Hon. Pamela Wallin: On this topic about drying off-site, I happen to come from a province that has 40% of the country’s farmland, so this is what we do for a living. When you keep wet grain on your farm waiting in the queue to go somewhere else to dry it, you lose quality. That is the first loss of money.

The distances are huge in Saskatchewan to go to drying facilities, or they can be. There are huge transportation costs. The differential there is significant. The difference between old equipment and new equipment in terms of efficiency is also very important. I am looking for your thoughts on this, that we just keep a bunch of old equipment around because it might justify this kind of program is an absurd way to approach dealing with the environment or, for that matter, feeding the world.

Senator Wells: Senator Wallin, thank you for your question.

Sometimes people won’t upgrade their equipment because they can’t afford it. They have to make do with what they have. We see that not just in farm operations; we see that in homes as well.

Depending upon what the grain is, you will have different requirements in drying. Corn, I learned, takes longer because it absorbs more water. It does not dry as quickly. The weather is not always consistent for drying, so that is why they have to use automatic dryers.

I learned it is also true that if a product is not dried in the right amount of time, you will get mould and rot. You mentioned the reduction in quality. That is the elimination of quality and elimination of any revenue from that, despite having the costs to get it that far.

All I can say is, you are absolutely right: Having on-site drying gives not just a financial benefit but an operational benefit.

Hon. Pamela Wallin: When I arrived in New York as consul general in the wake of 9/11, conversation, understanding were sorely needed. We were regularly invited to see our American neighbours, and we invited them back to our official Canadian home to share stories at the dinner table. I looked for a special piece of art to display on the dining-room wall, as art often sparks easy conversation. A stunning landscape by Dorothy Knowles did just that. Road to the West it was called. It turned heads and connected strangers. Her expansive paintings always captured the feel of the place, not just the geography.

Dorothy was born on a farm near Unity in 1927. Growing up in the Dirty Thirties, the brutality and the beauty of the land were imprinted, perhaps seared, on your soul as an artist.

The hardscrabble life shaped the way people looked at life and the land. We call it “next-year country,” a place where hope survives but realism reigns. Life is hard; determination is needed. It inspires art that is rooted in place. It was Dorothy’s signature style. Her paintings always made you feel as if you were looking through an open window. You know the old saying: In Saskatchewan you can watch your dog run away for two days.

Her landscapes were indeed breathtaking, but she produced still life and portraits. She was a relentless gardener on old homesteads that she shared with her artist husband, William Perehudoff, and she sewed for daughters, even for their Barbie dolls.

Dorothy had set out to study biology, but a friend persuaded her to take an art course at the famous Emma Lake. The workshops there were catnip to artists everywhere, the U.S. and Europe. Academics, painters, poets all flocked to Saskatchewan, finding the northern beauty and the intensity of the artists’ community simply irresistible.

Dorothy became a powerful force, an influencer before we used the moniker, giving young artists the courage to paint. For her success, she has Saskatchewan’s Order of Merit and the Order of Canada, and I had the honour of presenting her with the Senate One Hundred and Fiftieth Anniversary Medal. Yet, Dorothy Knowles remained incredibly humble and unpretentious.

Of her prolific career, she confessed:

I just want to pour that out on the canvas: My love for the landscape, my love for the trees and the wonderful radiance of the skies.

When asked for her advice on what to paint, Knowles said:

. . . set up facing the most traditionally picturesque vista you could find, then turn around and paint whatever was behind you.

Dorothy Knowles died peacefully last Tuesday at the age of 96. She was still putting brush to canvas. Her work will always be a touchstone for me and for many more. Thank you.

Hon. Pamela Wallin: Honourable senators, one of Canada’s greatest achievements has been our ability to create a common sense of purpose in a country that is so vast and where the north-south connections are often stronger than the pull east or west. While the phrase “land of the free” is associated with America, we too are the land of the free because of the brave, in world wars, in Korea, in Afghanistan. We mark Remembrance Day to honour those whose sacrifice gave us the freedoms we enjoy and which are envied by millions.

For new Canadians, the public swearing of the oath and citizenship ceremonies themselves are an act of commitment, of signing up to serve their new home. It is a choice often hard come by, but they show a willingness to embrace change and cold winters and new languages and some other strange rituals, many of them on ice. Try explaining curling.

Now, after 76 years, citizenship ceremonies and the public swearing of the oath will be cancelled — ironically, on July 1 — and new Canadians will simply go online and check a box. It’s a travesty. They have waited years and worked hard for the opportunity, and they are being robbed of the opportunity to affirm proudly and publicly their new-found citizenship alongside others who chose the same path. It is perhaps why they are the ones most annoyed with those who illegally jump the queue.

The oath is a meaningful step toward belonging. A meaningless online checkmark diminishes the very concept of citizenship, and it is our obligation as a country to be honest and clear about who we are.

We still think we’re the world’s peacekeepers, but lack the equipment. We’re generous with other people’s money. We don’t pay our bills at NATO. We are rule followers, even standing still at a red light at 2 a.m. on an empty street. We apologize almost as a reflex, but often that is a good thing as we reflect on the past and try hard to change today to make it better tomorrow. But tearing down statues or cancelling history or cancelling ceremonies of citizenship does a disservice to us all, including new Canadians. We owe them our truth. We are all a product of our past, for better or worse: the constant denigration of the hard work of thousands who carved out sod huts and livelihoods and survived the cruelty of winter and gave birth and raised families and grew food — people of all colours and creeds that built lives and communities and shaped this place.

Do we learn from our past? Of course, and so do newcomers. That is often why they are here: to escape tyranny, to be granted freedom of speech and thought and to embrace the comfort of safety and plenty. In the end it is about our commitment to each other as people who share common space, whether we are of a farm or of a fishing village or of a city apartment or of a First Nation.

So keep the oath and the ceremony, and perhaps we should all think about renewing our commitment to citizenship. Let’s commit to this country because Canada is a testament that change is possible.