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June 17, 2026 • BY By Lynn Strom

The Far Edges

What my father watched for, I now watch for too.

The Far Edges

Photo by Lisa Knapik

In the early mornings year ‘round, my dad would sit at our farmhouse kitchen table, savouring his cup of coffee before heading out to do chores and fieldwork.

His gaze seemed to be always on the horizon. When he took a break from outside work, it was the same, looking around in all directions, gazing at the far away hazy edges of land and sky coming together.

Years passed, and then it was me sitting at the table, savouring my cup of coffee, eyes fixed intently out the same window, as I contemplated the needs of the day ahead.

Whether we are working, riding, or walking this land, we prairie folk tend to stop to contemplate the far edges of our world. The space and the vastness almost demand it.

It is a gift and a blessing to be a part of something so big, to be connected to this huge land and sky, from the spot where we plant our feet, all the way to the far edges.
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This story first appeared in The Love Volume.

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The Far Edges

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