16:44 Mar 19 2012
Times Read: 1,631
Saturday was beautiful so I went out and took some photos, as most know. I also went by the family farm that my cousin bought on the court house steps about a year ago. Man has he changed some things. Cleared off all the land, put in some ditches to handle the swampy problems. I said it then and will say it now- I am glad he got the farm. While my own father was raised by his Aunt, who did not have any children or husband, my cousin’s father stayed on the farm and built his own home there. Of all the brothers he was the only one who took any part in trying to keep his father’s farm running. And now his son has it, lock stock and barrel.
While driving back I stopped at the place my own father would say he was raised at. He hated farming, never ever wanted to go back to it. I stood beside my car, watching the sun set, and remember suck good times on this farm. See- there had been a house here, way way way before I was even a glint in my daddy’s eye. The home he knew, no water, no electric. He rarely talked about getting up before dawn and feeding the farm animals, putting in a few hours work before school. Then walking to school that took a hour. Back home to work a few more hours before darkness came.
Strange- but I don’t know if my Dad knew love as a child. Later in life, that I can recall, he had moved my Aunt to a rental home we had that was only a few houses away. And she was never really a nice person, and the last few years of her life she went crazy. About the time she moved in with us, as her health was going fast. I remember she had gotten upset about something my mother said and she got a gun out of her dresser. And the fight it took to get it from her, my father having to shove and push her to do so. I remember watching from the doorway, and how my mother and father that night talked about what to do with her.
She stayed, died a few months later. My mother would only say she was ill, and never meant to hurt us. But I wonder now if that was true. I do remember it kind of broke my Dad’s heart a little, losing her those years before her body gave out. Say what you will- she did raise him, cared for him. And when my parents got married open her door to my mother. Her brother, one of Dad’s uncles, gave him a loan to buy a small piece of land that we still live on today. Why didn’t his father? I don’t really know. Or care. Dad made his life, he cared for his children, and he loved and treasured his wife that he married when he was 18 years old. That is what I know about my dad, and I know it hurt him that he was 'given' away as a child. Reason he and we was never close to his family.
Anyway- back to the farm. As a child we would spend as many weekends away at our ‘weekend home’ as we could. Now- I know that brings up images of a retreat but really…well it was really. Just not what most would think. The home that Dad was raised in is gone, I have never seen a photo of it even. But in its place Mom and Dad put a 1970 tacky gold house trailer. It was three super small bedrooms, one bath, living room and kitchen. No water, no electric. It was our way of camping as my mother would not let us sleep on the ground outside. The farm was covered in woods, grown up after the many years of Dad moving on to his own life. But it was so beautiful as a child.
There was a cabin, a small two room deal that a man name Boone lived in. He stayed on the farm, rent free, so someone was there. When you drove in on the dirt road you would stop at his shed, and as kids we would jump out of the 1960’s van, *I will post a photo of the kind, but this was not the one we had* that we rode in the back where there was no seats. We would run to him as he always had moonpies and those small bottles of coke that he cooled in the creek. He was a kind, wonderful man who lived so simple, the only appliance I remember was a old style refrigerator he had. We would eat our treats as the grown ups talked, glad to be ’out of town’ tho we was only about 4 miles out.
Then we would pile back into the van, and if Mom was driving as Dad was coming out later, or already there, she would cuss the van as it only had stick shifter on the sterling wheel, and it always stuck on her. “If you damn Father don’t fix this piece of shit…” LOL I can still hear her saying it, so many times it stuck in my head. She hated that van, but going to the farm it was a must. See- you had to follow the creek, and at one point it would lean really badly to one side as she drove along side a hill. The game was we had to go to the other side, to keep the van from tilting over. I am sure it was not that bad, my mother never would put her kids at risk, but as kids you play that game. We all ran to the one side, screaming as the van tilted, as my mother cussed the stick. It was always the start of our time away from the business.
And we are talking late Saturday evenings to Sunday. My parents worked Saturdays till noon, and by the time she got us bathed, packed up the food for the weekend, water, it was in the evening before we got out to the farm. Dad would sometimes go earlier, and spend a few hours mowing with the farm tractor, his only throw back to his farming days. But then we are talking summer, fall so it did not get dark till later in the day.
Tire swing out of an old truck tire, hanging in a tree. Dad running around on the tractor as our German Sheppard Boggie chased him, barking. The walks and playing out fantasy down by the creek bed. Wooden sticks swords, fairy land head dress made out of clover. My brother always having to watch over us, making sure we did not ‘drown’ in the two foot of water. As my mom would cook on the fire, and sit in her chair, a smile on her face at getting away form all of it. There was no bedtime, no wake up time. We slept in the bunk beds in each room, my brother on the couch in the living room as the master bedroom was my parents.
It was flat out heaven to me.
I remember the hay rides on a old trailer dad pulled with the tractor, I remember the tooth that was pulled out at a odd angle that Boggie got from biting on to the farm tractor tire, making him a snaggled tooth dog till he died. And dad saying how he was moving and hearing a thump thump thump and looking over his shoulder to see the dog going around with the tire. LOL I know that sounds mean, but you had to know that dog. He was not the smartest, but was the most loving dog. And he lived, dad pampering him for years after that, till he died of old age. He was my first dog, photos of me in diapers riding him like a horse is proof of that.
I stood there this weekend and look at the land, seeing how life had changed. If I had to name a happy time in my life- this farm would of held it. But life moves on.
Boone died, and the trailer kept getting broken into, so we moved it into town and redid it for a rental property. Later my oldest sister called it home for many years. If you read my journal you have seen this trailer photos- it has been remodeled several times.
The farm was split- a unknown cousin of Dad’s tricked my Aunt in doing that in the last years of her life before she moved in with us. Dad could of fought the dead she has signed as she was not of right mind, but he always said it was not worth it. If he wanted it that bad, let him have it. He could sleep when he put his head down, that is all that mattered in life.
At 16 my parents started to will over land, property to me and my sisters. Dad sold the wood off the farm and gave the money to us kids in Cd‘s, and paid for his own clean up that changed the layout, the creek moved back to the property line. Dad also ran water and eclectic to the farm, renting one spot out for a trailer spot. After a few calls from the sheriff, and my own sister being stopped one day as she came out of the farm from collecting rent, being told she had left a known bootlegger. Safe to say no one has lived on the farm since. Now it is taken care of, the hay mowed by my cousin, the same one who owns the farm that I talked about at the start. ½ mile is about all the distance between that farm, and our own.
One night, early morning really, as a family we went back out to the farm. Mentor shower was going on, so we all went out.. Last time on the farm as a family… and spent hours, looking up at the sky. We also found hunters using spot lights to kill the deer- thus the gates and fence going up.
At one area of the farm is a swamp, always wet. That is the area my parents signed over to the government to do a bird sanitary program. Even after the contract was over, we have left those few acres for the animals.
In the back corner lot Mom and Dad kept 3 acres of land when they deeded the rest over. I think Dad wanted to keep a piece of his childhood, and Mom always said she would of loved to build a cabin, a get away for us on that piece. Of course it never happened. It is coved in pine trees, left from the clearing per my Mother’s request.
So what is the furture of the farm? I always joked if we won the lottery we would build a compound there. Each of us have a wing off the main building. The older I get the more I lean toward it. Today the farm is even closer to town, in 8 minutes you drive to main street. And some big nice new homes are going up all in the area. Have had offers to buy, but I know Dad would want it kept in the family as long as we can. And as the only bills it has it property taxes, I really don’t see that changing any time soon. Sure- if one of us got sick we would have to sell, and the reason my parents never got rid of any land. “It’s the only thing you can’t make.” Dad would say.
So let me show you the farm, or at least parts of it that you can see from the road. My car is not a pickup, dang it.
First the van- our was white and had the company name on it as it was used as a packing van, thus no seats in the back.
The creek, and tree grove we use to play at.
The trailer use to sit where the electric pole is here. A extra road was built in, but we use to come from the other side. And the place was covered in trees.
The cabin/shed Boone use to live in, and the only way into the farm per dirty road- right at the electric pole.
Some of the bird sanitary can be seen in this photo, up close to the hills of the farm.
And the other side of the farm, the view you would wake up to, sit at the campfire and see.
Yes- some of the most happiest times in my life was on this farm. And I have no clue why I shared all this with you. lol If you read it, thanks for doing so.
COMMENTS
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Bones
17:37 Mar 31 2012
And you live nearby. That's tempting! ;)
Morrigon
17:53 Mar 31 2012
I have no idea how idiots like this make it through life... Don't like the carpet color? Buy a big fucking rug...
nips
18:13 Mar 31 2012
I wish I lived closer. That would be a dream. You really should write a book about your stories. We love them.
Vampirewitch39
18:29 Mar 31 2012
For you bones- I would go down to 300.00 ;)
Abstract
19:15 Mar 31 2012
I'd kill for something like that o.o
We pay 364 for a tiny little apartment and we can only fit a chair in the living room.
The only question I would ask is if the heat and AC work. Or do I need to get a window AC. XD
Vampirewitch39
19:33 Mar 31 2012
Central air and heat, with a heat pump Abby. :)
CarnelianMyst
00:24 Apr 01 2012
Any dry cleaning jobs close by? I'd be the best damn tenant you ever had. :D
Nightgame
00:37 Apr 01 2012
driving a hummer with 2 other vehicles and needing to move from an apt... guess how he supplements his income? lol Can we say meth... cause I sure can't spell it.