Covid-19, Border Collies and Badlands 

Writing is difficult at the best of times, though I can't recall any best of times recently.

There have been moments, of course, but I was always too busy enjoying those fleeting bursts of wonder to write about them, and when it came time to do what I've done for more than half my life, things got ... in the way.

The past year has been particularly tough, what with a financial crisis, bouts of depression and, most recently, my knee replacement. Still, I've managed to write two blogs in 2020, both chronicling my surgery and my impending move from Oshawa to horse country in King City, where the fresh air and a re-connection to nature were supposed to re-discover the spark that has been missing in my life.

Things are never so simple for me, of course, and I'm now ensconced in my parent's basement in north Toronto while waiting for the property to become available. End of next week is the latest deadline, though my brother is doing the negotiating and while I love him dearly, his word hasn't always been his bond.

So I wait in my childhood home, helping Dad get the basement cleaned out (except for my stuff) and prepped for the day when he sells the house and brings Mom to join us on the King City property.

That's the plan, anyway, but as we're not actually on the farm as I write this, the whole deal could still go south and that would truly suck for all of us.

I'm on EI as I rehab from the surgery so I have plenty of time on my hands, so I made an attempt to write about my Kingston BeerFam weekend and even got a few paragraphs in, but I found it hard to write about a glorious time with friends when Covid-19 officially became a pandemic and swept the globe, canceling almost everything in its wake and sending panicked citizens into local stores to stockpile toilet paper, of all things.

The Coronavirus, or Covid-19

From television newscasts to social media, the impact the virus now has on the global community is immeasurable, and we are told daily about school and business closures; reminded about the importance of hand-washing and taught new phrases, such as self-isolation and social distancing.

Not to mention the importance of being kind. I could stand to hear more about that.

So I worry.

At 60, I suppose I am considered somewhat vulnerable, but I ate enough dirt as a child to build up a pretty good immune system, so I don't worry about myself at all, really. But my parents - both 87 - are a different story. Dad is still strong and as he takes all the necessary precautions I am not terribly concerned about him. But Mom, who suffers from Alzheimer's, is rather frail and most definitely immunocompromised and I'd be lying if I didn't worry about her catching the virus.

So I do all the right things and we basically self-isolate and watch wall-to-wall Covid-19 coverage until we are desperate for something less depressing. Dad turns to BBC documentaries and murder mysteries and I go downstairs to my laptop and see social media posts about hoarding toilet paper before turning to Netflix for salvation.

Any escape is short-lived as my attention span is down to about 15 minutes so when I woke up Saturday morning I decided I needed to get the hell out of the house. Maybe go for a drive; maybe take a spin up to King City and see this mysterious property myself.

Hitting up a new brewery could be in the cards as well, and when I found Badlands Brewery on the map, I knew I struck gold. I had been hearing great things about Badlands - which is open just five hours a week, adding to the mystique - but the best part was this farm brewery in Caledon was off King Road, the very road (albeit 40 minutes to the east) that takes me to the King City estate.

The Badlands bottle shop

It was an easy 35-minute drive from home up the 410 and at 11:45 - fifteen minutes before opening - I found myself joining a line of cars parked on the side of Chinguacousy Road. It was one of those blustery days A.A. Milne used to write about and I was among the first handful of people in line for the bottle shop, which is just a shed that has only a few cows for company the other six days of the week.

And Nelly too. The resident farm dog, Nelly is a Border Collie who quickly adopted me as we waited for the noon opening bell, coming in for a quick scritch before returning with a ball and daring me to take it from her.

Now I am not inexperienced at this game and I know all the tricks; from lifting the dog off her front legs to the gentle but firm neck twist method. But I was losing this battle and after more than five minutes of struggle I admitted defeat and Nelly ran off with her prize to see if anyone else was worthy.

My fellow linemates had some fun with the battle and that's when I found out the people lined up on this windy Saturday were here every weekend like it was a secret club. Most people seemed to know each other and greeted each new addition to the line - it had stretched to more than two dozen by the time noon rolled around - like old friends.

Two minutes later my old friend Nelly returned, having failed to find a worthy opponent, ready for round two.

So the battle resumed, only this time I managed to wrestle the ball away from her after a short struggle. I know she let me win.

Delicious Badlands beer

Ten minutes later I was up at the window ordering two of everything, including a couple of Provocative IPAs, a beer that was leftover from the previous weekend, and that's what I ordered when I entered the tap room, which is an old bus parked on the grass in front of one of the barns.

Damn! That beer was dynamite! So good I ordered a second 12-oz cup, which was about the same time the bus started filling up, making the social distance thing I was attempting difficult to pull off. So I finished my beer - so good - and headed back to my car, confident in the notion (provided the virus doesn't shut down EVERYTHING next week) that I would be back.

Maybe I'll even join the secret club.

Forty minutes later I was seeing the King City farm for the first time; which wasn't a farm at all but a group of houses and a fancy-pants stables - all surrounded by an enclave of multi-million dollar estate homes. There were still For Sale signs around the property - which was not as surprising as you'd think - and a No Trespassing sign at the entrance, which was partially blocked by a half-open gate.

I ignored the sign and drove through the grounds, taking a close look at the house I am supposed to live in and even stopping to peek through the window at the stables. The property was deserted. No cars. No people. I have no idea what that means, though I heard from Dad when I returned home there are still some legal obstacles before my brother can take occupancy.

That is nothing new and if you know my brother, not a shocker either.

Fingers crossed, I guess.

***

I was out on a shopping expedition yesterday - toilet paper and kleenex were on the list - and I was curious to see what it was like in the stores. The last time I went out shopping was before people went bat-shit crazy and I found the customers civil, if a bit nervous about being in close proximity to other humans.

I struck out at Blue Sky (except for some shrimp), found kleenex at No Frills and was in the line at Dollarama - no toilet paper to be found - when a woman came into the store, bypassing the line and going straight to one of the check-out girls.

She was very obviously suffering from an intellectual disability and appeared to be asking for surgical masks and got agitated when she was told there were none and was asked to leave. The young lady at the till then called for the next customer - which was me - and then waved her arms helplessly when the woman screamed that she needed masks.

The other staffer told her there would be more tomorrow, which only prompted the woman to scream again.

So I very gently told her the masks would be in tomorrow.

She quieted down and looked at me for the first time.

"They'll be in tomorrow," I said softly.

She nodded at me and left the store and we all went back to our business.

Whatever you do out there, be kind. Always be kind

Peace.