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Lloyd Hiebert Obituary
HIEBERT, Lloyd Wayne
Lloyd Wayne Hiebert was born on May 23, 1941, in Worsley, Alberta. His parents, Ike and Hilda Hiebert, had homesteaded there and begun to raise their family of four children. In 1955, Ike, Hilda, Lloyd, Glen, Elaine, and Ellen left the Peace River area and moved to a farm in Cedar, just south of Nanaimo, where Ike had seen potential in some swampy bottomland that had intimidated so many others before him. Ike farmed the land there for a number of years before turning it over to Lloyd in 1963. That farm and its legendary dirt would become Lloyd's legacy.
His bond with the farm became a relationship that would last almost 60 years. When the dirt was too wet, it needed to be drier. When it was too dry, it needed to be wetter. Once it was made black and rich each spring, it was seeded so it would become green with life again by summer. He knew the needs of his dirt, and it became his lifelong passion to learn what it required of him in order to provide the bounty it so often produced. This was not easy work. He was up before dawn and usually working long after the sun had set. The physical requirements of being a dirt farmer aren't for the weak of mind or body. The dust, the rain, and the worry all took their toll over time. It was hard work, but he thrived on it.
To say that Dad wrote things down is an understatement. His little black book was always tucked securely into his shirt pocket alongside a pen and, in later years, his glasses. He could look through his notes from over the decades and tell you the height of the water in a ditch on any given date, the day he planted or harvested a field, or what the production for a field was in any specific year. He valued the knowledge of past years and always used it to better prepare for the coming ones.
The people of Cedar became just as much his family as those of us who share his blood. The coffee pot was always at hand, and there was never so much going on that he couldn't take time to talk with someone or help them through whatever problem they might have encountered. I took a look through his old mechanical phone index the other day; reading the names in there is like looking back over an entire lifetime. There are names of people who he still talked to and visited with regularly, along with the names of folks who have passed on or moved away. Most were names of people who meant a lot to him and had helped him in his quest to be a better farmer. Lloyd never stopped trying to find people he could either learn from or pass on bits of knowledge to. Often, those two things happened simultaneously, and he was the first to admit that.
Lloyd's time away from the farm was infrequent, but when the chance came for a quick camping, fishing, or hunting trip, he made the best of it. Although he tried to relax on these outings, he wasn't truly comfortable until he was home again and able to get his finger back on the pulse of his land. He never stayed separated from it for very long; I don't think either of them did well when they were apart.
My own appreciation of machines, and what made them work, began on that farm. Seeing a mechanism designed for a specific and unique purpose has always fascinated me. Dad knew how to fix things right, but when needed, he also knew how to fix them "for now." He became a master at balancing those two repair methods, and his guidance was often sought out by others when it came time to mend or replace a tired part. Schooling taught me the math behind machines, but it was Dad who taught me why we needed them and how to treat them. There was no better mentor.
Lloyd tried for a number of years to separate himself from his dirt and passion, but it just wasn't meant to be. There was always a reason to plant one more crop or try one more variety of potato to see how it would perform. They were bonded-he and that dirt-and it's not surprising, I guess, that once they were finally separated, they both began to lose their strength and vitality.
We had hoped to have a few more great adventures with him, but his body was tired from years and years of doing the hardest kinds of work.
He was truly the biggest man I've ever known.
To leave an online message of condolence, please visit www.bowersfuneralservice.com.
Lloyd Wayne Hiebert was born on May 23, 1941, in Worsley, Alberta. His parents, Ike and Hilda Hiebert, had homesteaded there and begun to raise their family of four children. In 1955, Ike, Hilda, Lloyd, Glen, Elaine, and Ellen left the Peace River area and moved to a farm in Cedar, just south of Nanaimo, where Ike had seen potential in some swampy bottomland that had intimidated so many others before him. Ike farmed the land there for a number of years before turning it over to Lloyd in 1963. That farm and its legendary dirt would become Lloyd's legacy.
His bond with the farm became a relationship that would last almost 60 years. When the dirt was too wet, it needed to be drier. When it was too dry, it needed to be wetter. Once it was made black and rich each spring, it was seeded so it would become green with life again by summer. He knew the needs of his dirt, and it became his lifelong passion to learn what it required of him in order to provide the bounty it so often produced. This was not easy work. He was up before dawn and usually working long after the sun had set. The physical requirements of being a dirt farmer aren't for the weak of mind or body. The dust, the rain, and the worry all took their toll over time. It was hard work, but he thrived on it.
To say that Dad wrote things down is an understatement. His little black book was always tucked securely into his shirt pocket alongside a pen and, in later years, his glasses. He could look through his notes from over the decades and tell you the height of the water in a ditch on any given date, the day he planted or harvested a field, or what the production for a field was in any specific year. He valued the knowledge of past years and always used it to better prepare for the coming ones.
The people of Cedar became just as much his family as those of us who share his blood. The coffee pot was always at hand, and there was never so much going on that he couldn't take time to talk with someone or help them through whatever problem they might have encountered. I took a look through his old mechanical phone index the other day; reading the names in there is like looking back over an entire lifetime. There are names of people who he still talked to and visited with regularly, along with the names of folks who have passed on or moved away. Most were names of people who meant a lot to him and had helped him in his quest to be a better farmer. Lloyd never stopped trying to find people he could either learn from or pass on bits of knowledge to. Often, those two things happened simultaneously, and he was the first to admit that.
Lloyd's time away from the farm was infrequent, but when the chance came for a quick camping, fishing, or hunting trip, he made the best of it. Although he tried to relax on these outings, he wasn't truly comfortable until he was home again and able to get his finger back on the pulse of his land. He never stayed separated from it for very long; I don't think either of them did well when they were apart.
My own appreciation of machines, and what made them work, began on that farm. Seeing a mechanism designed for a specific and unique purpose has always fascinated me. Dad knew how to fix things right, but when needed, he also knew how to fix them "for now." He became a master at balancing those two repair methods, and his guidance was often sought out by others when it came time to mend or replace a tired part. Schooling taught me the math behind machines, but it was Dad who taught me why we needed them and how to treat them. There was no better mentor.
Lloyd tried for a number of years to separate himself from his dirt and passion, but it just wasn't meant to be. There was always a reason to plant one more crop or try one more variety of potato to see how it would perform. They were bonded-he and that dirt-and it's not surprising, I guess, that once they were finally separated, they both began to lose their strength and vitality.
We had hoped to have a few more great adventures with him, but his body was tired from years and years of doing the hardest kinds of work.
He was truly the biggest man I've ever known.
To leave an online message of condolence, please visit www.bowersfuneralservice.com.
Published by Victoria Times Colonist from Feb. 28 to Mar. 2, 2026.
Memories and Condolences
for Lloyd Hiebert
Sponsored by the Victoria Times Colonist.
1 Entry
Ian Vantreight
March 5, 2026
My condolences go out to Lloyd's family, for their huge loss. I viewed Lloyd was a Mentor of mine starting while being on the Board at the Island Vegetable Co-op as Directors. Lloyd was always that voice of calm and rational reasoning. He was a Good Man, with a huge heart!
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