Agatha’s Almanac is an absolutely delightful film, and Agatha Bock, the subject of this documentary film from director Amalie Atkins, is a delight as well.

The film opens with Agatha walking along a road in pink tennis shoes and a bright red jacket. We then cut to a lush, green farmstead, complete with farmhouse and outbuilding clad in weathered grey siding. This is Agatha’s Manitoba farm, which she has worked for we-don’t-yet-know-how-many years. Nor do we know Agatha’s age, but we can tell that she is in her senior years, since, when she walks, her head is bent forward by almost 90 degrees, likely due to the effects of osteoporosis. She speaks briefly to the camera crew and to us: “A few ground rules: (1) please make sure to close both doors when you’re coming in and out; and (2) please don’t stack your plates.” She seems tickled at the attention she’s getting.

As the film proceeds, we learn that Agatha happens to be the director’s aunt, and that Agatha’s Almanac was filmed over a period of about six years, from Agatha at age 86, to Agatha at age 90, and then 91. It is likely that the film began as a Covid-era project, since there are passing references to those years, but what is more likely is that director and niece Atkins had become increasingly aware of the passing of time, and the importance of documenting her Aunt Agatha’s remarkable life, on her 54-acre Manitoba farm.

The camera work is unobtrusive; we watch as Agatha simply goes about her business in a very matter-of-fact way, just doing the things that need to be done. And there is never a shortage of things to be done. Agatha moves from shed to field, pulling her tools — her rake, her hoe – along behind her in a red-painted metal wagon, with its brand, “henry express,” painted on the side. From time to time she talks to us about her farm, and her farm life. She draws us a sketch map of the farm, which she will use to plan and plant her crops. “I live on a boundary, and my land is three miles long.” Think of it: planting and tending crops when you’re in your 80s, on 54 acres of fertile soil, on a farm that runs three miles from river to road.

But Agatha never seems to be daunted by the tasks at hand. “You can have a life with joy and hope, and love. But it’s not always easy.” She pushes her wheelbarrow past the weather-beaten outbuilding, skewed now and leaning at a 30-degree angle from the vertical.

You can tell that Agatha has learned a lot about farming over the years, and is quite happy to share what she’s learned; the film could easily serve as a how-to for the beginning home farmer/gardener. She shows us how to plant a row of beans: dropping the beans one at a time into the bottom of a freshly-dug furrow, her knuckles swollen from arthritis – about which she does not comment of complain. “And then you’re done,” she says. “You wait for Mother Nature.” She offers practical advice, including an effective ways to combat potato bugs, and cutworms: “Pick the three best cucumber plants and place an open tuna can [open as in having both the top and the bottom of the tin removed with a can opener] over them, to prevent any cutworms that might like to have their dinner.”

The camera lingers fondly on Agatha’s many hand-lettered signs and labels, on the boxes and boxes full of miscellaneous things she’s saved — because you never know: those things might be needed again, someday. A box of serviettes, another one of seeds. A handwritten note: “I’m in the garden.” A label on an electric fan: “Very noisy fan.” On an electric heater: “Does not work.” And these, on various boxes: “Small electric kettle whistling”; “Favourite jam jars”; “Smallest jam jars”; “Very small jam jars”; “Wool pieces for quilt”; “Small containers for sewing aids”; “Very large and large shopping bags”; and on a lidded tin: “Crumbs July 2017.” A galvanized metal tub with a hand-lettered piece of masking tape on the side, near the rim: “Good Tub from Anne Leadbetter JUNE 2003”

“I’m known as the duct tape queen in our family. I get teased a lot by my brothers and sisters. They say, if something goes wrong, just ask Agatha; she’ll fix it with duct tape. And I love it, because it really helps me make old stuff waterproof.” As proof she lifts a beaten-up plastic bucket, with black duct tape encircling the bottom. “First masking tape, then duct tape,” she advises, “and it will hold forever.”

Agatha is a pragmatist, both about the running of the farm, and about her future. At around age 86 she says “I’ve sometimes felt that I will be going but that’s OK, because I’m ready, no matter when.” As she approaches her 90th birthday: “There are many things I would do if I could, which I don’t, because I can’t. You just have to accept the fact that it’s part of aging.”

“I should long be gone,” she says. “A lot of my friends have said goodbye forever.”

“It’s a privilege to be alive, every day.”

Both Agatha and Amalie Atkins, the director, were present at the October 3rd screening of the film, and participated in a Q&A with the audience afterwards. It was wonderful to see Agatha in the flesh, so to speak, enjoying her moment in the spotlight at age 91.

You can find more info on the film here, and can watch the trailer here. There’s one more screening of Agatha’s Almanac left during VIFF, on Thursday, October 9 in International Village, at 10:45 am. Do see it if you can.