Note: this was written last year in May for a Toastmasters speech I did.... thought I might share it here...
Today, you are in for a treat! Today you are coming on a trip, a walkabout, a stroll. A mosey through my little patch of heaven. No worries, no need to get up, change your shoes or pack a lunch. Just lean back and close your eyes.
I’m sure it won’t surprise many of you that this divine destination that we’ll be touring is the Fenez Follies Farm. While I may be a tad biased, I have yet to find a place that fills my soul as this 8 acre piece of paradise.
So please be sure you are sitting comfortably and let us begin.
Imagine…. you are traveling down a country road (yes, that’s the crunch of gravel under the wheels, you hear). Fields surround you, some sporting orderly rows of brand new plants (I think those are oats) just emerging from the soil. Others are the rich dark brown of freshly harrowed soil. In the distance you can see farmers frantically seeding with their eyes on the horizons for the rain that you can smell on the wind.
As you go up and over a hill you catch the first glimpse of the farm. A line of poplar trees welcome you, leaves frantically waving you along. A hand carved sign pronounces you have arrived. You turn right and head up the drive, looping around a large willow tree. Meet Grandma Willow. This old soul stands watch over our home, underneath her branches is a picnic table, a tire swing and any number of half finished go-carts the kids have been working on today. In the winter, snow rings her belly providing support for the inevitable fort that is built at her feet. We park in her shade and get out – stretch!
You stand in front our home – an unassuming bungalow – two sides sporting fresh new coats of paint…. those other sides, well that’s this year’s project. The house is surrounded by raised brick gardens sporting lettuce, spinach, herbs and strawberries. This year the lettuce and spinach are planted in circles and swirls - creating a virtual salad vortex that makes your mouth water just looking at it. 
To the east of the house, you can see the vegetable field. Rows upon rows of veggies poke up through black growing plastic interspersed with chicken lanes! Yes, that’s right chicken lanes. Our girls are happiest in the garden in our homemade moveable “chicken tractors” they are able to roam in fresh grass and feed on bugs, all while fertilizing our garden yet not consuming our vegetables.
Around the back of the house, the laundry stoop is typically populated by at least one or two barn cats sunning themselves. Coats glistening in the sunlight. A load of crisp white sheets snap and flap in the wind.
As we come through the sheets, the goats spot us and eagerly run towards us, the babies doing high kicks and back flips as they come. A potpourri of colours, the goats call to us. Their quizzical expressions make you laugh, which makes them call even louder. Prince Humperdink (the smallest of the kids) jumps up on his mothers back and balances there trying to get your attention.
But by then you notice Elton, a black and white mini rooster about the size of a man’s hand is stalking towards you with a determined strut. While he is all flash and little substance, he fixes you with a arrogant stare, throws back his head and crows. You are impressed – he may be small but he is loud. For good measure, Elton crows non-stop until you are either deaf or have moved far enough away that he believes his hens are no longer threatened.
Heading to the weathered barn, you are distracted by noise coming from the other side. Rounding the greenhouse, you are greeted by five large snouts. Bubba and Chunk the matriarchs of the farm, keep the three other younger pigs in line. Upon hearing your steps, they rush the fence hoping you’ve brought the compost pail with you this time. They grumble off like old men muttering under their breath, when they see you are empty handed.
Next door to the pigs, you meet 10 white creatures that can appear both graceful and goofy all at the same time. The geese and ducks honk and waddle around the long grass, completely ignoring you.
As you stand watching them, you feel something wet nuzzle your leg. Tipi, has arrived from her morning adventure hunting frogs around the pond to check you out. No one is allowed to visit the farm without Tipi’s stamp of approval. Part Corgi, she’s an unusual farm dog but don’t tell her that. She takes up the job of tour guide as you walk on.
You step into the barn, breathing deep, you smell the rich, musty smell of cows and horses. Flies buss lazily around in the breeze that runs through the barn. Peeking into the various stalls, you see most are empty – a beautiful day means everyone is outside. Oh, what’s this… tucked in the corner, our young turkeys and layers are scratching through the straw. Still too small to range the garden, their cooing and chirping is like a symphony of sounds unlike anything you have ever heard before.
As you reach the end of the barn and lean your elbows on the half doors, you are greeted by Brutus, our 2000 llb steer who thinks he’s a puppy . Brutus is a curly red haired steer that my son has been raising as this year’s 4-H project. We are training him to be shown at the Carmen Fair in July after which he will be sold.
Peering around Brutus (if you can) you see KK far off in the back pasture. She’s a chocolate brown quarter horse that threatens Tipi for the title of Queen of the farm. Head down she munches on green grass. As you watch, her head comes up and she stares in your direction, almost as if she heard you. A high pitch whinny confirms it as she trots over to the fence. She stands in profile as if posing for a camera.
Reluctantly, you turn away, walking back through the cool, shadowy barn. Stepping out through the side door, you move across a laneway past the hay shed.
Through a green tunnel of trees, the sun reflects off the puddles. White towers of bee boxes stand in the shade of the trees. A faint hum is heard even from a ways off.
Coming out of the trees, you stand by a large pond surrounded by bulrushes swaying in the wind. Redwing blackbirds cling to the brown heads, calling to each other. As you walk, you can see the worn paths of deer coming to drink and to rest.
Heading past the pond you emerge into a large open field waving with waist high grasses. As you stand, you feel as if you are submerged in a green sea, as the wind makes the grass ripple like water. You look up and watch the white clouds drift by, feel the sun on your face….
Welcome, to my little patch of heaven.
