I loved picking fresh raspberries, juicy blackberries and
eating as many tart orchard apples as my belly could withstand. Watching the
flower gardens transform from seeds and bulbs to the most colorful patch of
land you ever saw. God blessed my grandfather with a green thumb and he had the
prettiest and most well maintained yard in the neighborhood - the endless
compliments from friends and neighbors proved it! He meticulously kept track of
temperatures, weather conditions, and the roles they played in that years' growing season, the progress of his plantings, how many
tomatoes he ended up reaping and what color tulips he had carefully selected-
all this invaluable information was carefully noted in a small, brown pocket-
sized book, that grew more tattered as the season progressed.
When I think of the potato farm, I can hear the sounds of
machinery, feel the texture of the soil and the scents of the air. We loved playing around the farm with our dogs
Jasper, a big, black Newfoundland and Rex, a small, older mix breed. We absolutely loved helping my dad and grampy
(we called him "Bunky") turn the soil, , pick rocks and plant the
seed, watching them work on the equipment, ready the potato house and,
sometimes, we'd get to ride along in the
old farm trucks. My favorite was an old, rusty mint green colored International. She sure didn't speed along very fast but the
steering wheel was big and there was LOTS of room in the cab! My favorite
tractor was “Big ‘Ol Betsy – a.k.a “Betsy”
My grampy Wendell passed away when I was 12 and my father
passed away 10 years ago. My "Bunky" is still alive and well but the
farming days are long gone and he is just enjoying retirement.
I adored these activities as a child - didn't appreciate
them as a teenager - now as an adult, I would give my heart and soul to be able
to tromp through the garden and dig in the dirt with all of them one more time.
This hung on the wall at my grampy Wendell's house and it's always been one of my favorites.
