Excerpts fron new book “How a City Boy Became a Farmer”

Most of my close relatives were city folks who would have been out of place in a rural setting. However, my maternal grandmother, Grandma Jonas, grew up on a farm and always cherished her life as a young girl. She told me many stories about her childhood and her youth as a farm girl. She loved the animals, the land, and the walks on the gravel road to school and to pasture with the cows and horses. She walked among the trees and grassy areas near the stream and sometimes just looked at the sky, watching the clouds, some of them friendly puffy or wispy, and some of them dark and foreboding warning to seek shelter. She thoroughly enjoyed the fresh country air and exploring its solitude and vastness. I could easily dream of myself in her place as she re-lived her life on the farm, in her one room school 1/4 mile down the gravel road, and in Salem Church and Bible School in the tiny village of Wayne, just two miles from her home.

Grandma told me about the times her dad and brothers hitched the horses to the buggy or to the sleigh when roads were snow covered. She recounted the wonderful rides on balmy days and the discomfort on inclement days, the heavy blankets needed for the trips on cold and snowy days. I think Grandma shared my love for horses. Hers was a life made for daydreamers, and daydreaming was one of my greatest talents.

When grandma told stories of days long ago

I wished I had been there to watch her grow

To walk with her in those days long past

Sitting in a meadow would be a blast


Watching the clouds so high in the sky

Just loosing track as the hours whisk by

To see the flowing rippling stream

Living out home is my fondest dream.


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