Luxury

When I was around ten I spent many happy days living with my aunt and uncle on the family farm where my dad was born in Grey County. There was no well for drinking water so we would go a mile or so up the side of the nearest drumlin where a spring of cold fresh water came bubbling out of the ground and there we would fill a large milk can with the delicious clean water and take it home. I have vivid memories of the taste - after coming in from the fields or mows - and going to the woodshed and using the long handled dipper to dip into the water can and fill a tin cup.

Several years later they did dig a well and finally had running water in the house - right from a tap. To them that was luxury.

All my life I've been privledged to have clear fresh potable water available at the mere flick of a wrist. It's taken for granted. But now I'm starting to feel how I would love to be able to hike a kilometre or so up a hill through the butternut trees, past the little waterfall and stop and look out on the valley and stoop, cup my hands and get a drink of cold fresh spring water as it flowed out of the ground. To me that would be luxury.

Second hand store window, Guelph, September 2009