‘Community Presence’: A dinner delayed

Angie Morrison is a yoga/mindfulness practitioner and Port Hope resident who writes a monthly column for the Independent. /Angie Morrison photo

By columnist Angie Morrison

I had just sat down to eat my dinner when my phone pinged and the message read: “I’m done, ready for pickup.”

My son, who worked at a local dairy farm, was finished his evening chores. I sighed to myself as I covered my plate, my stomach grumbling as I begrudgingly got in the car feeling slightly irritated at the disruption.

As I approached Ward 2 – the term often used to refer to the large, rural area of Port Hope – it wasn’t long before the frequency of houses dropped away, giving in to meandering green fields and distant silos.

Arriving to no child in sight, I surrendered to waiting and stepped out of the car. 

Right away, the sweet smells of cows and manure washed over me, permeating the evening air and making the idea of reheated dinner seem quite unimportant. Looking to the west, the fiery sky of orange and pink set the rolling hills aglow with a spectacular sunset and my body began to melt into relaxation. 

My son exited the barn, and I looked at him standing in his mud-covered boots, bits of hay stuck to his body. His strong arms belied his soft heart as he introduced me to the heifers he called “his sweeties.” He ever-so-casually reached out to pat the bull on its giant head, a beast outweighing him several times over.  

As we sauntered down the lane together, he told me of a calf that had been born in the field during the night, and how he’d carried her back to the barn this morning with mama cow following closely, nudging him in the rear and licking at his back. I heard stories of births and deaths, responsibilities and work ethic, enthusiastically told by a 16-year-old receiving an education that extends far outside his school. 

I recognized that my little boy had become a dependable young man, a part of the hard-working farming community so essential for our well-being.

Arriving home with the moon now rising, the fertile farmland soil having soaked up the anxieties of the day, I realized my dinner wasn’t interrupted – it was simply postponed for an “internal service announcement.”

My trip had unexpectedly reminded me of the importance of slowing down and feeling connected – to the land, to the farmers who feed us and to family. And I’ll tell you, my dinner sure tasted delicious that night.

Angie Morrison is a yoga/mindfulness practitioner and Port Hope resident. You can find her wandering through forests and gardens or on Instagram @flow.with.amo.