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View from the Cab: Memories of the home farm

As I gazed at the farm I grew up on through the tractor window the other day, the memories came flooding back.

It is always special to plant the field of the “home farm” each year. I look at that row of old cottonwood trees and think about the time Dad built me a treehouse out of old wood pallets or when I’d spend a good chunk of summer vacation from school mowing. Those trees served as the perfect play area for my brother and me. I think we even enjoyed a few picnics on that grass.

That big old bush on the west end of the property served as the perfect fort, complete with different rooms and doors. We even had old pans Mom no longer used in the kitchen to play with out there. This was also a great hiding spot in a game of hide and seek.

The big grassy area behind the swing set was great for a makeshift football field or baseball diamond and was also fun to mow. The small playhouse in the middle of the yard served as the first radio station I worked at. This pretend station could broadcast to various buildings on the farm as my imagination ran wild.

I don’t know where to start when glancing at the old crib. I recall climbing up that tall ladder to the top several times. The view was amazing up there but getting down was a bit tricky as you had to climb through darkness. My brother got the lucky chore of scooping beans which is something I never had to do, although I think I helped him one time.

Dad’s workshop in the shed was always interesting to me. I spent quite a bit of time there making wood creations and simply crushing rocks to see if I could discover any diamonds or gold and suddenly become rich. The small 1986 handprints from my brother and me are still in the corner of the concrete. It was always fun to compare how our hands have grown over the years.

That shed had plenty of character as we painted “Hawks are #1” on the windows back in the late 80’s and early 90’s for the Prairie Central state tournament run. The letters were on the windows for years after that, so we could always remember those magical basketball years even though I was just a young pup at the time.

The farmhouse is what brings back those special memories of family time, dinners, video game playing, holidays and special gatherings. Not to mention when we got our first computer and connected the world wide web or when we got that new console TV for the living room.

I wouldn’t trade any of the memories of growing up on this farm for anything. I can’t help but smile when thinking of all the fun times we had. We were truly blessed.


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