The Harrowsmith connection

There is a magic about this place. I consider it blessed or sacred land. There is a type of rain for which I had no name. It is a step beyond a “Scottish Mist”. I call it invisible rain. I can sometimes perceive it in the distance, but neither see nor feel a drop on my skin. And yet, everything suddenly gets wet. Every evening before the sun sets, dew settles on the lawn and does not dry until late next morning.

There is a North American native expression: “We do not own the land. The land owns us”. I have always believed that. Both my parents are immigrants to Canada, but I was born here. This country, this land, I am of it. It owns me.

Never have I lived in a home with such a rich and well-documented history. And never would I have imagined that I would be settling into what was once the editorial headquarters for Harrowsmith Magazine! And yet here I am, typing this article, in that same barn office you see in the photos.