Thankful for Being a Farm Kid

To City,

After suffering from writer’s block this week, I was finally brimming with ideas this morning at around 4 am when I was trying to sleep. Of course!

I have finally realized, a week after Thanksgiving, that I never wrote a post on what I am thankful for. During our dinner, I spouted off the typical generic “I am thankful for my family and friends, and that we could all get together for this amazing meal”. While I am thankful for these things, I did not put very much effort into it.

Then last night I had an epiphany! I am thankful for growing up on a farm. It was awesome! It was fun!

Jonathan Stonehouse
Photo courtesy of Jonathan Stonehouse.

On the farm, we had space. Space to ride our bikes for who knows how many miles. And the space to run around with intense games of kick the can, tag, or hide and go seek. My parents used to tell us to go outside, and we wouldn’t come back in for hours. Why would we? Everything fun to do was outside.

We would spend that time building forts or digging a maze of tunnels in the garden. My dad would use his tractor to make us a snow pile which was another opportunity to create more tunnels in and around it. If a tunnel collapsed or the fort fell down, we would just start again. Sometimes it was a lot of work, but it was all part of the fun.

Don’t tell my dad this, but we used to jump on hay bales. It was a game, trying to jump on the ones that were far apart, sometimes not quite making it across. He probably knew we were doing this the whole time, since sometimes our frantic scrambles to stay on or get back up on the bales would leave the evidence behind.

Mike Fernwood
Photo courtesy of Mike Fernwood.

We would have bonfires, and not the little, controlled fires that are allowed in the city, but raging infernos. If we were lucky someone would hide in the trees, making strange noises trying to scare us kids. Bonfires also meant getting to use homemade sticks to roast marshmallows, letting them catch on fire and blowing out the flame just in time to have a perfect golden treat. It was an art, which required much practice.

Exciting things would happen like the cows getting out. We would all jump in the truck and chase them into the rightful place again. Sometimes the excitement would be something as simple as going to the city to see a movie. This was a big deal for us, since the city was 45 minutes away, and going there was very rare.

Photo courtesy of She’.

Maybe I see my past with a child’s excitement, but everything felt like an adventure and I am very thankful for these memories. That is probably what I should have said at our turkey dinner, but I’m assuming everyone would have told me to shut up because the food is getting cold. Oh well…

Love, Country

P.S. What are you thankful for?


3 thoughts on “Thankful for Being a Farm Kid

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