in 1989 i was driving on a familiar rural highway in broad daylight. i was rounding an easy bend and shocked to see a small town on the right side of the road. theres a sign: st. vincent. a few of the things immediately noticeable were a shop called webster welding, an old fashioned horse drawn water pump for fire fighting, several large poplars with dead tops, and black and white painted rocks along the street that faced the highway. i kept watching in the rear view mirror and it stayed visible. i drive a few miles and there is a gentleman waving at me from beside his car. hes obviously broken down and i pulled over. a quick chat and i learn hes blown a tire and wrecked his rim. he asks if ill drive him back to the town. no problem. in he gets and off we go. the town is not there. its a dusty alberta crossroad. this fellow and i just sat in my truck in silence. i raised an arm and my hair was standing on end. his too. he said all the trees were dead. are we dead? eventually i drove him to a nearby town. he simply got out of the truck and walked away. i remember it like it was yesterday. i could tell you what that town looked like in perfect detail.
Canada