Last weekend I drove the eight hours from Lethbridge to Saskatoon; a flat and long road connecting wheat elevators to sloughs to cow pastures to giant sky. When I was younger, I spent the part of most summers in Saskatoon, visiting the river valley, the Mendel Art Gallery, Beaver Creek, and Wanuskewin. Revisiting was energizing; we wandered around the First Nations heritage park, pausing to say hello to stones that my 10-year-old self listened for bison hoofs within:
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