I normally do a post in honor of my family’s birthdays, and I missed blogging my maternal grandparents’ special days, so I’m going to do a Monday Memory about them, and their farm.
My grandparents live on over a hundred acres of Grandpa’s family’s homestead. Presently they have no animals of their own, but when I was young they had chickens, and they’ve raised cattle until only a year or so ago.
My grandparents are awesome, and the farm nestled under the splendor of the mountain is only the icing on the cake. Along with frequent visits (they live only about 45 min away), every summer my sisters and I would spend some time out at the farm, either all three of us for a week-long stay, or one at a time for two or three days.
The memories of those days are too rich and full to do justice in a mere blog post. On Saturdays we would wake up to the smell of Grandpa’s thick pancakes. I remember wandering through the woods with Grandma, as she pointed out various kinds of trees and plants, and identified some of the bird’s calls. Every once in a while Grandpa would let us hitch a ride on the bucket of his tractor as he headed out to do some work.
The memories continue today, renewing each time I am enveloped in a grandparent hug. I can hear the rich laugh, and picture the mischievous twinkle in Grandpa’s eyes as he teases Grandma, and the spark in her eye as she slaps him on the leg. I can hear Grandma’s “oohh!’ as she holds up a special gift, and feel her patient hands as she helps roll out a pie crust.
One year when the summer visit was a week-long adventure with all three of us, we built a fort. It was a splendid fort, with thick branch-poles tied up to form a firm framework, covered with an abundance of fresh evergreen boughs. It took the better part of the week to finish, complete with an evergreen couch and a backdoor. But the building of it was as much a part of the fun as the wonder of the finished product.
What delight we had in showing it off to Grandma and Grandpa and Mom and Dad. They were duly impressed, and sat on the couch, despite its lowness and the wet clumps of moss hidden in its crevices. Indeed, Grandpa was particularly impressed several months later, when in the throes winter a snow storm felled many a strong tree, and here were the poles of our fort, standing strong and alone, though bereft of their leafy covering.
Yes, many memories echo in that farmland. But even more so, they fill my heart, secure in the knowledge of love. But the best thing of all--there are still many more to come.