Yet historically many people have made this fertile plain their home: first Mohawk natives, then French settlers, Britons loyal to the Empire, and Scots expelled from the Highlands. By the mid-20th century, the population had become largely bicultural, roughly half Scottish and half French Canadian.
''This was 'the Northwest' before they knew about the Northwest," says Michael Baxendale, president of the Maxville & District Chamber of Commerce. ''This place is disproportionately historical for an area this size."
For New Englanders missing open sky, the Glengarry region provides a breath of the Midwest -- just a few hours from Boston and an hour's drive from Montreal and Ottawa. Perhaps this is why my parents chose this place: its farmhouses, silos, and cattle recall their Ohio and West Virginia upbringings.
Homesteading hippies got their feet in Glengarry's barn doors first, encouraging folks like mine, who had uprooted to Montreal back in the '70s, to buy and refurbish log homes. Weekends on their ''farm" morphed into full-time country living. They became part of a white-collar, professional wave of academics and artists that is gradually changing the demographic of the county's 20,000 inhabitants.
''It creates a challenging dynamic sometimes, in that the long-term farm families can feel underappreciated by the city people who have moved in," says Susan Joiner, 58, chairwoman of the Glengarry Pioneer Museum committee, and my stepmom. ''[Meanwhile] the city people don't understand what's involved in an agricultural community."
For 16 years, she and my father, Bill, have let neighboring farmers cultivate the 200-acre parcel surrounding their home. But they were not pleased about a local plan to introduce factory-scale pig farming. A recent quarry project, which they opposed, stirred up considerable dust and debate among old-timers and newcomers.
''But a lot of people work hard to overcome [conflicts] and work on common projects," Joiner says.
