The morning ripened slowly. Ten o'clock felt like noon. July Montgomery cut open a sack of ground feed and poured it into the cement trough. He looked out of the barn window into his hay field, where low-lying fog stole silently out of the ground, filling space with milky distance. Beyond the fence, the tops of maple, oak, and hickory formed a lumpy, embroidered edge against infinity.
I will read this book. This paragraph brought me right back to my life on the farm...
Funny, I have been thinking a lot about our lives on the farm lately. I have become online friends with a woman who moved to her grandparents farm and she share the most beautiful photos of their life on the farm. It brings back so many memories! She has 2 small girls and they remind me a lot of us. Looking back, I love how our imaginations and being able to roam around outside, in the barn or in the fields gave us endless hours of fun. We worked hard, but we played hard. Those years on the farm are my best childhood memories.
ReplyDeleteThose early years made such an impression on us. Remember our nylon pony tails? Prancing around all day pretending we were horses? And playing school on the porch? Cutting out catalog dolls and furniture?
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