move into the city? I say there should be a place left in this big country of ours where a man can still wear overalls and chew tobacco!’ “

James looked over his paper when he finished the reading. “And isn’t it the truth, Ellen”.  he chuckled.

And March, the minx, continues to bring farm-folks her quiet or wind-blown gray days.

– Ellen’s Diary, March 14th, 1958

Source: Islandnewspapers.ca