I plan to use this blog to relive some of my childhood memories. I am afraid of forgetting them, and with no brother to reminisce with, I will be doing that here. :-)
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There isn't any one specific memory that sticks out the most about my Grandparents, but rather many different memories, smells, sounds and feelings about the farm. I have always loved the outdoors and to be able to wander freely and listen to the birds and hear the sound of the wind as it ripples through the pines. The wide open space so vast that you can look for miles and miles with obstacles or hi-rises, just the occasional farm houses, barns and silos dotted across the rolling fields of green, tan and browns.I remember one particular tree that stood like a lone sentry in the middle of one of the fields next to the farm. I don’t know why it had never been cut down, but it sat majestically upon a rocky cairn. It was the ideal climbing tree, as it had branches set at exactly the right height for clambering to unimaginable heights. From here you could even see further, and felt a sense of complete freedom and wild abandon. I would sit in that tree for hours on end leaning back against the barky trunk and listen to the wind whispering through those needles. If you listened closely enough, you could hear the tree speaking gently to you with stories of the past. The tree's love and protection surrounded you like a giant cocoon.
Another memory stands out strongly about the farm. I had to verify this with my Dad, because it seemed so vivid that I thought maybe I was mistaken. I must have been about 4 or 5 and my grandparents still had some milking cows and I distinctly remember walking down to the “crick” with my Dad to bring the cows back up. Not sure how my Mom allowed it or felt comfortable with it. It's more likely that my Dad didn't ask just took me with him and figured he would deal with the consequences after the fact. All I know is that I remember not having any fear of these big beasts that were four times my size. All I saw were gentle giants with long purplish tongues. Maybe I had no fear, because I was with my Dad and he wasn't afraid. Who knows.Once down by the crick, one had to watch your step, because the cows turned this softer earth into a landmine of little tufts of grassy islands with water swirling underneath. I can't count the number of times I misjudged and landed my foot into the cold icy water. I would squeal and continue squishing along, being more careful on the next landing. A lot of time was spent hopping from one grassy island to the next. It was a fantastic adventure for a small child.
~~~ Lizzy ~~~
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