Over a hundred acres surround the old farm house that my father and mother built about fifteen years after their purchase of the acreage at the time of what was termed the great depression. As a small child I roamed the fields, hills, and forest with bare feet and shorts, with no fear of predators. I remember my mother instructing me to stay in site of the house, but I interpreted to my own satisfaction any of the structures that may be occupied by tenants or sharecroppers to be “the house” to which the motherly instruction would apply. We had one milk cow, one horse, two mules, a hefty flock of chickens, one hog (most of the time) and lots of plows, wagons, and in later years a hefty tractor to harvest hay and give the mules a run for their money. All of those are long gone except for their memory in this aging possessor of PD. Returning to the farm after years away has been a blessing that has filled this heart with gratitude. Memories have been flowing back recently as we entertain and begin an action plan to revitalize the old farm as a host to a unique breed of beef cattle. The old pastureland has long ago decayed and slipped away to rust and rot, but new fences will soon go up as the new plan and lively stock begin to occupy the space of open fields and grasses. Children and grandchildren will have the opportunity to “tend” to the farm in ways never imagined by my parents and ancestors. The wisdom of choices will be afforded those of emerging generations and the heart and mind of this grandpa, once the child in awe of the farm, will continue to be filled with the peace of gratitude, the thanks for which may endure far beyond this memory!

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