ONE OF MY FAVOURITE activities is going for a walk through the trees surrounding our property. Our house, on a 10-acre parcel of land, is largely hidden by tall spruces, Siberian elms and willows. I enjoy getting up at sunrise and walking slowly, pausing here and there to look for fresh animal tracks or to caress sleeping willow buds as they hide under a blanket of new-fallen snow. Like a connoisseur of fine wine, I reach for soft pine boughs, gently rub a few needles between fingertips, then raise them to my nose to indulge in the pungent bouquet. And for one brief, glorious moment, all is right with the world. "Mark, the dishwasher's stopped working!" Snapped from my reverie as if I were a gigantic rubber band, I see my wife, Jackie, hanging out the kitchen door, hands cupped to her mouth. "And the toilet's plugged, too!" Ahhh. Life on an acreage; the never-ending routine of repair and maintenance. When it takes an hour to get to and from town, you have to get used to doing it yourself. I've tackled plumbing, wiring, carpentry, painting, fence building, you name it. There's not much you don't learn by trial and error, a little of the former and a lot of the latter. But I've also found it a good idea to make friends with as many neighbours as possible. They all have skills I don't have. More often than not, when I'm in a tight squeeze, they're happy to help me out. This was the case on the Christmas Day when our sewer backed up. You'd figure folks would be too busy with their own family celebrations to break away and lend someone a hand. Not our neighbours. They were right there with pumps, hoses, and good advice. Whether it's fencing, auto repair, finding parts, or lending me tools of every description, I've really come to rely on our excellent neighbours. Something else I have found indispensable is a good supply of Band-Aids and disinfectant. With all the repair work I do, the skin on my knuckles often takes a beating. During winter, the workload tapers off. My main concerns are plowing out the driveway, hauling trash, and ensuring the plumbing in the house doesn't freeze. When spring returns, the chore list is much longer. I have to keep up with grass that grows like crazy, and yellowjackets and hornets choose convenient places to build their nests, like under our deck or by the front door. Gophers make Swiss cheese patterns in the lawn. \ Did I mention the skunks? They prefer that nice, cosy space under the garden shed, where I have trouble getting at them. I'll probably have to suit up and smoke them out again, because dollars to doughnuts the dogs will get sprayed and come running in the house, and won't that be fun? (See Acreage Life, volume 1, issue 1 for details.) I'll try not to burn down the shed, as almost happened last year. Jackie's still leaning out the door. "Are you going to fix the dishwasher, or do I have to call in a real repair man?" That hurts. "Relax, my dear, Mr. Fix-it's here," I reply in cavalier fashion, striding into the house, forgetting I'd parked my tool box where it would be nice and handy, on the doorstep. Tripping, I sail in slow motion like a great, awkward bird, bounce twice, then crash land in a ball of skinned hands and knees right at Jackie's feet. "Glad you could drop by, Mr. Fix-it!" she says brightly. "I'll get you a Band-Aid and a cup of coffee." She kisses me on the forehead. I guess I'm just a wee bit accident prone. But that's another story. - MARK BEHREND