The Farm
On a little piece of land in
When I was a child, the little gray
farmhouse stood tall with a huge front porch and a large yard full of trees.
The house, facing to the north, was situated in the middle of the farm. A fence
surrounded the yard with an entrance gate on the dirt road from the north. On
the right side of the house there stood a huge pecan tree. On the left side a
hundred year old oak tree stood shading the ground with its enormous branches.
I always thought the tree looked like a giant with millions of spooky arms
reaching out to grab me. Grandma had her clothesline in the backyard, and there
was a large pecan tree that almost filled up the backyard with its enormous
branches.
There was a smelly pigpen connected to
the fence on the right side of the yard that stretched around the backyard.
Being a mischievous little girl, I used to stand and watch the piglets splash
around in the mud hole next to the fence, hoping to get a little mud on me.
During spring the smell of freshly cut hay drifted from the field on the left
side of the yard. As a child I always enjoyed playing hide-and-seek in the tall
grass before it was cut to make bails of hay for the cows. Sundays were
wonderful days to run and play in the hay fields because most of the time Granddaddy
was taking an afternoon nap. Beyond the house a large cow pasture stretched
like a half-moon around the farm. Though the farm may have appeared small to
some, Grandma and Granddaddy always had bountiful harvests and plenty of room
to live.
I would jump out of bed on Sunday
mornings to the smell of frying sausages, rising buttermilk biscuits, and
perking coffee. My granddaddy had usually already eaten and was out checking on
the cows before church. I can remember going with him early one Sunday morning.
A cow was due to deliver a calf overnight, and Granddaddy needed to check on
her. As I traipsed along behind him, I could smell the early morning sweetness
of grass wet with dew. I felt very excited as I watched Granddaddy check the
newly born calf to see if she was healthy. Finally, after making sure
everything was all right, Granddaddy and I returned to the house to get ready
for church. When church was over my parents would follow my grandparents and me
back to the farm. Grandma always had the long oak table filled with
honey-glazed ham, fresh green vegetables, and sweet cherry pies covered with
whipped cream. Everyone settled down after Sunday lunch except me. I was always
out getting into something. One Sunday afternoon I got a big surprise. My granddaddy
told me to go down to the corral where the cows were usually fed. When I got to
the fence, I could not believe my eyes. There stood a cream and tan pony named
Misty. She was a palomino Shetland pony, and I spent the rest of the afternoon
learning how to ride her. This was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
My granddaddy knew my favorite animals were horses. He had made my dream of
owning one come true.
He spent a lot of time teaching me how
to ride Misty and how to put the saddle and bridle on her. He gave me the big
responsibility of taking care of her. At first, I did not like the idea of
having to feed, water, and bath her, but I’m glad that my granddaddy taught me
how to be responsible for something other than myself. I did not ever want to
give my pony away.
I can remember one weekend my
grandparents and parents sat me down to have a little talk. I really did not
know what to expect. My parents explained to me that my granddaddy was sick and
that he was going to have to start visiting the hospital very often. My parents
told me that since my granddaddy was not going to be at home very much, they
were going to have to sell my pony. They did not have anyone to take care of
her while they were away. At first, I wanted to cry, but I realized that my
granddaddy was more important to me than my pony. I told them that I understood
and waited till later to cry. I did not want anyone to know how much I was
hurting inside. I was upset about losing my pony, but I was more worried about
losing my granddaddy.
After that weekend, my granddaddy
started a series of tests and treatments for lung cancer. He spent many days in
the hospital, and when he was at home, he did not get out very much. I missed
my pony, but I was very worried about my granddaddy. I became very afraid of
what this disease was doing to my granddaddy. I really could not understand
what was happening to him. My parents and grandma tried to help me understand,
but all I wanted was for him to be well.
The time finally came when I would
have to give my granddaddy up. It was a Sunday in October of 1980. My
granddaddy had been sick for months with lung cancer. Everyone had finished
Sunday dinner, and I was outside riding my bike. I can remember my daddy
sitting me down on the steps and telling me my granddaddy had passed away. From that moment on, the farm had no life and
adventure for me. My granddaddy had spent many hours with me on the farm. He
had taught me about farm animals, farming the land, and how to respect all
living things. He had been like a second father to me. I realized he was no
longer going to be with me.
Now, as an adult, visiting the farm on Sundays brings back
many happy memories. Standing in the yard of the little gray farmhouse, my
memory calls back echoes of red farm tractors cutting hay, pigs squealing for
their mothers, kids’ laughter ringing from the giant oak tree limbs, and
Granddaddy calling for his cows. The smells of spring on the farm have faded
with the past since the cows and pigs have been sold and fertile fields lie
waiting for a golden harvest.
I will always remember one Sunday when
my granddaddy said, “Always thank the Lord for His blessings and rest on
Sundays, and the rest of the week will be bountiful with his blessings.” I
feel, even now, the farm has an aura of love and thankfulness for all the long,
hard, and happy years given to it by my granddaddy.
Note:
Eighteen years after my granddaddy’s death, my husband and I have
remodeled the old farmhouse and are living a wonderful life on the farm. My
granddaddy’s brothers and their kids have started farming the land again, and
two of the kids have built homes on the farm. I know my granddaddy is looking
down from heaven and is very pleased with the legacy he has left his children
and grandchildren.