Terry’s paternal grandparent’s farm is located on Orange Valley Road west of North Seguin, Ontario. Despite the name, there is no microclimate there sufficiently warm to cultivate citrus fruit. It’s just like Dunvegan’s former Orange Lodge; which was not so-named because it had been covered with a coat of my least favourite paint colour. In both these cases, “orange” was the code word used back then to proclaim the region or building was Papist-free. To this day, her family’s Northern Ontario farm is in Pletzer hands. And across the road, on a little tree-shaded bluff overlooking Orange Valley, lies a modest Pletzer Family burial plot. As final resting spots go, it’s not a bad place to lay one’s weary bones.
Perhaps it’s the feeling of peace, solidarity and “place” that a private cemetery can evoke, but there’s something that resonates within me when I come across a family burial plot. It struck me again recently while visiting a farm in Lochiel that the late Peggi Calder and I were researching in support of an upcoming story. The property had remained in the hands of a single family for over 120 years – from November of 1827 when the Crown granted the original patent. To this day, the family’s stamp remains on the land in the form of small family burial plot, just off the side road.
A quick search of the Internet shows that I’m not alone in my interest in being laid to rest under the land I’ve come to consider home. In 2017, Small Farm Canada contributor Shirley Byers explored the topic in an article entitled: “Want to be buried on your farm? Could you? Would you? Should you?” Like so many things in life, even the minutiae of death vary from one province to another. According to Ms. Byers, “The rules and regulations that govern cemeteries are provincially written. Seven out of 10 Canadian provinces say, ‘Yes,’ to on farm burials. Alberta says, ‘No.’ Newfoundland Labrador says, ‘No but…‘ and Quebec says, ‘Oui, but it will not be easy’.” Furthermore, my minimalist research to date suggests there is huge variation in how the provinces falling in the author’s positive column interpret the definition of “yes.”
At the extreme libertarian end of the scale, it would appear that Nova Scotia is the most laissez-faire. There are apparently no restrictions on being buried on your farm or property. For-profit cemeteries are regulated and licensed under the Cemetery and Funeral Services Act. But non-profit ones are exempt. However, it is strongly recommended that you notify the Land Registry before establishing a family cemetery on your property; you must disclose the cemetery’s existence, if and when the property is sold; and you must follow municipal directives on such issues as burial depth and distance from roads and water sources.
Middle-of-the-road provinces, like Saskatchewan, that allow on farm burials require the applicant’s private cemetery meet certain minimum regulations. Generally, there is a licensing fee plus an annual charge to retain the license. But usually, in the case of on-farm cemeteries with fewer than ten burials a year, the annual charge is waived.
Bringing up the rear at the “might-as-well-be-no” end of the “yes” spectrum, you have Ontario. As you’ll discover, instead of outlawing private cemeteries outright, Ontario has implemented a $100,000 deposit requirement for both commercial cemeteries and miniscule non-profit ones. This effectively silences us pesky rural upstarts, without actually saying “no” to our request. As Mike D’Mello from the Bereavement Authority of Ontario explained the process to me, “The establishment of a cemetery anywhere in Ontario must commence with the landowner obtaining municipal approval followed by submitting an application for consent and licensing to the Bereavement Authority of Ontario. Prior to being licensed the cemetery applicant must deposit $100,000 in a Care and Maintenance Fund that will generate enough interest to cover the cost of maintenance of this cemetery in perpetuity.”
I can appreciate the intent of this law. Who wants our pristine countryside littered with derelict burial plots? But perhaps a sliding scale is in order? If a $100,000 deposit covers the over 168,000 burial plots in Mount Pleasant Cemetery in Toronto, might it not be a wee bit of overkill for a four-body family plot in East Rubberboot, Ontario? Once again, I interpret this as Queen’s Park’s blindness to the rural reality and its utter failure to appreciate a farm family’s attachment to their land.
In closing, former Dunveganite Alistair MacDonald from Munro & Morris Funeral Homes did offer a glimmer of hope when I emailed him about home burials. He inquired whether I was referring to cremated remains or my body for burial. “If it’s cremated remains,” Alistair wrote, “then it’s not a problem at all.” This has to be confirmed, but it would appear if our on-farm family burial plot only accepts ashes, we’re golden. The nanny state won’t be able to touch us, at least yet.
Chip off the old block
I know birds weren’t put on earth solely for my enjoyment, but they sure do brighten up a dreary day like today. I started the morning with a very close-up encounter with a mother (or perhaps a father) pileated woodpecker teaching her or his latest offspring how to hop around the circumference of one of the spruce lining our drive. Then, while fashioning a ham sandwich for lunch on one of Terry’s delicious soft pretzels, I was treated to the orange streak of our resident oriole and then the electric blue of an indigo bunting that’s graced our small-seed feeder for a week or so. Just a few of the reasons we stock our feeding stations all year round.
Season of calico masks and aprons
As you’ve no doubt noticed, the Glengarry Pioneer Museum is off to a very slow start this year. They’re still awaiting word from the Ontario Government and local health authorities as to when they can open their doors to the public. (Regrettably, museums don’t have the same lobbying clout as golf courses and marinas.) In the meantime, they have received approval to bring in a limited number of seasonal staff, assuming the GPM meets proper distancing guidelines.
In her entry for ‘Understatement of the Year’, curator Jennifer Black announced, “the 2020 season may look a bit different, with some events either cancelled or postponed.” In my experience, Jennifer is more often than not a ‘glass half-full’ person. She emailed the museum’s distribution list to say that the “unfortunate changes will give us time to focus on refreshing new initiatives… to get back to basics in the care and maintenance of our collection… and to increase digital content.” I’m hoping that the last point means the museum’s web site will provide virtual access, though a searchable database, to the collection of artifacts that have been digitized to date. This is long overdue.
For the nonce, the Dunvegan museum will remain closed to the public. Regrettably, this also includes its many volunteers. However, Jennifer tells me that, if you’d like to discuss a possible project or tackle something independently, please phone or email her at the museum.
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